"Say that you'll hold me forever
Say that the wind won't change on us
Say that we'll stay with each other
And it will always be like this."
Marquis Kennedy, 18, District One Male
Being backstage is familiar and unfamiliar all at once for Marquis. The thick, chalky stage makeup, the lights, the buzzy feeling of anticipation as he waits in the wings for his interview; all of these things feel like second nature. The thing that is unfamiliar to him is the fact that he'll basically be "performing" for the whole country. But he doesn't really care about that, doesn't feel any stirrings of stage fright or hesitation, because if he's being honest, he doesn't really mind what anyone thinks of him. There's no use gauging your worth from people who don't know you, and Marquis is just content to hang out backstage and hopefully make some friends. His all-around goal is to just have fun.
Of course, that's slightly offset by the fact that the Games are tomorrow... but he doesn't think about that.
Chalet dressed him in a big, bright, over-the-top outfit, for which Marquis is glad. He'd been told that this was just like the Parade, except he'd have to talk, and the sponsors would basically be using this five-minute interview as source material for whether they'd support him or not.
But that's all just technicality. Marquis is trying to stay as chill as possible. He's in a fun outfit, full of restless energy and surrounded by his allies.
They're all sort of milling about in a disorganized clump backstage, not yet corralled into an orderly fashion by the Capitolites. The interviews are still yet to begin. Marquis has to take some excitement in knowing that these are the first ever interviews, a historic moment really, that he should be glad to be apart of. But really, he's got this sick feeling slowly building inside him, the idea that him Volunteering meant so much more than he'd first thought. In the moment, it had simply felt like a fun opportunity that his colleagues had convinced him to try, just a high-intensity adventure game that he might get money or fame from, or maybe just make some friends.
But all of that was just a fabrication, so now he's left wondering what's even real anymore.
As for his allies and his feelings toward them... well, they're all fine, cool in their own ways, and he doesn't have anything against any of them, though he doesn't particularly like them, either. Naya's a good leader, with her calm confidence. She's speaking to Blade at present with Alessio serving as interpreter, probably trying to figure out what his deal is. Tremor Atilius is serene, seemingly unaffected, with his cool exterior. Something within Marquis desperately wants to tell Tremor about everything; his fears and uncertainties, just to talk to someone. Out of all the Careers, he seems the most kind, with his innocent expression and angelic features. Naya is... she's a lot, and that's saying something for Marquis. Not in a bad way; and in fact, Marquis would like to know her better. But he also just hasn't really gotten the chance to talk to her.
And as for the two other boys, Blade and Alessio, they seem fine. Perhaps a bit sullen, a bit closed-off, not people that Marquis would party with by any means. Marquis doesn't know what he expected out of this alliance, but it certainly wasn't this.
Somebody calls places. A flurry of activity erupts backstage as a group of trainers and mentors come to urge the Tributes to order. Marquis flashes an encouraging smile to his friends, the Careers, which isn't necessarily reciprocated, but not denied either. They're a generally solemn bunch, and anyone else would probably feel intimidated, but Marquis just winks before getting into his place in line. He's second to go onstage for his interview. He should probably make it good.
The girl from One looks broody and entirely un-theatric, her shoulders slumped, her stage presence practically nonexistent. Marquis has the urge to comfort her, but the curtains are opening and she's already hurrying onstage. Marquis gets a glimpse of the roaring crowd, and he smiles. They're all dressed in the funnest outfits, with their hair colored in delightfully eccentric tones. His type of people, no doubt about that.
The Master of Ceremonies, Pericles McMaster, looks slick in his fine suit, his slightly graying hair combed back, but something about him just doesn't sit right with Marquis. Maybe it's the slightly judging slant to his gaze as the his District partner fumbles through her interview. He was expecting somebody boisterous, flamboyant, to be Master of Ceremonies, but he supposes he can work with anybody in a pinch.
"Thank you, that will be all, Miss," says Pericles, slightly stiffly. "And now, please welcome Marquis Kennedy."
This is where he truly shines. Marquis walks onto the stage with all the confidence and energy he can muster, a giant smile blooming on his face. For a moment, he forgets about everything but the rush of the audience clapping, the feeling of freedom as he takes center stage.
"Hello there, Mr. Kennedy. It's so nice to meet you. How are you doing tonight?" says Pericles.
Marquis smiles. "I'm doing great. The Capitol's absolutely amazing and I appreciate everything that you guys have done for me. How are you, though?"
He falls easily into the cadence of performing; though he's never done it this way before, always moonlighting as Tiffany, everything about it is still very familiar.
"I'm fine, thank you. But let's talk more about you! You seem to be very charming and well-rounded, though your score wasn't quite as high as the other Careers. Want to explain that?"
Marquis has never excelled at one particular weapon, always doing just fine on all of them; a jack-of-all-trades, in many people's eyes. He isn't at all bothered by the score— which isn't that low in the first place—because it's just a number. There are more important things, and really it's not something he wants to talk about, but well... he can't openly contradict the Master of Ceremonies.
"Yeah!" Marquis says, trying to hide his wince and probably failing. "I'd say I don't have a particular strength in one weapon, and that might make me score lower because I'm less specialized, but I do have other talents!"
Not really talents that would apply in the Games, but they exist nonetheless. Besides, he's just hoping to be likeable enough that the Capitol sponsors him, and maybe that will be enough. With the other Careers backing him, it'll be fine.
"That's admirable," says Pericles. "Sometimes it's good to focus on a little bit of everything, just in case they don't have your preferred weapon in the Arena. But you talked about other talents? Care to elaborate?"
Marquis smiles. This is safer ground.
"Yeah, I actually do drag," he says casually.
Pericles smiles, but there's something uninterested in his expression. At least the audience is murmuring in interest. "Hmm, that's nice," says Pericles. "And how might that apply to the Games?"
Marquis grits his teeth. He's always hated people who were jerks for no reason, especially since he's just living life and having fun; and besides, what kind of question is that? Career training was always just something for fun, one of the many things he spends his time doing. He wants to say all of this to Pericles, call him judgmental, but Marquis knows it's not worth it. He's comfortable in his own skin, and nobody can change that.
"It's not relevant," he says carefully, keeping his laidback tone, "but I enjoy it. Volunteering was actually a very last-minute thing, not at the top of my priority list for my whole life like some Careers, and just because I'm a Career doesn't mean it's the only thing about me."
He says this all with confidence and ease, being honest and trying not to come off as condescending. But really, he doesn't care how he comes off, because the audience is once again cheering in approval.
A buzzer rings through the room and Marquis's microphone turns off; his time is up. Pericles smiles, but it looks false. "Thank you for your time, Marquis. It's been a pleasure having you."
Marquis smiles and waves at the audience, savoring the spotlight for just a moment more before leaving the stage.
People can think what they want about him, but Marquis knows he'll always be happy with who he is, because he loves himself. He cares about other people too, and wants to better the world, but sometimes people are just jerks, and all Marquis can do about that is shake it off and keep smiling. Life's too short for anything else.
...
Columbia "Colby" Novella, 17, District Five Female
Acting is an art in which Columbia Novella is well-versed. There are tricks, of course—diction and overexaggeration, making sure not to break the fourth wall, always staying in character—but when it all comes down to it, acting is just another lie. Another story, another game in which Colby is the main player.
She waits in the wings, watching with intwest—and at times, distaste—as the Tributes progress through their interviews; some are more impressive than others. The girl from Two: bland. The boy from Two: stiff. The girl from Three: too nice. They all have things that can be exploited, and Colby spends her time figuring out just how exactly to do it. These Tributes are all pawns in her game of chess, side characters in her tale, mere ensemble in her big debut. They will soon be forgotten, while Colby will forever be remembered.
She hopes.
And what would she be remembered for? How many roles can she take on, how many faces does she keep stored in her repertoire? She cannot count them. And yet... is someone remembered for simply being an impostor?
Her parents probably won't be. They cheated, lied and connived their way to the top, only to be convicted and punished for their crimes. Now their hopes lie in Colby, and Colby alone. They want her to succeed. She lives to make their lives better, to bring them back their dream. She has never once been vulnerable, never known the meaning of her own identity.
But what is Colby's life, if not a story?
All this thinking makes her head hurt. She'll leave that to Callisto, and all the good it does him. Poor boy, flipping through his notecards, fabricating exactly what he will say. Reciting his story. Little does he know that he's only a means to an end in the grand scheme of things. Colby's entire future rests on this interview. She must steal the Capitol's hearts, as she's stolen the hearts of many friends and lovers before—none of which were actually ever hers. But this time she is not searching for romance. She is looking to be approved by the Capitol, whose lofty charms so intrigue her. They will bow before the power of her voice.
The girl from Four takes the stage. She's surprisingly calm and laser-focused; at least she knows what she wants. At one point, she looks out at the crowd with her eyes full of confidence, her voice carrying a scathing note. "I will do anything to achieve my goals," she announces. "Anything at all."
The boy from Four hovers just behind the curtains, a wild restlessness about him that Colby cannot place. He could be dangerous.
"We're next," she tells her twin. "Remember, no countering my story. Just roll with it."
He looks at her with slight puzzlement, his eyes laden with reluctance, before finally nodding. Even he is under her thumb. Something about that saddens her.
Poor Callisto. If only he could escape this madness, and not be dragged down with her.
The Master of Ceremonies calls her to the stage. She walks into the light with casual confidence, sways with the rhythm of the applause, basks in the glory of being seen. Oh how beautiful it is to have the upper hand. If only they knew.
"Miss Novella," Pericles McMaster greets. "So nice to have you here."
"It's my pleasure, Mr. McMaster," she croons.
"How are you feeling?" he asks. "Ready for the Games?"
"I have never been better," she says, before taking on a slightly shy air. "I... suppose I am ready as I'll ever be. It's just... there's something troubling me."
"Do tell!" says Pericles. "What's on your mind?"
Colby sighs despairingly. "I only wish... I just lament the fact that my twin must also experience so tragic a situation."
"Your twin is here too?" asks Pericles.
"Alas! I was Reaped, and my dearest brother Volunteered in order to be with me. We could not part with each other, you see."
The audience gives a collective "awww." Pericles sighs sadly.
"Oh, Columbia, that's so terrible. I'm sorry."
(As if they weren't involved in this. As if they couldn't stop it at a moment's notice. But oh well, that doesn't matter.)
"I know that this can only end in tragedy. I just hope that my dear Callisto, my other half, can make it out of here alive."
Poor Cal could never kill anybody. But Colby knows she wouldn't hesitate, though she's never spilt a drop of blood before. That's what makes them different. That's why she succeeds and he fails. It's just how life goes. She has a chance to tell the story, and she won't hesitate to take that chance. She doesn't need her brother's forgiveness, but perhaps it would be nice to have it.
"So you two are close?" says Pericles.
"Birds of a feather," says Columbia. "I don't think... I don't think I could live without him."
Tears bloom in her eyes and spill down her cheeks. They taste like treachery.
"A pair of twins. How tragic is that, Panem? Don't you want to see them safe?"
Pericles is on her side. She can always get people on her side. She'll stack her lies high like dominoes and her empire will never topple.
The audience cheers for her as she knew they would. They all want to see her happy and safe, such a sweet girl, a lost soul clinging to her brother. If only her and Cal really were the best of friends. If only Cal would weep for her if she was gone. If only anyone would.
Colby swoons before the audience, the perfect ingenue. She loves the attention. And yet something tells her that she'll never be satisfied until she wins, leaving a trail of destruction behind her. And then what? What will she have left?
Phase one is complete. This loss of energy she has is an imperfection that needs to be erased. There is no room for mistakes in her play, no time to forget lines. And if she feels something within her... she can bury it away for the sake of being perfect, of keeping this story alive, of staying on top.
...
Felicia Simmons, 16, District Eight Female
It's almost time. Felicia catches one last glance of herself in the mirror. She is gorgeous as usual, looking like a princess with her long black hair pulled into an elaborate do. Her blue eyes pop with their glittering eye shadow, and her dress looks straight out of a fairytale. She twirls one of her curls around her finger, luxuriating in the feel of being beautiful. Passing a stylishly-dressed stagehand who is a few years into his twenties, she flashes a wink and a smile.
"We should hang out later," she whispers. "I'll be in the Eight apartment if you'd like to go on a date."
The guy looks at her with open surprise, as if shocked that she is talking to him, before waving her ahead. "You're on in a minute," he mumbles.
Oh well. Felicia can't deny that she hoped to have a line of Capitol boys vying for her hand; she dreamed of the Capitol for so many years. To be loved by them, to be swept into the fame and prestige... to go from being a damsel to a queen, saved by a noble prince... it all seemed idyllic in her head. She had it all worked out.
But now that it's actually happening... it doesn't seem all that wonderful.
Perhaps all she has to do is get a man to fall in love with her, and everything will click into place. Luckily, she's got Buck. (Though their interactions have gotten no less superficial; something feels wrong about their relationship. Perhaps it's all a lie. But my, is it a lovely one.)
She finally makes her way to the curtain and peeks through, to see the girl from Seven boldly interacting with the Master of Ceremonies. The audience is cheering her on. How can Felicia get that same approval, that same adoration? It simply doesn't seem fair that she's worked and tried and felt her very soul dwindle for this, only to have a fifteen-year-old make it look so effortless.
It seems to be only a blink before she hears her name. "Oops!" she mutters. She might've zoned out, thinking about all those fine-looking boys in the audience, but now it's her turn and she's stumbling onstage, tripping on her train.
She's such a fool. All she's good for is her looks, her beauty; that's the one thing keeping her from being a total ditz, a lost case. And maybe she is anyway.
That just means she has to try harder to be beautiful, the perfect girl, in order to win someone's affection.
"Hi, sorry!" she says, the microphone giving a terrible screech as she bumps into it.
The Master of Ceremonies chuckles awkwardly. "Hello, Felicia! You look stunning, by the way."
Oh, thank the stars.
"Why thank you, Pericles! As you can see, Mr. O'Shea and his assistants worked very hard to get my look just right."
"And what a fabulous look it is!" Pericles says. "How has the Capitol been treating you?"
Felicia allows herself a little swoon. "It's all I've ever dreamed of and more." A lie, but one that she wants to be true. "Everything and everyone is simply beautiful. I wish I could live here forever!"
"You just might, if you win," says Pericles, though he looks doubtful. Patronizing.
Felicia is so tired of being belittled; by herself and by the world. Where is her escape? She just wants to get out of this vicious cycle, and the thought maybe escaping her little town full of small-minded people would help with that. But it seems she's doomed to stay the same forever, to someday be a matronly spinster. If she wins, she has to remind herself. She keeps forgetting that the Games are no longer something innocent and clothed in mystery.
"I do hope that I can win!" she says, though the words fall flat. "But my first priority... is finding love. That's what I was most excited about when I got Reaped."
Pericles' eyes narrow, but the audience seems to lean closer as one. She picks out a swoopy-haired boy in the front row and gives him a sugared smile. He does not seem to notice.
"Such an... interesting priority, Felicia. I hope that you find it."
She does, too. Because at this point, it's all she has.
The interview ends anticlimactically, and Felicia finds herself feeling worse than she did before. She sweeps backstage to check on Buck, gives him a big smile. "Good luck on your interview, love!" she stage-whispers.
He looks up and gives a laidback smile. "Thanks, Felicia," he murmurs.
And with that she's gone. Alone again.
She still has time to win him over. Some relationships are slow and gradual, and she's fine with that. But... well, she's sort of running out of time, and he's her last hope.
Of course, she's still got the Games. Nobody said she wasn't allowed to fall in love while fighting for her life, right? Such a setting could add new life to their romance! Yes, that feels much better.
Felicia readies for bed feeling much lighter. Perhaps her happily-ever-after is still within reach. Or perhaps she's giving herself false hope. But false hope is still hope, after all. So Felicia pulls the covers to her chin, falls asleep with a big smile on her face, and dreams of lies draped in lace, fears hidden beneath layers of makeup. She dreams of sweet-smelling roses laden with thorns, and of a girl made of insubstantial smoke, fading away on the wind.
...
Asa Trevino, 15, District Nine Female
"I wish I had wildflowers to give you," says Asa sadly.
It is the night before the Games. It feels like a special occasion; the last time Asa will feel truly safe for a long while. For other holidays, like birthdays or anniversaries only they share, Asa would plan a romantic date; a night beneath the stars, a walk among the flowers. And Luz would give him a gift and remind him what it felt like to love and be loved. He craved affection for so long, imagined himself being seen by someone else, in the arms of someone who cared about him. It's every bit as beautiful as he pictured.
Luz smiles gently. "Why would I need flowers?"
"It's just... don't people get flowers after performances?"
They're waiting backstage, leaning against a wall, so close together that Asa can feel the warmth of Luz's body and see each of her dark eyelashes. He cannot stop looking at her.
"This is different." Luz chuckles. "But I appreciate the sentiment."
Asa stands up straight, tired of standing still, and peeks through the curtains—a thing that the Capitolites told him strictly not to do. The girl from Eight is speaking, confessing that she's always wanted to find true love. That was his biggest dream once, but now he has that and more.
Luz joins him behind the curtain. "You're not supposed to do that," she says, but her voice is fond.
He grins. "You're almost up."
"I know."
"I never thought the Master of Ceremonies would be so..." He mimics Pericles's elaborate hand gestures, his phony smile. Luz laughs, a wonderful sound.
"He does seem a bit... condescending," says Luz, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. "I hate people like that."
Asa nods. He's thinking about his interview, and all those people. It's not as if he's nervous to be in front of such a large audience, but... he doesn't want to talk about his father. He thinks of his looming shadow, his breath laden with whiskey, chasing him through the house. And Asa, running. Always running.
Asa finds his breath quickening. Everything suddenly feels so real. The Games tomorrow, the world watching him, and Luz—his lighthouse in the stormy sea—being ripped away from him. How will he survive without her?
But no. He won't have to do this alone. He'll be dead before her; he has to make sure of that. He hates to lie to her, hates all of this... he can't stop panicking.
Luz's voice slips through his storm of thoughts. "Asa. Are you okay?"
He tries to find her eyes, but he cannot meet them.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm fine," he manages, still trying to calm his breath.
She reaches out for him and he flinches back, an irrational action. Images swim behind his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers again, feeling foolish.
Luz smiles warmly, understanding in her eyes. "Just breathe with me. In, out. Look at me."
He manages to meet her gaze, where he finds calm, warmth and acceptance. He doesn't deserve her—
But no. She's always told him that he was deserving of love. And Luz doesn't lie. He finds his breathing calming down, the urge to run fading away. "Can I touch you?" she asks softly.
He nods. She cups his cheek.
"The interviews are nothing to be afraid of. You're going to do great. I'll be with you every step of the way, even if we can't be onstage together. I'm not going to leave you alone."
"What if they ask about-" He cannot bear to finish the sentence.
Understanding fills her eyes. "Then you don't have to answer them. You're in control here."
Just then, they call Luz's name. She flashes him a reassuring smile and he gives her a thumbs-up before she walks out into the spotlight.
Asa can hear what they're saying through the speaker system, but he leans forward all the same. He tunes out while Pericles prattles on about how wonderful it is to have her, but once all the formalities are out of the way, Luz is allowed to speak. Her voice is calm, musical; she's always able to keep a cool head in situations like these.
"One of the most important people to me is my District partner, Asa Trevino," she says.
"I see! You two knew each other before being Reaped?" he asks.
"Very well, yes. Asa is one the funniest people I know. He always sees me for who I truly am. I would do anything for him."
Asa cannot stop smiling. He's never had someone speak so highly of him before. His father would never dream of it, and his mother... Asa cannot even remember her voice. Of course, the Contreras are kind and wonderful and more than he ever could've asked for, but to hear someone he loves so much speak about him with such kindness almost brings him to tears.
"Don't tell me you two are in love?" says Pericles. Asa cannot pick apart the tone of his voice, and he can't see his face, but he can hear the smile in Luz's voice.
"Yes, I guess you could say that. I love Asa and he loves me. We're dating."
The audience erupts with sound. Coos of approval and cheers of delight. Asa cannot help imagining a wedding, once they're older; bathed in sunlight, the Contreras watching from the audience. There would be music, and a beautiful bouquet of Queen Anne's Lace...
"Well this is a tragic situation, isn't it?" says Pericles, and Asa feels his fantasy dissolve.
That wedding can't happen, won't happen. But it's so hard not to hope.
"Yes," whispers Luz. "But I'm not leaving his side, not until the very end."
The audience reacts, and the interview ends, and Asa is walking as if in a dream. The lights are dazzling.
"And here's the boy we've been hearing so much about!" says Pericles. "Asa Trevino."
Asa smiles. "Yep, that's me!"
"Now forgive me for being forward, but I must know if you return Miss Contreras' feelings! Are you two really in love, as she says you are?"
Something about this feels all wrong, but Asa could never give up a chance to talk about Luz, even if it's to a man who's only trying to get money out of it.
He smiles. "We met when we were twelve. I love everything about Luz: the way she's so careful with the customers at the apothecary, the way she always listens to me. She's so smart, and just being with her makes me feel calmer. Her family is so welcoming and kind."
The words flow from him without much difficulty. Talking about Luz is one of the most natural things he's ever done. When his time runs out, the audience cheers for him and he leaves the stage feeling an inexplicable dread.
But at least he has Luz, for the moment. He cannot spend all of his remaining time with her worrying; the only thing he can do is savor each moment.
...
All I've Ever Known- Hadestown
Hiiii! How are you all doing? We took a quick break but now we are back with interviews and this was such a joy to write. I hope you enjoyed it. Just a quick note; if anything is offensive, or if there are any inaccuracies, please let me know. I'm not perfect, but I want to improve! And do you have any thoughts about the upcoming Games or some things we learned about the Tributes this chapter? Let me know, if you feel like it! Next chapter is the night before the Games, and it's a chapter I've been excited to write for a while! But with all that said, I think we're done for now! Thanks again for all the support!
Much Love,
Miri