Jest Valencia, 18
District 5, He/Him
June 2nd, 97 ADD
2:17 AM
Jest awoke to a knock on his door. His Mentor, Albert, stood in the hall.
"We've arrived," he said quietly. "We were supposed to sleep on the train, but your prep team has requested to see you now."
This woke Jest up. "What?"
He took a better look at Albert; the older man was clearly on edge, his shoulders tight.
"I don't know," Albert said. "And I don't like it, but I don't think we have a choice."
"Should I, um, change my clothes?"
"If you want."
Jest darted back inside and changed out of his pajamas. From there, Albert led him to the front of the train, where Peacekeepers were waiting for them. Albert made to follow, but the Peacekeepers held out their arms.
"Only Mr. Valencia."
"You can't do that," Albert insisted.
"Only the tribute."
Albert glanced at Jest, who didn't know what to think, before relenting. "I don't know what's happening," Albert started, "but I will be having words-"
The nearest Peacekeeper yanked Jest forward. The others circled him, blocking off Albert.
(And any chance of escape.)
After lots of walking- Jest couldn't see where he was going past the Peacekeepers- he was shoved into a room with fluorescent lights and a white tile floor. Several Capitolites were waiting for him, and a few Avoxes stood along the walls as though trying to disappear into them.
"Welcome!" the nearest Capitolite screeched. He was a tall, thin man with long pink hair. "Shirt off, please. We'll need to get started right away. Come, sit!"
The man gestured towards a smooth black chair. Jest removed his shirt, then hesitated.
"As I said," the stylist screeched, "right away!"
Jest ducked his head and followed instructions. As soon as he was seated, the other four stylists approached, each holding a spray bottle, a cloth, and a razor.
Jest swallowed. "What are those for…?"
"Cleaning you up, of course," the pink-haired stylist answered. "We'll have to get rid of the fake ones before replacing them with the real deal!"
Suddenly, Jest couldn't breathe. "Sorry, what?"
Two Avoxes stepped forward and began strapping him into the chair. Stylists started scrubbing at his fake tattoos.
"What are you doing?" Jest demanded, beginning to struggle.
The pink-haired stylist towered over him. "Consider it a compliment!" he said. "We love the look you have going with the tattoos already, but we were so disappointed to discover it was fake. So with an extended prep session, we can rectify that!"
"No," Jest said, desperate. "No, no, please don't-"
"The more you struggle, the worse the linework will be," the head stylist snapped.
The stylists started shaving his arms. One reached for a stencil.
"You can't tattoo my whole body in a few hours," Jest pleaded.
"I can't," the stylist agreed. "That's why I have assistants. Five people working together can accomplish much!"
"The left arm is ready," one stylist announced.
"Excellent!" the head stylist replied. "I'll get started on that immediately."
And as the buzz of the first tattoo gun- then the second, third, fourth, fifth- filled his ears, there was nothing Jest could do.
(Other than hope Jori, wherever he was now, wasn't watching his brother become the mask he'd always been able to remove at the end of the day.)
Zinnia Urkyztrum, 14
District 3, She/Her
10:48 AM
The prep session with the stylists was brutal. From the tweezing and waxing and nail buffing and scrubbing and poking and prodding, every step of the process was a sensory nightmare. Eventually, though, her stylists got her dressed and dragged her in front of a mirror.
The head stylist, a woman with coily purple hair, said something in the mirror behind her.
Zinnia didn't respond.
The head stylist repeated herself.
Zinnia frowned and tapped her ear.
The head stylist's purple eyebrows scrunched together with confusion. Zinnia turned to get a better look at her and was able to read "hearing aid" on her lips.
Zinnia pulled the hearing aid out, gave the stylist a thumbs down, and shrugged.
(She was on another silent stretch after her parents had forgotten about her hearing aid batteries again. She'd managed to read Kellen's lips pretty well, as he spoke slowly and clearly for her, and wrote things down when it got confusing. But the silence only made her feel more alone. More distant. She hadn't even realized her name was called at the Reapings until someone pushed her towards the stage. When she did realize, she cried, which embarrassed her, which didn't help her stop crying.
Panem was an even crueler world when it was silent.)
The stylist gestured towards the hearing aid. Can I have it? Zinnia read from her lips.
Zinnia hesitated. Not for long, though. It wasn't as though she had any use for it right now. Reluctantly, she let the stylist take the device. The woman strutted back towards the other stylists under her, and they began talking. One of them took the device and left.
About fifteen minutes later, they came back. The head stylist grabbed her hearing aid and handed it back to her. Try it now.
Zinnia took it and gingerly placed it back in her ear.
"Better?"
Zinnia stared at her, eyes wide. She'd solved one of Zinnia's biggest problems like it was nothing.
"If it happens again, tell someone next time, and we'll fix it. The other one, please."
Zinnia quickly removed her other hearing aid and handed it over. This time, the other stylist was only gone for a few minutes before returning the hearing aid with a fresh battery. While they were gone, Zinnia turned to look at herself in the mirror.
She wore a sleeveless, boxy dress, and her skin was coated in silver dust. Hinges had been painted on her shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers, and knees. She reached up to touch the bun on her head- it was hard to the touch with styling products. She looked like a cross between a robot and a doll.
(Zinnia had never been good at seeing the best in life. All she could see in the mirror was a scared little girl, about to walk to her doom. The robot-doll makeup made her look even more childish.
Maybe it was fitting. Maybe she really was a robot-doll on her way to her doom, unable to speak up and save herself.)
The stylist came back with the other hearing aid, and Zinnia pressed it into her ear.
(At least she had her hearing back.
Still, she'd need much more to have a chance of getting through the Games.)
Bastet Avarne, 18
District 2, She/They
11:10 AM
They lingered by the chariot, tapping her fingernails against the wood.
"Nervous?" Mercury asked. They were both dressed as warriors, with their hair slicked back and sharp eyeliner, and her partner seemed pleased to be shirtless as well.
Bastet scowled. "Shut up, Vidovic."
Mercury grinned. "Don't worry, I won't take that personal."
"I wish you would."
Before Mercury could respond, another pair entered the cavern. They started walking toward Bastet and Mercury, but before Bastet's heart could stop, she registered who it was. Not District One, but District Four.
Even better.
As they approached their chariot, Bastet held out a hand to the girl. "Hello," she said, conjuring their warmest smile. "What's your name?"
The Four girl shook it firmly. "Tisiphone Fotis," she replied. "And you?"
"Bastet Avarne," they replied, giving Tisiphone's hand a small squeeze. Instead of pulling away, they lingered until Tisiphone broke away first.
"I'm so glad to finally meet you," Bastet purred. She glanced at the boys, who were already deep in their own conversation. Well, Mercury was talking. The Four boy was doing most of the listening. She leaned in closer. "You know, of our alliance members, you're the one I'm looking forward to working with most."
Tisiphone arched an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Of course," Bastet replied. "Why wouldn't you be?"
A hint of a blush rose to Tisiphone's freckled cheeks. Bastet did have to admit that Tisiphone was very pretty. All the better for their purposes.
Bastet smiled again, acting as though she hadn't noticed Tisiphone's hesitation. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership, Tiss," they said, flashing a grin. "Can I call you Tiss?"
Tisiphone's mouth slipping into a frown. "I'd prefer not."
"Oh! I'm so sorry."
"It's alright," she replied, shaking her head. "My sisters nicknamed me Pissy Tissy. You wouldn't have known."
Bastet wanted to laugh, but seeing Tisiphone's face, forced it back. "I'm so sorry," they said. "That's awfully mean. I don't know why anyone would say that."
Tisiphone sighed. "Me neither…"
Then, out of the corner of her eye, behind Tisiphone, she saw her.
Aveline.
She wore a long, golden, shimmering gown with a high leg slit and a crown, with lipstick and eyeshadow to match. She was so dazzling that it was hard for Bastet to look at her, but they couldn't tear their eyes away.
Aveline.
Aveline's eyes met hers, and she broke out in a run.
Bastet shifted her gaze back to Tisiphone and started to laugh. As soon as they knew Aveline was in earshot, she cried, "Oh my god, Tisiphone! You're so funny!"
Tisiphone frowned. "What?"
Bastet kept laughing as Aveline ran to her side. "Bas," she breathed, and Bastet's heart twisted in their chest.
(How many months it had been.)
Bastet opened her mouth.
(And remembered how many nights they'd spent curled up in a ball, sobbing, nightmares of Aveline's death fresh against their eyelids. How many training sessions she'd endured with Nyx tearing their every move apart. How Aveline had ruined everything and now had the audacity to act like her return was some miracle.)
She tilted her head, summoned her most innocent smile, and pressed her eyebrows together in confusion.
"Sorry, who are you?"
Bryony Kantor, 18
District 11, She/Her
11:12 AM
When Bryony and Patrek emerged from their prep sessions and reunited in the cavern, they found another pair of tributes milling near their chariot. One was a tall boy with long blond hair and pale skin. The girl was equally pale but short, with dark curly hair and sunken cheeks that even the Capitol's makeup couldn't hide. Both were dressed in typical coal miner outfits, complete with overalls, helmets, and "coal dust" smeared on their skin.
Bryony put on a smile and walked over. "Hello!"
The boy jumped a bit and turned over his shoulder to look at her. "Hello," he said.
"I'm Bryony," she said. She gestured at Patrek, who was a few paces behind her. "This is my partner Patrek. We're from Eleven."
The boy hesitated. He glanced at the girl, but she was staring off into the distance. "I'm Tiernan," he eventually said. "From District Twelve."
"It's nice to meet you!" Bryony said cheerily. She looked over at the girl. "What's your name?"
The girl didn't respond. Tiernan nudged her with his foot, and she glanced up at Bryony. "Hm?"
"What's your name?" Bryony repeated.
"Mendi," she answered, her voice soft.
"It's nice to meet you, Mendi," Bryony said. "I'm Bryony."
Mendi nodded vaguely.
Bryony glanced around. The Tens hadn't arrived yet, and Nine and Eight were busy talking already. No one else was nearby. Might as well stay there.
(She would take an awkward introduction with the Twelves over being alone any day. Bryony thrived in a community, surrounded by other people. In a cutthroat everyone-for-themself competition, there was no doubt in her mind that she wanted to avoid being alone as much as possible.)
"How was your trip here?" she asked, directing the question at Tiernan.
Tiernan glanced at Mendi again, clearly uneasy. "...Fine."
"I'd never been on a train before," Bryony replied. "Forgetting all this-" she gestured at the cavern and ridiculous costumes- "it was pretty nice!"
Tiernan nodded.
Patrek shifted from foot to foot. "Never seen that much food in my life," he said.
This caught Mendi's attention. "Me neither."
"Almost felt bad eating it all," Patrek said. "There was just… so much."
"I know," Bryony sighed. "It could've fed so many kids."
Patrek glanced at her. "I thought you said you didn't have siblings."
"I don't!" Bryony replied. "I just work with a lot of kids."
"Oh, okay."
"I don't have siblings either," Tiernan piped in.
Bryony brightened. "Look! Something we have in common!"
She could've sworn she caught the beginnings of a smile on Tiernan's face. "Yes."
"How many kids were there?" Patrek asked.
"Oh, I don't know. I lost track of the numbers a long time ago."
"Does working with kids mean you're good at first aid?" he asked intently.
She shrugged. "I'm not terrible!"
Patrek nodded. "Nice."
"Oh, you know what else I bet we all have in common?" Bryony asked. "Crazy stylists."
Tiernan started talking about his prep team, and until the parade started, the four of them- mostly Bryony, Patrek, and Tiernan- got to know one another a bit better.
(And Bryony couldn't help but feel that things were already starting to look up.)
Aescelin Ibbara-Itxal, 18
District 7, He/Him
11:27 AM
Aescelin had been thoroughly disgusted by the attitude of his prep team. Despite his protests, they had scrubbed every remnant of the forests of District Seven from his skin and hair, replacing the ties to his homeland with foul perfumed soaps and deceptive makeup products. He supposed he should've been grateful they left his hair at its current length, but he was not pleased that they'd braided it back and away from his face.
(He felt unnatural. He felt… the way he had before his enlightenment.)
(No, not enlightenment. The Spirit of the Forest isn't real. You made it up from the start.)
He supposed his costume also could have been worse. The stylists had coined him a "leafy lumberjack." Apparently that meant wearing a lot of camouflage and fake vines and holding a pretend ax.
(Plastic. All of it was plastic. He longed for real leaves, real trees, real soil… he longed for freedom.)
(But no. The Capitol was determined to rob Aescelin Ibbara-Itxal of his freedom, and the protector of Seven's forests along with it. And Aescelin would not let that stand.)
When he walked to his chariot, he found Valentina waiting for him. Her clothing was similar: camouflage, fake plants, a glittering "weapon" in her hand.
(He had to admit, he found his district partner intriguing. There was something about the gleam in her eye and the tone of her voice that had convinced Aescelin she could be an asset. Valentina Gammon was not the type of girl to sit back and let the world take from her. This attitude had won his respect.)
Valentina laughed. "You look ridiculous."
Aescelin frowned. "I'm dressed in the same clothes as you are."
Valentina wrinkled her nose. "I've never been one for camouflage."
"Neither have I," Aescelin replied. "The clothing of hunters is not to my taste."
"That… makes sense," Valentina admitted. "For you. And I must say, by the way, that you do clean up nicely." She gestured at his head. "Nice hairdo."
"It was not my choice," Aescelin replied.
Valentina pursed her lips. "I'm complimenting you. Take the damn compliment."
Aescelin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Thank you, Valentina." He did a quick scan of the rest of the cavern. "Any observations of the other competitors?"
She smirked. "Of course. Most of them I can save for later."
"Most?"
She leaned in. "The Careers are idiots."
"That's no surprise."
"I mean it. I've been keepin' an eye on them, and it's not pretty. Even more than usual."
"Excellent," Aescelin murmured. "We can leverage that to our advantage."
She gave him a look. "'We?'"
He raised an eyebrow. "I assume that's why you deigned to share the information."
Before she could respond, Peacekeepers started calling for the tributes to board the chariots. Aescelin stepped in first, extending a hand to Valentina to help her up. Valentina ignored his hand, smirking at him instead. "You think I'd show weakness that easy?"
Aescelin half-smiled back. "Just checking."
And then the chariots began to lurch forward one by one, and Aescelin was blinded by the daylight.
Invincible Gaultier, 18
District 1, They/Them
11:29 AM
Vince helped Aveline up into their chariot. Aveline accepted the help, looking more like a kicked puppy than the famous Aveline Averone, thief of a volunteer spot and District One's golden girl of mystery. They'd heard about Bastet on the train, and been witness to the tail end of their interaction. "Didn't go the way you'd hoped?" they asked.
Aveline glanced at them, eyes vacant. "No," she muttered.
"She seemed nice enough to me," Vince noted.
Aveline swallowed. "They didn't recognize me," she said softly. "I think… amnesia, or something. The day I left Two- when I thought she died- and the grenade went off, they must've hit her head-"
Vince raised an eyebrow. "Grenade?"
"It's a long story."
"Clearly." They glanced at the tunnel that led outside- there wasn't much time. "Listen. I'd love to hear the rest of that story. I absolutely mean it. We're in this together now, Aveline; the more I know, the better."
Aveline focused on them, nodding.
"But," they said, losing some of the false warmth in their tone, "right now we don't have time for that shit. We're going to be in front of all of Panem in about ten seconds, and you are not allowed to mope. You're gonna put on a goddamn smile and act like you're on top of the world, because we are. Got it?"
Aveline nodded faster, pulling back.
(It wasn't that Vince hated Aveline. Not at all. Aveline Averone was an asset to them, and Vince was determined to make full use of their association with the golden girl. After the first impressions of the other Careers, they were confident that together, the two of them would be at the top of the Pack. Was she uptight as fuck? Yes. But Vince could work around that.
What Vince was not going to tolerate, however, was Aveline's little tantrum ruining their chance at winning over the crowds. If the first thing the cameras saw was Aveline's puppy-dog eyes, seconds from tears, that was what they would remember. Not Vince, dressed to the nines and golden in their own right. Aveline was not allowed to ruin this for them. If her feelings were hurt by that, they'd make it up to her later.)
(Invincible Gaultier was an actor, for the Capitol's sake. Aveline was not going to steal the world's largest audience while they were center stage.)
Vince flashed her their most dazzling smile. "It's showtime, darling."
Aveline sighed. "You're right."
No shit, Aveline. "Ignore the Two girl. It's about time you started doing things the District One way."
Aveline raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"
Vince's grin widened. "With pizzazz, Averone!"
The door in front of them swung open, and the chariot lurched forward. Vince laughed, leaning forward and letting the daylight envelop them. The roar of the crowds filled their ears, and they roared back, waving and grinning and moving as much as possible to let the glitter do its work. The audience screamed their name so loud Vince happily would've gone deaf if it was the last thing they ever heard.
(And for one, glorious moment, they were as invincible as their namesake.)
Esper Myrellis-Verilla, 27
Victor of the 88th Hunger Games
10:15 PM
(tw: mention of parental abuse)
It had been a long day.
After the parade, Esper brought Fleur and Tomo back to the sixth floor of the Training Center. Fleur asked for a full tour, which he begrudgingly gave, while Tomo went straight for the shower. Then they had dinner and discussed how training and private sessions worked. Both his tributes were full of questions, with Tomo going so far as to take notes even though Esper assured him he wouldn't need them. Eventually they both started yawning and he sent them off to bed. They'd need the energy for tomorrow.
He was just about to go check on Sienna when the phone rang. He rubbed his eyes and made his way over to it, hoping it was someone he actually wanted to hear from. As soon as he saw the area code at the beginning of the phone number, he reached for the phone and snatched it off the wall. "Hello?"
"Hey."
The tension he'd accumulated throughout the day started to dissipate as he leaned against the wall, holding the receiver close. "Miss me already?" he asked, half-teasing.
Townes' response was immediate. "Maybe a little bit."
"Well, I missed you."
"How are you holding up?"
Esper sighed. "Fine."
"Mmm. How are the kids?"
"They… they've got big personalities."
"Tell me more."
Esper exhaled. "You caught their names, right? Metellus? Pettifur?"
"I did, yeah. Teurian's kid, right?"
"That's him. He's… not like Teurian."
"Yeah?"
"He made me call Ryden and ask him to check on his dogs."
"Sorry, what?"
"He thought his dad wouldn't feed them."
"Damn."
"I know."
"I kind of get it, though," Townes said.
"What do you mean?"
"Being afraid that Teurian wouldn't feed them. He never struck me as a dog guy. Or a kid guy."
"...A father?"
"Yeah, I guess."
(Both Townes and Esper had worked with Teurian Metellus, Head Peacekeeper of District Six, many times: Esper on court cases and Townes on government business. According to Townes, he'd shown up eight or nine years ago and quickly risen through the ranks. He wasn't the most well-liked, but he had a fairly substantial circle.
Still, Esper had had a higher opinion of him before he let Tomo get Reaped.)
Esper snorted. "Fair enough. Tomo's not a bad kid, though. Just… tense. A bit oblivious. He won't stop calling me 'Mr. Myrellis-Verilla.'"
Townes made a noise that almost sounded like a laugh. "Very formal. Should I start calling you that, too?"
"Absolutely not." Esper sighed. "I'm less concerned about him than Fleur, though."
"How's she?"
Esper hesitated. "...Energetic."
"I met her dad once or twice, and he was pretty boring for a Capitolite."
(While Esper had gone into law, Townes had followed his father's footsteps into government. And with Mayor Zamoras taking more and more time off recently, Townes was handling many of the public-facing tasks his father was supposed to be doing- so it was no surprise to Esper that Townes had met the stray Capitolite that made his way to Six. If he was remembering correctly, Townes had greeted the Pettifurs upon their arrival himself.)
(Neither of them brought up that a Capitolite shouldn't have been in the Games in the first place. Esper had a few theories about that one, but none were innocent enough to be shared over the phone.)
"Fleur isn't boring, I can promise you that. She told me she had a watch party for our wedding."
"...What?"
"Yeah."
"Apparently that's a normal thing here."
"Well, good thing you were smart and we did our private thing first."
"I was very smart for that," Esper agreed.
"You have your moments."
"Yeah." Esper paused. "Everything okay on your end?"
A breath went by. Then two. Then ten.
(Townes Myrellis-Verilla was not one for hesitating. After four years of marriage, Esper could confidently say his partner usually had the opposite problem.)
"Townes?"
"I, um…"
(It occurred to Esper that Townes had never called him while he was in the Capitol before. It was always the other way around, because Esper was so caught up in talking to sponsors and advising tributes and watching the Games. And when they did talk, the first call usually wasn't until after training started. Which it hadn't.)
(Something was wrong.)
"Did something happen?"
Townes exhaled. "You could definitely say that."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fi-"
"Ryden? Rhylee?"
"They're fine too."
"So-"
"My father died."
"...What?"
Townes' voice cracked. "Don't make me say it again."
"Oh my god."
"Yeah."
"I… are you okay? Are you safe?"
"I'm fine. He- he was an alcoholic, Esper. I just… I didn't think things were that bad…"
(He bit back his first response. Of course things were that bad. The man had spent years abusing his son, and the more he drank, the more dangerous he'd become. Frankly, Esper's first thought at the news- after making sure Townes was safe- was to be relieved. The world was better off without Aldrich Zamoras in it.)
"Esper?"
"Sorry," he answered. "Where are you?"
"At the office. I haven't been home since… what time is it?"
This caught Esper by surprise. "You're at work?"
"Yes. He… he died late last night."
(And he'd waited to tell Esper until now?)
"What have you been doing since?"
"Working."
"All day?"
"Pretty much."
"Is that why you didn't call last night?"
"I… yeah. There were a lot of documents to go through. And lawyers."
Esper rested his head against the wall. "I'm sorry you have to deal with all of this alone," he murmured. "I wish I was there."
"I'm not totally by myself. My mom's around."
"How's she?"
"Honestly? I think she's upset, but I can't tell."
"Yeah, I get how that would be… complicated."
Townes paused. "She did love him, Esper."
"I know."
"So did I."
"I know," Esper said cautiously, aware of where this conversation was heading. "It's okay."
"It's not okay," Townes said, his voice cracking again. "Nothing is okay right now. Go ahead, say it. Say what you're really thinking."
(He knew what Townes was trying to get him to admit. Of course he was more at ease with Aldrich Zamoras dead than alive. But there was no way in hell he'd tell his husband that right now, if ever. Townes didn't need to hear that.
Besides, it wasn't as though he was pleased to hear him so upset. It was just… complicated. But that didn't mean he wanted Townes to have to go through this.)
Esper hesitated. "Townes-"
"You're happy, right?"
"No, of course not-"
"You're glad he's dead-"
"Townes, stop it-"
"You've been looking forward to it-"
"I wasn't, I swear-"
"Then why did you hesitate!"
"Because I'm concerned," Esper replied firmly. "You're grieving and I'm pretty sure you haven't slept and I know you don't mean any of it. I-"
"Esper?"
"Yes?"
"They made me the fucking Mayor," Townes blurted out.
Esper was once again rendered speechless. Townes was better at that than anyone, but still, he was truly outdoing himself today. "What?"
"Yeah."
"You're… you're fucking with me."
"I'm not."
"How would that even-"
"The clause of succession is that the Mayor dictates who's next in line. He- he wrote me a whole letter and everything with all this shit in it about family legacy and pride and all his shady bullshit and I don't know what to do about any of it-"
"It's okay," Esper said, trying to reassure him. "It's okay. You don't have to have all the answers right now."
"A lot of people disagree with that."
"People disagree with me all the time. I can handle it."
"I mean, you were the one who wanted to be a lawyer…"
"Here's what you're going to do," Esper continued. "After you get off this phone call, you're going home. You're going to eat something and take a shower and go to bed and sleep as long as you have to. In the morning, when you get back to the office, you're going to call me again and we'll talk through the plan for the rest of the day. We'll go from there. Okay?"
He could hear Townes taking a few deep breaths.
"Okay?" he repeated.
"...Bossy."
(Humor was a good sign. Even though he knew that was Townes' way of pretending everything was fine. Bury it in humor and banter until he forgot the pain was even there.
For now, that was fine. Esper could handle a few jokes at his expense if that meant Townes wasn't having a nervous breakdown halfway across Panem.)
"Yes, very bossy," Esper agreed. "Can you handle that?"
"I think so."
"And if anything comes up between now and then, you call me, okay?"
Townes exhaled. "But you're busy."
"I'm always busy. And I'll always make time."
"That's not fair to ask."
"Townes," Esper replied, "what's not fair is everything you just told me."
"But the kids-"
"Won't know the difference," he interrupted.
"You can't ruin their chances for me."
"I won't. I can handle it."
"Esper…"
"Don't worry about me," Esper insisted.
"That's kind of what I signed up for."
"Well, I'm letting you off the hook."
"But-"
"The last thing you need to be doing right now is worrying about me," Esper said firmly. "You've done plenty of it. You focus on taking care of yourself and getting your father's things sorted out, and I'll be just a phone call away."
Townes paused. "And when you're done in the Capitol, I can send an early train for you to come home."
(Esper's eyes widened. There was nothing further from his mind right now than the early train.)
"That's too much," Esper argued. "I'll tell her to find another way. We had other ideas. We can try that next-"
"I'll send it," Townes replied. "The sooner I see you, the better."
"Townes."
"I promised," he replied softly. "You said it's the last piece you need. Everything else is already in place, and now we don't have to sneak it past my father. I can just do it myself."
Esper sighed. "You're sure about this?"
"Yes."
"You don't have to get involved. It's probably better if you just… let me take my own train back."
"It'll be fine," Townes replied. "Let Sienna know she can ride back with you if she wants."
"Alright." He swallowed. "I love you, okay?"
"I love you too."
"I'm so, so sorry."
"Nothing you could've done."
Esper held the receiver tighter. "I wish I was there with you right now."
"It's not what I'd call a good time."
"But then you wouldn't be alone."
"I have my best friend Ryden," Townes said, the cheer in his voice ringing false. "And Rhylee's not far."
"Still."
"I know."
"Anything else you want to talk about before I send you home?"
"Bossy again," Townes commented. "I… I don't know. I guess I always thought I'd be Mayor eventually. But not like this."
Esper nodded. "Yeah. I hear you."
"Good to know you've got the phone on the right ear."
"Townes."
"Sorry."
"Are you, though?"
"...Yes?"
Esper laughed. "If only I'd just misheard you again, huh?"
"...Yeah. That would make this a lot easier."
"If only."
A few more breaths went by.
"You should go to bed," Esper suggested. "Eat. Shower. Sleep. Call me in the morning."
"I will."
"Love you."
"Love you too."
"Goodnight."
"'Night."
A breath passed, then two, then the receiver clicked and the call ended. Esper put the receiver back in its holder and leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples and trying to process everything.
Mayor's dead. Townes is the Mayor now. Capitolite in the Games. The early train.
(He would process it. He would handle it, because that was what Esper did. He worked hard and figured it out.)
(That strategy had never failed him, and it wouldn't fail him now.)
aaaaand we've made it through the first round of pregames povs! yay! thanks for joining me with all these itty bitty povs. i hope you had fun!
next several chapters will take place during training, and everyone gets 1k. then we do private sessions with the gms and then we go to round three! i've got some fun plans up my sleeve... Haha... we'll have fun with this one!
anyway. see you next time with the first day of training!
rb
