Author's Note
I do not own the Hunger Games.
Phoenix Sterling, 13
The two of them lay against the cold stone of the mausoleum roof as the shouts and footsteps faded into the distance. Her heart thumped in her chest.
Beside her, Vivaldi was trembling, crying softly into his hands. She didn't dare touch him and make him cry out, or start a conversation, in case they attracted those other players back, so they stayed huddled like that until Dawn's light began to spill across the sky.
The other players never returned.
"Vivaldi," Phoenix whispered.
He stirred against her. His face wasn't so pretty any more, being red and blotchy from his crying.
"What?"
"The fog's coming down again. We're moving back into the day cycle."
He sniffled and rubbed at his eyes. "Oh."
Phoenix propped herself up on her elbows. "I don't think any of them are coming back."
"The- The girl. Did you know her?"
Phoenix wet her lips. "Not entirely. I think that was Artemis Gilmore. Apollo's sister."
Vivaldi still looked uncomprehending.
She sighed. "He died yesterday, remember?"
"Yeah," he muttered.
"I don't know why she helped us though."
From what she'd heard of her siblings' complaints about the Gilmores, it wasn't exactly the most… Artemis Gilmore thing to do.
"Maybe she recognised you?" he suggested quietly.
"If she did, I think she'd be more likely to kill me."
Especially while her armour was still at zero. Hadn't Radiance once said something about armour-up gifts? She needed one of those.
She raised her eyebrows. "And talking of recognising people…"
Vivaldi turned away. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I'm assuming that was your boy Thorin."
He flinched. "I said I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, that's tough, because he just tried to kill us both while his friends called us Capital scum, so we're talking about this."
"We're not."
"If you want to get down from this roof, we are."
"I could get-" He glanced over the edge. "Do-own."
"We'll need each other if we want to do it safely. You're missing armour points too now, thanks to your boyfriend."
"I'm not even sure he is my boyfriend anymore," he muttered.
"So why don't you tell me about him?" Phoenix wrapped her arms around herself, staring out into the fog. "Is he from one of the Districts?"
"I- I don't- I mean, I didn't think so. He told me he was from one of the outer rings." Vivaldi smiled, distant and foggy. "I just assumed he was trying to better himself. He was always so… adventurous."
Phoenix flinched. That could have been him exploring the Capital, seeing how it worked. Not that she'd ever say as much to Vivaldi. Though by the look on his face, he might already suspect.
"Those others with him…"
Vivaldi shook his head. "I don't know them." He frowned. "I don't think I know any of his other friends. He always just said he only needed me." His eyes glowed with a warm fondness. "It always felt so romantic."
"He never mentioned anyone?"
"I… I don't think so."
"What about his parents?"
Vivaldi frowned. "I think he grew up in a Children's Home, but he's never really spoken much about it."
Phoenix groaned. "I thought he was your boyfriend?"
Vivaldi flung his hands up. "I thought so too!"
Zephyr Almon, 13
It was a surprise to wake up and find the alliance hadn't killed or abandoned them in their sleep.
That was what Zephyr had expected, he'd even admit it. Celeste wasn't good at the whole socialising with normal people thing, and this alliance and its plan to go chasing after her firebird had got Silverie killed.
But when he woke up and looked around, the group was still with them.
Luminita and Marcellina were making breakfast, Sorcha and Calpurnia were checking the edges of their camp, and Emeria was crying.
Reasonable.
"Who's hungry?" Luminita asked.
All of them except Celeste gathered round. Zephyr sighed and headed over to fetch her.
"We must make haste," she said.
"No one's making anything until we've all had breakfast," he replied, pulling her back to the campfire.
"The firebird is in trouble. We must make haste," she said again.
"Yeah. We'll do that. After we've eaten. Here." He handed her the helping of vegetables Marcellina had offered him.
She picked at it, still looking distinctly uncomfortable. Zephyr sighed. "Is it the whole 'make haste' thing?"
She shook her head. "There is danger approaching."
"We're playing the Hunger Games; there's danger everywhere."
A dull beeping filled the air and a white parachute appeared above them. Zephyr frowned. "Another sponsor gift?" He glanced at Celeste. "This isn't the danger, is it?"
She shrugged.
The parachute floated slowly down, landing a few steps in front of him. The District Seven seal was embossed on the top. For him then. He neared it, drawing his knife and stretching out to smack the open button with the blade. By now he'd attracted the attention of his allies and they were gathering round behind him.
The sponsor box slid open, folding down into itself before it dissolved and leaving behind a red-bound rectangle.
"A book?" Calpurnia scoffed.
Sorcha grumbled. "Well, what use is that?"
Zephyr found a stone beside him and tossed it at the book. It clattered against the cover, but nothing exploded or spewed from the book. Zephyr edged forward to pick it up. "Tarot and You; How to Read the Cards." He groaned and glared up at the sky. "Oh, very funny!"
Ares Gilmore, 15
Apollo's face had been in the sky last night, and Ares had sat and watched his brother die.
His brother, who had been there for every day of Ares's life.
They had fought, as brothers did, but they had loved each other, as brothers did. Now there was nothing but an empty hole in Ares's heart where Apollo should be.
And when he looked at Iridescence…
He couldn't let her brothers feel that same pain.
But Iridescence had been seizing since he woke up.
And Ares…
Really didn't know what to do.
They learned basic first aid at school, it was one of his required classes, but none of them had ever covered this.
He had tried to cushion her head and removed her bow so she wouldn't either break it or hurt herself on it, but he wasn't sure what else he was meant to do. She trembled beside him, her eyes rolling.
"Uh, sponsors?" he mumbled, twisting his hands together. They'd said they wouldn't trust sponsor gifts after Wonder's poisoned canteen, but maybe… maybe poison would be a mercy compared to this. "I know we said we didn't want any more sponsor gifts… but if you want to… send medicine or something… we'd appreciate it."
And it might be Iridescence's only chance. How long could a person last like this? How long before her brain or her heart or something else vital finally shut down?
He was watching her die and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
Another long thirty minutes passed before she finally fell still.
But she was still breathing, her armour still active.
"Uh… Iridescence?" he asked.
She moaned, and he'd never been so glad to hear one of the Sterlings make noise.
"Can you understand me?" he asked, but she didn't seem to. It would have to be enough for now that she was alive. Breathing. Her face with colour.
Ares held her hand until her eyes started to look a little more comprehending. She squinted up at him. "Ae– Ae-rees?"
"Yeah." He squeezed her hand. "Yeah, I'm here."
She groaned and rubbed her head. "It… hurts."
"I'm with you," he replied.
Could none of the sponsors really spare them any medicine? Painkiller? Something to help ease her suffering?
"I don't understand what's wrong with me," she croaked. Glittering tears trickled down her cheeks.
"You just need to hang on. Please. Just stay with me, and someone will save us; someone will shut this cursed Game down."
Iridescence whimpered, making pained sobbing sounds in her throat. "What if they don't? Or– What if I can't?" She dragged a hand across her face. "We should just cut my throat so you don't have to deal with this."
Ares wrapped his arm around her. "Come on. We should move a little, in case anyone comes by here."
She nodded weakly and let him lift her to her feet.
She would make it. She had to. Not just to her brothers, but from the arena and into reality again.
They both had to.
Her for her family and him for what remained of his.