Oxygen (Chapter 3 Part 1)

She was numb. Her limbs were like rubber, disconnected from her form, unable to be moved at all. All she could hear was a small beeping noise and some shuffling, as if her hearing hadn't quite come back yet, everything sounding muffled and distorted. It was as though she was under water, struggling to get back to the surface, slowly falling down into the depths. Trying to move any part of her only yielded pain. She couldn't see anything, either.

That wasn't what scared her the most. What scared her the most was the distinct emptiness that was in her head. There was simply nothing there where the majority of her thoughts should be.

The pain that she felt was dim and blunt, as though it was fading in and out. Her paralysis was a wall that she couldn't break through, nothing working the way it should. She could remember words, feelings, and could remember how everything worked.

Something was still missing. Her vision was starting to come back ,but all she could start to see was blurry whiteness. Eyes open, all she could do was blink. The sounds in her ears started to become more and more distinct, the flurry of motion around her coming into focus. People were talking loudly, gesturing in her direction, poking and prodding her with small tools and odd contraptions.

When they noticed that she was awake, that there was some light behind her eyes, the frenzy descended upon her. The voices grew to a fever pitch.

The pain increased, her sense of touch not yet intact, enough still being there to let her know that people were touching her. She could feel her heart beating in her chest. Something about her heartbeat felt different, but she couldn't identify how. Not exactly sure how she even could remember it feeling different, she watched as person after person appeared over her face, all with the same blurry look of concern. Some of them, however, had a look to them that almost looked like pride.

Their mutterings still beyond what she could decipher, she tensed, realizing that she could suddenly relax and tense her limbs. The tips of her fingers were movable, too, but something was preventing them from truly moving. It almost felt like there were restraints around her, keeping her tied down to the table.

Everything was still a haze of confusion, and time seemed to pass in an odd way. She could sense everyone moving around her, but they all seemed to be moving at a breakneck pace, far faster than she could track. Was she truly conscious, or was this a strange dream? She couldn't quite tell.

The oddness of it was starting to frustrate her. She wanted to scream, to kick, to move around in some way. It felt like an eternity for her, waiting there on that table as things slowly came in and out of focus. Everything around her went so fast that it hurt her to look at, the speed increasing and increasing until she couldn't take it anymore.

Feeling dizzy, she closed her eyes. That was a mistake. Once her eyes were closed, she couldn't feel anything anymore, and all sense of time and space became lost to her. Stuck, she drifted in and out of thought, misery overtaking her senses.

After an unknown amount of time later, she woke up.

This time, she could feel her limbs, carefully moving her left arm up and down as she slowly opened her eyes. The bright lights above her caused her to wince, but she stayed strong, realizing that the restraints that were on her previously were now gone. This room seemed warmer, different from where she had been previously. Had she been moved? Something told her that this must be a hospital.

The sense of emptiness was still prominent, however, Basic information wasn't popping up in her brain. Her name and who she was remaining a mystery to her.

Now that she could move around, she struggled to pick her head up, looking down at her own body. She was dressed in a basic hospital gown.

The only notable feature of her body was the collection of similar looking tattoos that covered her left arm. A bunch of stylized eyes, all almost the same, done in deep purple ink. They went up and down her entire arm, stopping right before her hand. She wiggled her fingers, trying to sit up and get a better view of what was going on in the room. The tattoos were strange. Were they really hers? She had no frame of reference for why they were there, or what they meant to her.

The room itself was relatively small, with an IV next to her bed and a chair seated at the counter on the opposite wall. The door was closed, and a small camera in the corner of the room stared directly at her. She supposed that the camera was why there was no one in the room with her at the moment. Getting up was probably a bad idea, so she stayed seated, still examining her arm as she waited for someone to come in.

Everything still hurt a little bit, but it felt much better than it had before. There were a number of scars on her arms, as if she'd been connected to something, but there was no longer anything attached to her, not even the IV that sat at her side. How long had it been since she'd first woken up? There was no way for her to tell.

A few minutes later, she heard footsteps in the hallway outside of where she sat, waiting for the inevitable to come as she stared at the door. It opened, revealing a masked figure with a pair of glasses over their eyes, completely covered from head to toe in an odd pair of scrubs. This figure carried a large binder and a pen, and another figure came in afterward, similarly dressed. This second figure held a case of tools, most of which scared her. The binder had some small text on it, unreadable at this angle, and the doctor placed the binder on the counter as soon as they caught her looking at it.

"You are awake. Good," said the first figure, sitting down in the chair as the other hovered nearby. She nodded, her feet dangling off the edge of the table now. The other person opened their case of tools, coming over with something that looked like a pencil with a meter attached to it, holding it over her body and scanning her. The person gave a nod to the first, who typed someone up on a small portable tablet that they'd taken out of their pocket.

She started to speak, but the firm gaze of the doctors made her halt, shutting her mouth just as quickly as she opened it. Her throat seemed hoarse, as if she hadn't used her voice in a long time.

"You were in an accident several months ago. There are important people interested in your recovery. Your memory loss is an unfortunate side effect of the process, and we did all that we could to fix it," stated the first doctor.

She frowned, confused as to why this was necessary information. Of course they would do all they could to fix it. The mention of a process made her squirm, as if remembering something uncomfortable. What exactly had been done to her? She couldn't remember any people, let alone who she was. Something horrible must have happened to her to make her like this.

"In the interest of observing your recovery, you will be moved to our long term care facility. Please do not ask questions at this time. More information will be told to you following your progress in recovering," the first doctor tapped more notes into their device, while the second stood near them.

A long term care facility? They weren't going to tell her anything right away? Somehow, that made her angry, though she wasn't sure why. She at least wanted to be told what had happened to her. This doctor also seemed so inhuman, like a machine instead of a person. Opening her mouth again, a hand was held up to stop her, making her scowl.

"I'm sorry about all of this," said the second doctor, more sympathetic in his tone. "Your name is Rosehip. That's about all I can tell you," At hearing her name, she blinked, and repeated it in her mind. Rosehip. Rosehip. Yes, that seemed right. However, it didn't bring any new information to light, not helping her remember anything else of use. It was a pretty name, and it must have fit her.

Who had called her Rosehip? Thinking about it more, she wondered if this was actually her name, or something they'd made up. Somehow, she figured that they were telling the truth. It was too odd of a name for them to be lying about it.

Shortly after the doctors said it, a queasy feeling in her stomach made her feel ill. She could almost hear someone shouting her name, then whispering it over and over again.

Someone had cared about her. The voice was so familiar, she almost felt as if it was here in the room with her. Looking at the doctors, she began to feel faint, causing the more sympathetic one to rush over and help her lie back down on the table. Her consciousness began to slip once more, the room spinning, her name still repeating over and over in her mind. Rosehip wasn't sure where she was, but she knew one thing.

There was someone out there that wanted her alive.

Two men stood on a Capitol city street next to a wide platform, one that was meant for commuters to wait for their trains at. They were around the same height and wore similar suits, the iridescent material shimmering in the moonlight. Like many other citizens of the Capitol, they had vibrant hair, one with lime green hair cut in an airy style while the other's hair was as multicolored as his attire. The two clearly had been planning on meeting each other, what with their matching apparel. Looking down at his feet and then back up, the one with green hair turned to his counterpart, nudging him gently with an elbow.

"Did you hear the news?" he asked, eyes meeting those of the other man, who proceeded to nod. The green haired man shook his head, a sadness apparent on his face.

It was nighttime, the city streets bustling with pedestrians and cars, the sounds of the city able to be heard as the two stood near the platform. The faces of the two men looked alike, but one was several years younger than the other, the multicolored haired one looking more youthful. Their features suggested that they were perhaps brothers, or closely related in some other capacity. There were a few other passengers waiting on a train, but the men took no note of them.

"Such a tragedy. Lullaby delivered some of the better games in the past decade. I can't imagine who would do such a thing to her," said the green haired man without waiting for a response. There was obvious sorrow in his voice.

The other man sighed, checking his watch and then glancing up at his brother. He seemed a little less interested in the conversation, more focused on whatever he was thinking about. Internally, he was hoping that his brother would drop the topic, knowing that he himself had no love for the dead woman. The games under her had been intriguing, yes, but they lacked that certain something that made them truly special.

"You never had the joy of meeting her. I'm not glad she's gone, but I feel as though I know the motive of whoever took her down," he replied, rolling his eyes. It was true, many people hated Lullaby Amadeus. Many found that she was a little too self-absorbed, even as a resident of the Capitol. Her standards were impossibly high, and she liked to get people fired on a whim.

He was lucky that he still had a job after his few encounters with her. As a stylist, he was deeply connected to the games, and when they went badly, he saw the wrath of the gamemakers firsthand. They were truly a terrifying force.

Being the stylist for district seven, Vale Viridis was lucky enough to have had a victor the past games. Most of his tributes were uninteresting, all with the same muscular physique and the personality of a log of wood, but the last year had been particularly generous to him. Ezekiel had been a shining star, someone that finally appreciated his designs and had the personality to display them.

Vale still was in contact with him, helping him out with outfits when the victor visited the capitol. In fact, he'd dressed him for the interview that had taken place earlier that day. He hadn't had time to be in the audience, however.

Tonight, he was going out for dinner with his brother, something that he'd been dreading for weeks. His brother had no appreciation for his job, and frequently brought it up in conversation. They got along fine, most of the time, but Vale just preferred to avoid him.

This dinner was due to their mother's insistence that they spend some time together, and neither of them wanted to disappoint their mother. Of course, they'd had to meet up before the dinner and travel there together, much to his annoyance. Kirston had always been a vexation to him, despite Vale being the younger of the pair.

"Hmph. Do you know who's taking her place?" asked Kirston, looking slightly grumpier. Vale shook his head. There was no way for him to know which other gamemaker would be taking her place, and he wasn't exactly privy to that information.

The news had just come out about her death, so it was likely that it would take another week or more for them to announce who'd have the seat next. If he had to guess, he'd probably say that it would take longer, giving the circumstances around the death. It was a strange way to go about doing things, that kind of manslaughter. Gamemakers died all the time, but that was normally in other ways.

It wasn't as though he particularly cared, though. The games would work in the same way they always had, and as long as his job wasn't threatened, he'd be fine. Having a victor in the past year also gave him some job security, even though the victory had nothing to do with him.

Checking his pocket, he felt his phone buzz, taking it out and reading the headline that appeared on the screen. More news about Ms. Amadeus. He opened up the article, scrolling through it to look at the pictures and quotes. Apparently her helpers had been found dead at the scene, too. It was all so odd. He couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Are you going to get the filet mignon? I've heard it's particularly good at the place we're going to," responded Vale, trying to distract his brother. As a food critic, Kirston loved to talk about what made a restaurant subpar, and would go on for way too long about the quality of the meat they were serving and the garnishes that accompanied it.

Luckily, his brother took the bait, beginning to complain about the restaurant. Vale tuned him out, enjoying listening to the other sounds of the city, nodding whenever his brother said something that required a reply. Their train arrived as his brother was speaking, which Vale was eternally grateful for.

Like many other trains in the Capitol, the train was the highest class of speed and elegance, built for both comfort and getting halfway across the city in less than ten minutes.

The two brothers stepped onto the train, swiftly finding seats near each other. Vale preferred not to sit directly next to his brother, and he was grateful that his brother felt the same. It wasn't long before the train began moving again, headed to the spice district of the city. Taking out his phone, Vale scrolled through the news headlines, trying to ignore the ever-present headline about the recent death. Nothing of interest, unfortunately, minus something about another stylist.

Apparently there would be a new stylist for District Twelve this year. He'd heard their name before, something typical of the capitol, as most stylists in contention for the games were aware of each other's presence. Wondering what happened to the last stylist, he figured that they just hadn't been cut out for the job. There was a high stylist turnover rate in the lower districts, and if someone didn't do well enough, they'd be swiftly replaced. Any good stylist would get a promotion as well, meaning that the jobs of higher up stylists were always in danger if they didn't do well enough either. It didn't matter that there were two stylists per district.

Taking a look around the train, he took note of the other passengers. Being a capitol citizen, nothing was strange or odd to him.

The lady with pink skin and claw-like nails, the man with numerous piercings, the child with hair long enough to touch the ground. It all was normal to him, his own multicolored hair making him fit right in. In fact, his hair color was only a mild touch, compared to what most other residents chose to do.

He was wary of doing something that would be seen as distasteful a few years down the road, and being a stylist meant critique from others. He'd rather be seen as boring than as out of fashion.

Their train swiftly arrived at their destination, pulling into the station as Vale checked his watch. Perfectly on time, per usual. He stood up, his brother following after him, and the two stepped off the train. It would only be a short walk to their destination.

Normally, he would have got an automated car to drive him there, but his brother insisted on them taking the train, saying something about the short walk being good for their health. Vale didn't really believe him, but he wasn't going to argue over something so trivial. As they made their way out of the station, neither brother spoke a word to the other. Kirston seemed absorbed in thought.

Stopping outside of the restaurant, someone that had just gotten out of a car nearly bumped into Vale.

The teal-haired man held his hands up in an apologetic gesture, to which Vale nodded. He swore that he recognized the elaborate hairstyle he wore, but he couldn't quite place him. The hair-horns were a trendy style at the moment, and many people with longer hair liked to wear them from time to time. Maybe this man had something to do with the games? He wasn't quite sure.

Not paying it any mind, he entered the restaurant with his brother, being ushered to a table by the host. Vale sat down, quietly musing over the happenings of the day. Only two months until the games, and two weeks until the victors' dinner.

Headache (Chapter 3 part 2)

"Draw, Deis," said a smooth voice. The owner of the voice was a lanky man with icy white hair, pulled up into a messy bun around the back of his head. Sitting in a plush chair, leaning back, he stared intently at the woman across from him, eyes narrowed. His blacked out scleras and dark irises gave him the appearance of having no pupils, giving him a menacing appearance that spoke volumes about what sort of man he was.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he waved a hand in the air, pointing to a large spread out pile of cards that sat on the table between him and the woman.

The long skirt that he wore had a large slit in the side, revealing his crossed legs. The rings he wore on his hands were all made of black metal, reflecting in the dim light of the room. The mesh bodysuit tucked underneath the skirt revealed a tattoo on his chest, a pattern looking like the laces of the corset visible there, a thin black band going around his upper chest as well. He wore an assortment of necklaces, many wrapping around his neck tightly.

His heavily lidded eyes surveyed the room before landing back on Deis, the woman that sat across from him.

"I'm waiting," he intoned, his voice barely above a whisper yet able to be heard clearly from across the table.

There was a certain threatening aura that he exuded, though a weapon could not be visibly seen on his person. His focus returned to the cards on the table. Each of the cards had a smooth, matte back with an intricate design upon them.

Deis' eyes scanned the cards, her trembling visible when she reached out a hand. Her hand hovered over the cards, but immediately withdrew, looking back up at the man. Her manicured nails shone in the light, the little gems on them twinkling.

"What if it- what if it says something bad?" whined Deis, the wide brimmed hat she wore nearly slipping off of her head. She scrambled to fix it, tugging it firmly onto her head and patting it to make sure it stayed still. The woman sat forward in her own chair once more, hands clasped together, her leg shaking as she nervously looked up at the man and then immediately back down at the cards. It was clear that she was too scared to meet his eyes.

Stifling a yawn, he scoffed, lazily pointing a hand at the cards. He took the drink next to him, taking a sip of the blue liquid before setting the glass back down.

"The cards aren't going to strike you dead if you get something you don't want to hear. Hurry it up," he replied, his patience waning by the second. He knew very well that the cards were harmless. The answers that they revealed were what others were often scared of. Deis in particular was a person that feared answers, and he was more than happy to provide them. As she reached to the cards for the final time, she snatched one sitting on top, hastily turning it over.

A winged silhouette could be seen on it, the bottom of the card proclaiming it as The Angel.

"Apsis, what does that mean? The Angel? Is it a good thing?" she fretted, eyes gone wide. Apsis brought a hand to his face, sighing.

He had been hoping that the cards would have something more interesting in store for Deis, but he wasn't entirely surprised. Thinking about it more, he decided it fit quite well. He'd asked the cards what was representative of Deis, and they had answered. He trusted that the cards would tell the truth, but they often worked in mysterious ways, sometimes surprising him. This particular answer was easily interpreted, at least.

Apsis didn't use the cards as a way to predict the future. They just didn't work like that. Instead, the cards could be seen as a way to connect with the circumstances of life, to discern meaning behind things that were otherwise forgotten. If someone thought that the cards would bring them ruin, then they'd find ruin in their life.

He'd heard of cards that had some sort of spiritual power, but his deck was a creation on its own. They were a tool for him to read people with. It just so happened that people liked to spill a lot of secrets when they were faced with answers from the cards, and he used that to his advantage.

"I'd say that it's a good thing, yes. The Angel brings hope, representing faith and potential progress towards a goal. If you're looking for a sign that you're moving in the right direction, The Angel is there," he began, seeing Deis' face go from one of worry to one of tentative joy.

He held up his hand before she could speak, signaling that he wasn't done speaking yet. She shrank back, pausing, the joy she'd had moments before disappearing. Internally, he laughed. Seeing her discomfort brought him great joy.

"Something in your life requires faith. You're at a crossroads, going between two choices, and you must trust that you're making the right one. If you second guess yourself, you may find that problems will occur," he finished, watching as she was deep in thought. After a second of muttering to herself, most of which Apsis couldn't hear, there was relief on her face.

She nodded, and sat up, no longer trembling. Apsis was both pleased and disappointed. While it was fun watching her, he also knew that he couldn't intimidate her forever, and that he needed to let her relax. After all, he wasn't here to make enemies. He valued Deis as a friend, as taxing as she could be sometimes.

"Thanks, Apsis," she said, beginning to stand up but glancing back to make sure he wasn't going to stop her. He shrugged, leaning forward to gather up the cards on the table. Once they were back in a stack, he took out a small pouch, putting the cards gently inside.

Once Deis was gone, he put the pouch back into a small purse beside him. Smiling to himself, he took another sip of the beverage beside him, draining it of whatever contents it still had left. Finishing with it, he put it back on the coaster, and then looked around the large room. The other patrons of the club were still absorbed in their own business, not paying attention to him.

He wouldn't be surprised if they did pay attention to him, however. This might be a high-profile club, but seeing the escort for district one walking around wasn't a typical sight. In all honesty, he was only at this particular place because of Deis, as she'd chosen the meeting location. She was the escort for district six, which is how they knew each other. Most other escorts for the career districts wouldn't pay much attention to an escort from six, but he was different.

Apsis made it his business to get to know all eleven other escorts, and maintain a connection with each of them. This wasn't only for his job, it was so that he was able to keep tabs on them.

Apsis had a certain interest in maintaining the welfare between the escorts. It was much easier to deal with work when the others weren't completely afraid of him. Granted, a lot of them were still afraid of him to some degree, Deis included, but they were less annoying when they knew he wasn't out to get them. Being the escort for district one, he was in a position of power that allowed him to extend his control over the other escorts. His years of experience had led him to the coveted spot, and he had no intention of letting anyone else take it.

Deciding that he'd rather spend a few more minutes in his secluded corner of the establishment, he ran a hand through his silvery hair. He'd recently gotten it redyed, and therefore didn't need to worry about his roots for some time.

Taking out his phone, he noticed that he had a few new messages. Most were from other associates, but there was one that stood out to him. Sighing, he swiped to open it, rolling his eyes. It was just as he'd suspected. Standing up, he quickly responded to the message with one of his own, and then began moving to leave the club.

Weaving his way in and out of the other tables, occasionally giving a half smile to someone that recognized him, he made his way out of the building and out a side entrance, into the back alley where he could have some privacy. Calling the number that had texted him, he waited for them to answer.

"Tenebrae. We found her," said the voice once it picked up, causing him to tilt his head. His mouth opened in shock. Very little could get Apsis to display any unexpected emotion, and hearing those words made him feel lightheaded. Had they really found her?

They'd been looking for her for six months now. He'd known that she had to be back, they'd received enough information about that, but he hadn't expected them to actually find her. He wasn't sure how the caller on the other line was remaining composed, as he had a greater stake in this than Apsis did himself, leading him to believe that there was some sort of caveat to the news.

"You actually found her? I presume that the results from last night led to this?" he replied, walking further back into the alley so that no one could hear him. The call was on a safe line, and he knew that he didn't have to worry about being monitored, but he would prefer that no one walking by saw him.

He figured that he wouldn't get too much information without meeting the caller in person, but that might not happen for weeks with the current state of things. Apsis wondered how much trouble it had been to find the information. He knew how it was acquired, but was unsure of the miniscule details.

"Yes, but… Tenebrae. She's in bad condition. I got away as long as I could, but there's no way I'll be able to get to her. Preparations are ramping up. I have to keep up appearances, all of my spare time goes to that. I don't know how I can do this. You won't be able to do anything, either, so don't bother asking," said the man on the other end, his voice straining with obvious emotion as he spoke.

Apsis shook his head. He rarely heard this level of emotion from his associate. This was a busy time of year, and it was only going to get busier. There would be very few chances to act, and Apsis himself wouldn't be able to do much.

"So she was in the districts? I don't know what we can do now, but I can assure you, we'll get her back. It might just take some time," he responded, biting the inside of his cheek.

In all honesty, he wasn't sure how he'd be able to help. He wouldn't be able to assist in the retrieval, but he could provide some support from this side, along with more information. The other man already knew more than he did, though, especially concerning the games. There was almost no chance that she was in district one, so he wouldn't be much help there, and he wasn't about to tell the district five escort about their search. No, there had to be a different way he could help. That other way eluded him at the present, however.

"And your father isn't going to stop this?" he continued, after hearing nothing back from the other end. His contact had more connections than even he did, and yet was in a precarious position. A muffled sigh of frustration could be heard, causing him to wonder what was truly going on there. He figured that the call wouldn't be very long, and that their time was already ticking down.

Yet, the person on the other end didn't seem concerned with the timing of the call. Apsis understood, knowing that this was rather difficult for the other man, especially since the solution seemed out of sight.

"My father won't do anything, whether it's to help or to hinder. I already have a plan. We know which district she's in, and I've taken some liberties recently that should help immensely. Assuming everything works, we should have her back before the end of the Games. I just don't want them to mess her up more than they already have," said the voice.

Apsis raised his eyebrows. By the end of the Games? That would be a fairly quick turnaround. They still had two months until reaping day, but that wasn't a lot of time in the grand scheme of things. Getting her back would probably require more effort than his associate seemed to realize.

"I hope your plan is a sound one. They won't make it easy for you," responded Apsis, glancing around the alley again. The other man should be smart enough to have something that actually works planned out, yet Apsis knew that his desperation could drive him to doing things that weren't the most intelligent. If something went wrong, more people that he cared about could get hurt. He'd never admit to caring about others, but he did, and he needed to make sure those people were smart enough to keep themselves out of trouble.

Years of being distanced from true friendships had made him cautious.

"I know. I just want her back. I can't keep doing this for much longer," the voice cracked, making the silver haired man shake his head.

Judging from what he'd said, Apsis had a sinking feeling that he knew what had happened to her. If he was correct, then there would be no going back to normal, or truly getting her back to the way things were before. He pitied his friend, and hoped that he knew what was at stake. If something went wrong in all of this, there would be consequences. Apsis wasn't prepared to face those consequences, either. He just hoped that the other man would be ready for them.

"I have to go. I'll keep you updated if I learn anything else of use," said the voice on the other end of the line. Apsis nodded, listening to the click of the phone as it hung up.

For a second, he stood there, processing, and then began walking to get out of the dark alley. It was probably time for him to call a vehicle to take him back home. Having never turned his phone off, he pressed a few buttons and arranged for a car to come get him. Finally leaving the alley, he blinked at the bright lights, but stood his ground. There were a few pedestrians walking around, but considering it was a couple hours past midnight, there weren't as many people around.

The usual nightlife crowd was already inside or had gone home, so the streets weren't as crowded as they normally were. It took a few minutes for his vehicle to arrive, but once it did, he swiftly got inside.

The driver was his normal chauffeur, an older man with a neon orange mustache and no hair anywhere else on his head. As soon as he was inside, the car began to move, already on its way to the destination of Apsis' apartment. As he sat, he watched the lights go by outside the car window, only half seeing them and mostly focusing on what was in his own mind.

The upcoming months would bring much turmoil, but he had to stay focused on the games. If he let himself get distracted, he'd be all out of sorts, and he couldn't let that happen. His position was the second-most important thing to him. Apsis knew that it wouldn't get any easier.

All he felt inside his chest was a weak sort of weariness, as if he was tired of constantly having to worry about things not under his control. He needed to focus on what he could control, which was an awful lot of things. Putting the call out of his mind, he told himself that he'd think about it another day.

Taking the pouch of cards out of his small purse, he opened it up, grabbing the first card that he touched. With a flourish, he pulled it out, peering down at it with the light of his phone to see what card he had gotten.

Home. An interesting card, considering the circumstances. Home was normally defined as a connection between people, rather than an actual building or a family. To him, Home represented something that he could never truly have. It was a feeling that he was always close to, but never really touching, something that he couldn't ever acquire. It frustrated him, most of the time, but this case was different.

If they'd found her, they could get her back. It wasn't for him that he cared about this for, but for the people that wanted her back more than anything. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten all wrapped up in this mess. Apsis sincerely hoped that this would all end smoothly, but something told him that it wouldn't.

There he was again, focusing on the wrong things. He shoved the card back into the bag, careful not to disturb or fold the others. Annoyed, he leaned back, closing his eyes and trying to center himself. He was a mess right now. If he had to see anyone important, he'd immediately be seen as weak. That wasn't good.

The car pulled into the spot in front of the back entrance of his building. Thanking the driver and giving him a tip, he exited the car, making sure he had both his phone and his bag.

It had been a long, exhausting night. He was more than ready to settle down, take a nice bath, and then sleep for a few hours before he had to get up in the morning. Once he was in the building, he stepped onto the elevator, riding up it in silence as he studied his reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were only hidden with makeup and could still be seen. That would be something he'd have to take care of the next day.

Entering his apartment, he flopped down on his bed, not even bothering to take off his outfit. For a second, he laid there, then forced himself to get up. Tomorrow morning wasn't going to be very much fun if he didn't sleep at least a little bit. Going into the bathroom, he began taking off his makeup. After several minutes of wiping away the heavily caked powders, he looked back at his own face, squinting in the mirror. His face looked gaunt and pale. There wasn't much he could do about it tonight, though.

Another day was fast approaching, and he wanted to be ready for when it began.

This chapter is a long one, mainly because I realized that I was going to have too many prologues and started combining the chapters I'd already written. Rosehip, Vale, and Apsis will join Crescent and Foil as our pov characters for the prologues and the interludes that'll occur later. As a reminder, submissions are still open! Please check with me first to ensure that a district is still open before submitting, just in case. As a note about Apsis' deck of cards, I've tried to make them distinct from tarot cards, though they operate in similar ways. His cards are different in that their specific purpose is to better read people, and therefore are not real tarot cards, not being spiritual in any way. If you made it through the chapter, thanks for reading! The next few chapters will be similar in length, at least until we get to the intros for the tributes. Chapter updates will occur once a week, typically on Sundays. I appreciate anyone that reads this, and hope that you'll continue reading in the future!