No Luck (Chapter 7)

Foil wasn't used to the somber expression that greeted him when he opened the door of Turbine's large home. Normally, when he visited Victor's Village, he was welcomed by a cheerful smile and some sort of problem for him to solve, usually something like leaky plumbing or a need to get more groceries. He couldn't imagine what would cause this sort of change to his friend. As he was beckoned inside the house, the young adult looked around, trying to see if anything nearby had been displaced. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, at least at a first glance.

Gerald Turbine wasn't an average victor. He'd won his games in a way that many discarded as being weak, a viewpoint that Foil never really understood.

Turbine was exceedingly intelligent, using this advantage against others in a game that was normally designed to benefit the physically strongest, though the games that year had been a little different. He might have been getting older, but his brain was just as sharp as ever.

To Foil, he was practically superhuman, someone to be looked up to and respected. It was a shame that most people didn't see how smart he was. Even in district five, he was brushed aside.

Like most other people, Turbine got upset sometimes, but this was different. Foil didn't have the best insight when it came to his friends, though he could definitely tell when something was out of the ordinary, and the way Turbine was wringing his hands together made him nervous. It had only been a few days since they'd last seen each other. What could have changed in that short amount of time?

Foil stepped through the threshold, the echoing silence of the house sending a tingle through his spine. Only Turbine lived there, so it was always quiet. This was just too quiet. The older man started walking towards the living room, Foil following him.

"Is everything alright? You seem out of sorts. Is there something I can help with?" asked Foil, prompting Turbine to shake his head. He wouldn't meet Foil's eyes. The blonde was half tempted to look around to make sure there weren't any peacekeepers hiding in the house, as that could be something that would cause this reaction. Somehow, though, he didn't think that was the case.

The television was off, and it was always on. Normally, Turbine would be watching the Saturday morning broadcast, which probably would be covering more news about the Victors' dinner from several days earlier.

Thinking back to the last few days, there wasn't anything eventful that he could pick out. He'd had his normal session with Ors, which had been going on for the last month or so, and the questions were just as strange as they usually were. He still couldn't get a read on Ors, and was continuously worried about Mnemosyne. Foil knew that he shouldn't be worried about someone from the Capitol, but Mnemosyne had been such a constant in his life for so long that he couldn't help but think of her.

Scope had his ridiculous theories, as always, and those only unsettled him more.

Turbine sat down in an armchair, the television remote in his hand. He looked back at Foil, his wrinkled face conveying that he was uncomfortable. Beckoning for Foil to sit down, the younger of the two took a seat on the couch.

For a moment, all was quiet. Foil didn't want to break the silence, as he wanted to respect Turbine, but it was extremely difficult to not blurt out everything he was thinking. Was this related to the Games? They only had a month or so left until reaping day. Turbine would be mentoring, per usual, and Foil's name would be in the pile again.

"Thanks for coming over, Foil. I'm sorry that I don't have anything for you to do today," started Turbine, staring aimlessly at the wall. Foil was just about ready to run around screaming at this point, his discomfort making him twitchy.

What could be so bad that Turbine didn't want to talk to him? Their last conversation had been about Ors and his sessions. His best guess was that Turbine knew something about Ors and the appointments that was bad, and was trying to find a way to tell him.

Not being able to stand it anymore, he opened his mouth, but Turbine started speaking first.

"It's about Mnemosyne, the woman that conducted your sessions. You're not going to take this very well, Foil, but I now know who she is. I had my suspicions from the start, but I couldn't confirm them until recently. I guess I never figured it out because she was never in the spotlight, though that's changed," Turbine continued, obviously stalling for time.

Foil didn't like where this was going. His brain couldn't keep up, so he sat there silently, waiting for Turbine to tell him something that would probably change things for the worst.

Turbine took a deep breath, finally meeting his eyes.

"Mnemosyne is a gamemaker. More specifically, she's the Head Gamemaker now," said Turbine very quickly, almost too fast for Foil to hear.

Foil's mouth involuntarily opened, and he blinked several times. That was not what he'd been expecting Turbine to say. So Scope's theories were right? He couldn't accept it. It took him several seconds to recalibrate himself, and in that time, Turbine had turned on the television and had started to play a recording.

When Foil finally managed to look up at it, still in shock, a news broadcast from earlier that week greeted him, probably from a capitol channel that only the victors had access to in the districts.

There she was, silhouetted on the screen, talking to a reporter. She looked calm and confident, the ever-present clipboard gone from her hands. The headline underneath her on the screen said that it was an interview with her about some changes she was making to the way the gamemakers went about the games. Her voice was the same, her eyes just as calculating as he'd known them to be, but all traces of the softness that they'd once held was gone.

So it had all been a lie? Why had she bothered with him if she'd been a gamemaker all along? So many questions were popping up in his head.

He was a nobody. A random boy from five that hadn't done anything with his life. Foil knew that he wasn't special, and this only confused him more. Mnemosyne had never disclosed why the sessions were conducted to him, and he'd just gone along with it, knowing that he didn't have much of a choice when the capitol was involved. She hadn't been the head gamemaker when she'd run the sessions, of course, since the position had only opened up recently. Still, she would have had to be pretty high up in the line of command to inherit the position now.

The interview playing on the television drifted out of his focus as he stared blankly up at it.

Wait. Did that mean that Ors was a gamemaker too? Somehow, that was more believable to him than Mnemosyne being one. Ors had that odd feeling about him, like something else was going on underneath the surface.

This only brought up another problem. He'd had his session last night, but next week, their session was going to be difficult. Foil couldn't just pretend like he didn't know that they were gamemakers, and he couldn't continue going on like normal with them. Ors wouldn't do anything bad to him if he knew, right? A shiver went down his spine.

This could be bad, even worse than he thought.

Turbine was looking at him with concern when Foil became aware of his surroundings again. The grimace on his face didn't fade when Foil glanced over at him. In all the years they'd known each other, the younger of the two had never known Turbine to be this out of sorts.

He wanted to say something, but the words eluded him. Turbine, seeing that Foil was obviously struggling, took the remote and turned the television off, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. Involuntarily, there were tears forming in his eyes. Before he knew it, Foil had tears streaming down his face, his body shaking slightly.

"Oh, Foil. I'm sorry. I figured it was better if you knew," Turbine said softly, standing up and walking over to the blond. Putting a comforting hand on Foil's shoulder, Turbine looked down at him, taking some tissues out of his pocket and handing them over.

Foil wasn't sure exactly why he was crying, but he couldn't stop. He was scared, and didn't know what this would mean for the next week. It was weird, crying. He wasn't sure of the last time he'd cried like this, and it had to have been over five years ago. His body simply needed a way to release all of the pent up emotions.

"Why? What are they going to do?" choked out Foil between sobs. He took the tissues and wiped off his face, the soft texture of the tissue odd against his cheek. Tissues were a luxury that his family didn't really have that often, especially ones this soft. Probably imported directly from the capitol. In that moment, Foil almost resented Turbine, something that he'd never thought before. It was fleeting, however.

Turbine patted him on the back, his expression still solemn. How could he resent the man that had been there for over half of his life, the man that he trusted more than almost anyone else?

"My best guess is that the sessions will end. In all honesty, I don't know why they're doing this any more than you do, but I'll see who I can reach out to about it. I'll have to do so in a subtle way, because goodness knows I don't want to cross the Capitol. I don't have much influence, but I'll do what I can," replied Turbine.

This reassured Foil a little. It wasn't enough to make him fully stop crying, but the flow of tears slowed down. He couldn't think straight, and his brain was in a fog. Every time that he tried to form a thought, it disappeared, making him shake his head. His questions from earlier were all gone.

"Foil, you have to understand something. In my years as a victor, I've talked to gamemakers numerous times. I've never seen Mnemosyne or Ors before at an event, and gamemakers often like to hang around the Victors' Dinner. We also see gamemakers during the games. I don't know why I haven't seen Mnemosyne and suddenly she's head gamemaker. I don't pay good enough attention, of course, so I could have missed her. Ors seems more… familiar. I still can't recall if I've seen him before, though," continued Turbine.

This shocked Foil enough to make him stop sniffling.

"I've said too much. Let me think about it, Foil, and I'll get back to you about it. Don't go poking into anything when you leave," Turbine stepped back, wringing his hands together. Foil's expression shifted into one of panic, as now he was worried that their theorizing was going to get them in trouble. He couldn't let anything bad happen to Turbine.

If something bad had to happen to one of them, it had to be to Foil himself. Foil was expendable. District Five couldn't lose one of their victors. That didn't mean he was going to go searching for secrets, but he certainly wasn't going to let Turbine get in trouble.

"Please don't ask too many questions, Turbine. I'll deal with it next week at my session, if it happens," said Foil, using a tissue to blow his nose.

He winced, and then stood up, looking around. It was probably time for him to leave, and hope that nothing bad happened to Turbine while he was gone.

Just as he was turning, ready to say goodbye to the older man, he heard a noise coming from another room. The two looked at each other, and then Foil ran into the next room, skidding to a halt when he realized the noise was coming from the telephone. Turbine followed him and reached a nervous hand towards the phone.

A familiar voice came out of it when Turbine picked it up, causing Foil to jump back. Turbine was unconcerned for a second, and then his eyes widened at seeing Foil's reaction.

"Hello, Foil. Hello, Turbine," said a voice that could only belong to one person.

Chapter 7 Part 2

Rosehip was getting used to the prison-like confinements of her room. She had no idea how long she'd been in there, as every time she tried to count the days they seemed to get mixed together, and the doctors never answered her when she asked. Her world was defined by the concrete walls that surrounded her, and she was beginning to know every small crack and crevice in the stone like the back of her hand.

Her memories were still gone, and nothing new had resurfaced. The doctors hadn't given her any more information, even by accident. It seemed like this would be her life from now on.

They'd given her a long cloth dress and some undergarments, as she'd graduated from a hospital gown some time ago. Rosehip spent most of her days sleeping, waking up whenever the doctors came in to run their tests, given that there wasn't anything to do there. She had asked for some sort of entertainment, but had only been met with the answer of the doctors asking their superiors.

Occasionally, glimpses into the hallway gave her a view of the other staff and other patients. There was no telling where she was, as the doctors all wore hats and masks, not even allowing her to figure out whether she was in the capitol or the districts.

The best clues she'd been given to who she was were the tattoos on her arm. Staring menacingly at her, they always seemed to gaze back with a sort of malice that she couldn't quite interpret. She knew that they weren't real, but being deprived of ways to pass the time made it harder and harder to keep her theories at bay.

Who had she been before? It was always on her mind. Maybe she'd never know. This was her train of thought as she stared at the wall, sitting with her legs touching the floor off the side of her bed, her back turned away from the door. When Rosehip heard the door open, she whipped her head around.

Instead of the usual pair of doctors, a different person stood silhouetted in the light from the hallway. She was short, with deep burgundy hair tied up in a bun, her outfit being the most defining feature that she sported. Her high-necked black jacket had several belts crossing over it, all empty but looking like they could hold something in them. A heavy utility belt wrapped around her hips, and she wore steel-toed boots with a slight platform.

This woman didn't look like any of the doctors that Rosehip had seen before, and this concerned her immensely. It was only when the woman came striding into the room that Rosehip turned her body on the bed.

"Rosehip? Oh my goodness, it is you! They said I couldn't see you, it took me so long to get a permit so I could visit. How are you feeling? It feels like it's been ages! I mean, it has been a long time, but gosh, I thought I'd never get to see you again!" said the woman enthusiastically, a broad smile breaking out on her face.

She rushed over, looked Rosehip up and down, presumably trying to see if she was injured. Her smile never wavered, even when Rosehip stared blankly back at her. Adjusting her ponytail, she took a seat next to Rosehip on the bed, someone closing the door behind her.

"They told me that you'd lost your memories, that something had gone wrong in the process. How much did you lose? The files said it was bad, but I didn't believe them. You'd think that stuff like this wouldn't happen anymore! I have half a mind to go find those doctors myself. Oh, and before you ask, I haven't seen him yet. Ostia and I agreed that it would only make things worse. Rosie, I've missed you so much!" the woman gushed, pulling Rosehip into a tight hug before releasing her quickly.

Trying to process all of the information being thrown at her, Rosehip grimaced.

"I'm sorry, I don't…" trailed off Rosehip, confused. This strange woman didn't seem familiar, but they obviously had known each other at some point.

At least this confirmed one thing to her. Her memories weren't going to return if she saw someone she knew. The strange apparel that she wore didn't fit with what little information Rosehip knew about the capitol or the districts, though given that there wasn't much there, she could have forgotten something that explained exactly what was going on. The woman's brow furrowed at hearing her speak, and her smile disappeared.

"You don't remember me? It's me, Iv. Does that mean you don't remember him, either? You don't, do you?," she replied, her words coming out very quickly and with a slight touch of surprise to them.

"It really is gone. Ostia told me, but I just couldn't accept it. Why would things go that badly to make this happen? I mean, I know the whole accident was awful, but that wasn't out of the ordinary," Iv's brown eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. Rosehip sat there awkwardly, unable to answer any of the questions that she was being asked. This was a lot for her, after who knew how long she'd been trapped there.

"I guess this means that I have a lot of work to do. Don't worry, I'll get you out of here. Well, at least out of this room. Probably can't take you out of the building yet. So, how much do you remember?" inquired Iv, fidgeting with one of the belts across her jacket.

Rosehip perked up, eyes widening. Iv would get her out of this room? They must have been close, before this whole incident she'd spoken of had happened. If there was anything she could do to get out of this horrible confinement, she'd go along with it. Being in this room for much longer would probably drive her insane.

"Almost nothing. I know that we live in Panem, and a few things about the twelve districts, but beyond that, there's nothing. Even my name was gone when I first came back to consciousness. I still remember how to read and other basic functions, though. People and places are completely gone," Rosehip replied.

Iv made an odd face for a second, but it was gone as fast as it came. Her hands drifted towards something in her pocket, the rectangular shape of whatever it was making an outline against the fabric, a glint of metal catching the fluorescent lights. Catching Rosehip staring at it, Iv pulled out a flat device with a screen, currently powered off.

"I can't figure out why they'd keep you in here, then. It's not like you'd be a danger to anyone else in this state. Though it's kind of odd that you think… Well, never mind," started Iv, waving the device in the air as she talked.

"This is for communicating. Like a phone, but different, I guess? Gosh, I can't believe you lost that much. We need to work on getting you back to normal while I figure out what we can do to fix this. Next time I visit, I'll bring some pictures of the Capitol and stuff, just so you're not staring at the wall all the time. Do you want a coloring book or something? Can't imagine where I'd get one, but I've got my ways,"

Rosehip was having trouble following everything that the other woman was saying, but nodded along, acting as if she understood. She wished that she could write down what Iv was saying so she could think about it more later. It was hard to remember past conversations she'd had with the doctors, so she was sure that this wouldn't be any different.

On the topic of the device, she remembered what a phone was, but this was different. It was sleeker, more lightweight. The screen flickered for a second, showing a home screen with different options, all in monochrome colors.

Iv pressed a few buttons, typed in a code, and then flipped the device around so that Rosehip could see it.

A picture of three women greeted her. Immediately, she recognized the one in the middle as being herself, and the one on the right as being Iv. Maybe the other woman she didn't know was Ostia? The picture was in color, and the faint light emitting from it made Rosehip's head hurt. In the image, Iv was smiling, almost as if she was laughing and Rosehip herself was smiling slightly. The other woman looked annoyed, but still content and happy to be there. It seemed to be taken on a roof, with a bunch of high rise buildings behind them.

"This was taken in the Capitol a few years ago. That's Ostia, and you know me now. Most people here aren't allowed to have these in this wing of the building, but I'm high up enough that I'm allowed to keep it with me," Iv smiled wide, looking at the picture as if it was a fond memory.

Although she hadn't considered it, this did confirm that Iv was telling the truth. Rosehip had instinctively trusted her, without any doubts, but that was because she hadn't seemed like someone untrustworthy. Although she was a little intimidating at first, her general demeanor didn't make her seem like someone that would be dishonest.

"A coloring book sounds nice. Is Ostia around here, too?" replied Rosehip, wondering whether the more serious looking woman in the picture would come to visit. Since this was the first time someone she'd apparently known had come to visit, she highly doubted there would be anyone else that would show up, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

Hearing footsteps from the doorway, Rosehip peeked around Iv, seeing that a doctor was standing in the doorway. Iv noticed them after a second, waving them away with a flick of her hand. The door was closed again. Iv shrugged, taking the device and turning it off.

"Probably not. I think she's still in the Capitol as of this week, but she might be coming back soon. I'm not sure if she'd want to visit, it would probably be an odd experience for both of you. I've got a few more minutes before I have to go. Is there anything else you have questions about? I probably can't answer most of them, still not sure how much they're telling you, but I can certainly try," said Iv, folding her hands in front of her after slipping the device back into her pocket.

Rosehip thought for a second, trying to recall what she wanted to know the most.

"How long have I been here? When the doctors questioned me, I thought that the 113th games were happening, but they said it was almost time for the 114th. It's been some time since then, too. Is it because of my memory loss that I got the year wrong, or was I just out for that long?" Rosehip asked. Iv's eyes wandered around the room for a moment, taking in the cold concrete walls and lack of any color.

When her eyes met Rosehip's, she sighed, the energy from her face being sapped away. Feeling as though she wasn't going to get an answer, the darker haired woman stared at the floor.

"You've been here for about a month. I don't know exactly where you were before that, but the last time I saw you before today was last June. Ten months. I'd begun to lose hope. I've been so busy recently that I didn't find out about you being here until a couple of days ago. Your file didn't disclose as much as it should have, either. I'm just glad that you're mostly okay," responded Iv.

Calling her mostly okay seemed to be a bit of a stretch, but Rosehip wasn't going to question it. She'd gotten an answer to her question, which definitely helped her feel better. Ten months was a long time, though, and that only confused her more.

Somehow, the room seemed more alive now that Iv was in it, and Rosehip was disappointed that the other woman had to leave. Having a momentary burst of answers and then having them gone again was going to be harder than she'd like to think. All she could do was hope that Iv would come back soon, and that she'd bring her something to pass the time.

At least there were also things that she could think about now in addition to the never-ending volley of confused questions she had.

When Iv started to stand up, Rosehip's dejected feelings must have been visible on her face, because Iv paused and gave her a smile.

"Don't worry! I'll be back as soon as I can find the time. I'll also see if I can get some stuff in here for you to occupy yourself with," Iv said, beginning to leave the room.

Rosehip watched her go, giving her a wave as she left. Once Iv made it out of the room and before she closed the door, she muttered something under her breath. It was hard to hear, so Rosehip wasn't positive she heard it all, but she thought it sounded something like "I can't let him know."

Who was the person she was referring to? The door shut, and she was left alone with her thoughts once more.

Maybe she'd be here forever. Maybe Iv would get her out of this miserable place. Whatever the case, she had hope now, and that was what mattered. Hope could do a lot of things, most importantly, it could keep her from slipping away into the haze of confusion that she'd been in for the first week she'd been there.

Not all of her questions had been answered, though. There were some things that Iv hadn't told her.

Lying back on her bed, Rosehip closed her eyes. She trusted Iv. One day, she'd get out of there.

Chapter Seven Part 3

Ezekiel had never thought that watching the tapes of his games would be something that he'd want to do. After the games, and after the first few weeks when he'd been constantly inundated with the footage, he'd told himself that watching his games was a bad idea. No one wanted to see themselves relive their nightmares over and over again.

Every time he went to sleep, his games were in his dreams, but always slightly warped and odd. It was always just a little off, the faces and places changed ever so slightly. After months of his nightmares interfering with his actual memories, it was time to revisit what had actually happened.

As he sat alone on his bedroom floor, the television in front of him being the only light in the dark room, he leaned back on the pile of pillows that he'd surrounded himself with. The remote was in his hand. He'd been sitting there for several hours now, into the early hours of the morning, and he still hadn't gotten to the actual games.

All of the tapes started with the interviews and everything that came before the descent into what had seemed like hell, so he'd suffered through watching the faces of the dead pass by in their last week of life. Somehow, he wasn't tired in the slightest.

His return from the capitol had only happened a few days ago, those days mostly being spent sleeping and taking walks through the woods when he made himself get out of bed. The Victors' Dinner and subsequent days of being in the capitol had been extremely taxing.

Ezekiel was trying to put all thoughts of the dinner itself out of his mind, mainly because he knew that thinking about Crescent and the others would only be a recipe for disaster. The first thing he'd done when he got back had been to visit the houses of each of his older siblings, just to make sure they were still alive. There was no taking chances when it came to the Capitol.

The television's colors changed to those of the interview stage, where Tempestas Clamor sat alone, casually waiting to announce the beginning of the games themselves. At that point, Ezekiel must have already been underneath the arena, waiting to be sent up on his podium.

Thinking about it now made him wish he hadn't been so naïve. He'd gone into the games with confidence, and had left them completely changed. Maybe the luck of getting an arena that seemed perfectly suited to his skills had actually been misfortune. His heart pounded as the screen changed to the bird's eye view of the podiums.

It was easy to pick himself out of the lineup of tributes. These tapes were the original footage that had aired, not the cut down version that mainly focused on him as a victor, but they still would show a decent percentage of his experiences. He hadn't wanted to watch the victor tapes because they didn't show enough of the other tributes. Someone needed to remember them, after all.

Yet, somehow, he didn't feel any strong emotions towards them. Even the ones he'd killed, he had never stopped to think about what they'd been feeling as they'd died. Detachment was easier than forcing himself to make up false pity.

The sounds of wind outside of his window made him feel twitchy for a second, but as the clock counted down on the tapes, his body went perfectly still. His arena was shown in its full glory, the rope bridges hanging between the wooden platforms and structures in the trees being illuminated by the dawn.

Many of the tributes blinked and shielded their eyes from the bright rays, the countdown going down to zero and the cannon starting the games as they struggled to adjust their bearings. Just like that, the games had started. The bloodbath wasn't the part that Ezekiel cared about, though it had been his first kill.

Glued to the screen, he couldn't stop watching as the blood splattered across the wooden platforms as the bloodbath occurred in full force.

A brief angle on himself, hatchet in hand, flashed by as the camera kept shifting positions to capture the action. He looked calm, unconcerned, blood already coating his hands and wiped across his face. His first kill had been a boy from three, among the younger tributes, and the sight of the boy's face frozen in terror as his body laid on the floor made Ezekiel take a deep breath.

One down, several more to go. He watched as the camera showed some of his allies, gathering supplies and departing from the platform.

He almost didn't hear the telephone ring. Sighing, he turned the volume down on the tv, then got up, his stiff legs making the walk over to the phone a bit difficult. As he picked up the phone, he noticed the clock, telling him that it would soon be sunrise.

How long had it been since he'd last moved? Even then, he'd only just gotten to the games. Whoever was calling him had to have a good reason.

A thought struck him. It couldn't be Crescent, she wouldn't contact him willingly. Part of him wanted it to be her, but the caller ID told him that the call was coming from district four.

Ah. It had to be Eren.

"Ezekiel, tell me you're not still watching your games. I last called you twelve hours ago. You need some sleep, man," came the voice out of the phone, distinctively belonging to Eren Tidesurf. Ezekiel rolled his eyes, and then walked back over to the television, taking the remote and pausing the tape.

Had it really been that long? Eren had called him earlier to complain about some of the career academy students. Calls from Eren had become more frequent in the last few days, which both annoyed Ezekiel and made him grateful for the older victor. It was way too early for this, though.

"Maybe. That's not a good reason for you to call me at 5:00 in the morning. How'd you know that I'd still be watching my games? Do you even sleep?" replied Ezekiel.

He wouldn't be surprised if Eren didn't sleep. The other victor was always going on about how early he had to get up to go swimming, and thinking about it more, it was a little later than Ezekiel had thought. It might not be as weird as he thought for him to be awake.

On the other end, Eren laughed, the sound crackling a bit on the phone. If he remembered correctly, Eren also lived alone, like most of the victors did, due to the rules about who could live in the victors village.

"I do sleep, I'll have you know. You forget that I've been through this all before. When I watch my games, I usually try to watch as much as possible at a time, so I figured you'd do the same. I don't know why you'd watch them at such a random time, though. From what I've heard, the other victors typically revisit their games right before or right after the current ones," Eren said.

This made sense to Ezekiel, given that year would mark ten years since Eren's own games. He'd been 17 when he'd won, an anomaly who'd cleared district four's career trials at their academy at a young age and went on to win in an exceptionally dominant fashion.

Ezekiel's own victory at 21 was less impressive in comparison to Eren's. Even being from a non-career district and having more kills than average wasn't as talked about as the 104th games. Those games were still commented on, being a favorite of many capitolites.

If Ezekiel hadn't gotten to know Eren so quickly, he would have been intimidated by the district four victor. Lucky for him, Eren was fairly outgoing, and the two got along pretty well. Having someone to guide him through the first year after his victory was a blessing that he'd always be grateful for. Without him, he would have made many more mistakes.

"Right. You haven't heard anything from Ermine or Emmery, have you? I haven't spoken to them since I left the Capitol," asked Ezekiel. In reality, he was really asking whether they'd made it back to their districts safely, but he couldn't outright ask that on a monitored phone line.

He was also technically asking about whether Crescent was okay, which was implied, though he was unsure if Eren would catch on to that part of it. Ezekiel was a little worried about Crescent after her encounter with Apsis. While he knew worrying was pointless, he just had to make sure that she hadn't been hurt or anything. That would be bad for both of them.

"Yeah, I spoke to Emmery yesterday, and she said Ermine is fine. Emmery also got in touch with Hilbert, who confirmed that Crescent is home, too. Since she's mentoring in the next games, she'll have to go back to the Capitol a little early. I was thinking that I might go there early too, even though I don't have to. Maybe a few days, not a full week. If I can convince Emmery and Ermine, you should come as well," responded Eren.

At least everyone was back home safely. Eren's words also meant that the other victors from the rest of the districts were home as well.

While going to the Capitol early wasn't his favorite thing, he wouldn't be surprised if he had to go anyway as the most recent victor. Ezekiel was never completely sure about what he was required to do as a victor, but Eren typically helped make sure that he knew what was going on.

There were pros and cons about going to the Capitol. On one hand, he wasn't home to make sure his siblings were safe, and the Capitol meant a lot of interviews and such. On the other hand, the more he appeared out and about in the Capitol, the happier the Capitolites were, which was important. Even the newest victor knew the consequences of not playing along.

"I'll go. Just promise me you're not going to drag me to any parties. Quercus would give me another lecture, and you know I want to avoid that. Only Foliage is mentoring, since we'll only have one tribute, so Jakob will probably be following her around a lot. They won't really bother with me as long as I stay out of trouble," Ezekiel said, starting to pace around the room.

Looking outside, he could see the first rays of morning light dawning over the treeline. He was suddenly starting to feel extremely tired, and all of his energy was disappearing. Maybe he'd turn off the TV and go to sleep instead of watching more of his games.

"I can't promise you that, but I'll certainly try," said Eren casually, pausing for a second to listen to someone that Ezekiel couldn't quite hear on the other side of the line.

"Rubicon is getting impatient. Says he wants to hit the beach early. Sorry that this was short, I'll call you back later. Try to get some sleep, okay? Just, like, don't pass out from exhaustion. Actually go to sleep, if you can manage it," he continued, the phone momentarily muffled as he stepped away to yell to the other person that must have been Rubicon. Since Rubicon and Eren were close in age and both victors from district four, they typically were around each other a lot.

"Alright. Talk to you later," replied Ezekiel, the click of Eren hanging up following shortly after.

Setting down the phone, he walked over to the television, stopping the tape and turning the screen off. He felt a little dizzy, and figured that it made the most sense to shut his curtains before he got into bed. Once they were closed, he grabbed a pillow from the floor, flopping down onto the bed and turning away from the window so the sun wouldn't bother him. It wasn't long before his eyes were drifting closed, and the feeling of sleep overtaking his senses followed.

For once, he didn't dream about the games.

Chapters are going to continue to be slow from now on, but finally, the prologue is finished! This isn't the last you'll see of these characters, they'll appear in interludes from time to time, but now the focus will be on the tributes. There are still a lot of spots left, and intros will be going up over the next month or two! Submissions still open, and will be for a while. This latest chapter took me a month to write, and I'm hoping that future chapters won't take that long, though I can't guarantee anything. Intros are next!