XVIII. Rude Awakenings
Why's everything so tame?
I like my life insane
I'm fabricating and debating
Who I'm gonna kick around
Olathe Whitethorn. 18.
District Seven Male.
Really, he's the fool here. There were at least a dozen times where Olathe could've told Aleister and Lucifer to stop doing whatever the hell they were doing up on the rooftop, yet he never did. Seriously, what was he expecting? That they'd kill two people and then go to sleep like nothing happened? That was never going to be the outcome. He just didn't expect this.
Perhaps things would be better now if Olathe intervened the way he almost did want to. Maybe if Olathe decided for once to swallow his pride and not just stand around letting people make mistakes, he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have his hands cuffed together in front of him and chained to a metal rope, wouldn't have a muzzle on his mouth muffling his breathing as he walks single file to heavens-know-where, uncertainty and dread forming a pit in his stomach.
Olathe Whitethorn's never been the type to be afraid. It's hard to be daunted when you've already had a Peacekeeper appear at your doorstep and kill both your parents. He's not afraid now, either, for the record. Olathe's just… concerned. For so much of his life, everything has been predictable. For the past six years, he'd wake up, find something to eat, fix up his cottage, perhaps seduce and murder anybody who came near, then go to sleep and do it all over again the next day. Being voted into the Quell has already put a wretch into his routine, but at least at first, Olathe knew what to expect. He knew there'd be a few days of training, a private session, and an interview, and then it'd be time for the Games to begin. That's clearly not what's happening now.
Though nobody official has said anything on the matter as of late, Olathe gets the feeling that the Games won't start when they were initially planned to. Last night — or maybe it was technically morning, he doesn't know exactly — Head Gamemaker Snow talked up quite a storm about a funeral and an execution. If the Games are to start at noon and the sun is already beginning to rise into the sky, there's no way there'd be time for the funeral, execution, and preparation for the arena to occur all before then. There's going to be a delay. The only question is how long it'll be.
His District partner, Asherah, comes to a stop in front of him. Olathe's feet screech against the floor as he does the same and then looks up at the building up ahead. It's hard for him to distinguish what exactly he's looking at — it's obviously a large brick structure with gates covering the windows, but he's unsure what its purpose is.
Hopefully, once he enters whatever this place is, they'll take the cuffs off his wrists and the muzzle off his mouth. The Peacekeepers did something similar when they arrested him back in Seven — Olathe didn't like it then, and he doesn't like it now. To go from somebody who had an entire forest to explore to a creature restricted by metal and man… it's shameful. After spending so long with nothing but freedom, anything else feels cruel. Is that the point? Likely, but Olathe's under no obligation to be happy.
"Alright, Tributes!" One of the two ladies who led everybody to this remote voice projects her voice. "I'm pleased to announce that we've made it to her final destination."
The girl claps her hands and twirls. Olathe's been in her presence since the helicopter dropped him, Aleister, and Lucy at the interrogation room, and he still has no clue what her deal is. Despite being a Capitolite, she's dressed fairly normally. She's not wearing any makeup, and the only thing unnatural about her is her bleached-blonde hair - yet when she opens her mouth, she's just as insufferable as any other Capitolite.
"Now, you may be wondering where we are," the other lady, a brunette whom Olathe's also seen a lot of lately, says. "Luckily, we're going to tell you!"
Her partner shouts, "Welcome, welcome, welcome to the Capitol's former zoo!"
If he wasn't wearing a muzzle, Olathe's jaw would've dropped.
When he was younger, his parents told him about this place. He imagines it's normal for any parent to have the whole "The Hunger Games are something you'll eventually have to worry about" talk with their kids, and during his, Olathe's made special emphasis about the zoo.
("They don't do this now, but for the first decade of the Games, they used to lock Tributes up in what used to be a zoo in between arriving at the Capitol and the actual Games," his mom had told him. "Isn't that disgusting, Olathe? They'd treat everybody like animals!"
"You're far from an animal, son," his father then said. "My brother, your uncle, wasn't an animal either, and yet…"
Most of his parents' Games related lectures involved mention of Olathe's uncle, Inali. Olathe never met the man — never had the chance to because he died in the Games before Olathe was even born. All Olathe has left of Inali is his father's paranoia and his mother's remorse. )
(If Olathe dies the same way, nobody will have anything left of him. How is he supposed to make amends with that?)
"You'll be staying here for the next day," the blonde lady continues. "That probably only confuses you more, I realize, but let's just say there's been some changes to our schedule this year."
Yeah, no shit. Olathe rolls his eyes. What he already hates most about these "changes" is that he could've easily prevented them. Lucifer couldn't burn the man all by himself, and Aleister's so smitten, he'd do anything Olathe commanded if he was charming enough. The only problem with bossing the two of them around is that it'd lead to them growing suspicious of Olathe. It's far too early for that to happen.
"As a few of you may have heard, we lost one of our dearest mentors, Mister Androcles Anderson, overnight," the brunette says. She pauses, as if she's expecting a wave of remorseful sighs, but the only sound is a high-pitched shriek coming from a boy several people behind Olathe. "What's worse, it was unfortunately a Tribute that killed him."
The second statement garners a louder reaction from the Tributes. Wanting to blend in, Olathe gasps alongside the others. People's heads begin to turn, likely searching for the missing person amongst them. Again, Olathe does the same, even though he knows it's Helen from Nine who's missing.
(It's her who's going to die for no damn reason, the same way Olathe's parents did. Based on everything Aleister's said about her, Helen was harmless, albeit a religious freak. Obviously, Aleister worded it in a way that made it seem like her zealotry made her worthy of death, but Olathe was able to see through it. She did absolutely nothing wrong, and now she's going to die because of it. Nobody had a say in the matter, but even if he did, Olathe isn't sure what he would've done. Likely, he wouldn't have done anything, because ultimately Helen's imminent death is another body on the ground that isn't his own.)
(Even if he shouldn't, Olathe wants to be the last one in this line standing. Does he deserve to be? Definitely not. But like the Head Gamemaker said earlier, sometimes life isn't fair.)
"Don't waste your time trying to figure it out," the blonde woman says. "You'll see in a few hours. Besides, there's two of you missing, because… well, there's no easy way to say this, but another Tribute took their life just moments before the fire alarms went off last night."
That's something Olathe also learned when he was in the interrogation room. It was the boy from Three, Clarion. Though part of Olathe wonders if the boy's death was actually a suicide. He always seemed happy, and did well in training - though Olathe he can definitely see why being voted into a death match would make somebody want to kill themself.
(During the first few months in the Hissing Woods, Olathe wanted to do the same. It was the dreams of his parents begging him to get revenge for them that kept him alive.)
"Yes, it's very unfortunate," the brunette continues. "That Tribute's body is already en route to their home District. The Tribute who killed Androcles won't be so lucky."
"Because she did the unthinkable, both the President and Head Gamemaker Snow have decided it's best that we make an example of her so that none of you - or any Tributes that come after you, for that matter - think you can try similar funny business," the blonde lady then explains. "You'll see exactly what we mean after Androcles' funeral."
Whatever they do to Helen, Olathe hopes it's quick. The only reason he exaggerated his kills in Seven was because they didn't hold back on his parents. Because Helen's innocent, the least the Capitol could do is minimize her pain.
At the very least, however Helen dies, it'll likely be better than burning to death and definitely better than what Olathe would've done to her if he got his hands on her in the arena. After all, in there, he's got no choice but brutality. The Capitol is expecting him to put on a show. If his interview didn't make that clear, Snow's decision to spare him definitely did. Provided Olathe can give them a show, he'll get out of here with hardly a scratch.
(That's what makes the Games different from Seven. In the Hissing Woods, Olathe killed for vengeance. He cut twenty-six Peacekeepers straight to the bone then disfigured their faces before casting them aside like rag dolls. If he wasn't arrested, chances are he would've done the same to twenty-six more, all because of what they did to his family. Here, when Olathe kills, it'll be the blood of fellow children spilling onto his hands. He won't be in private; people will cheer him on for every clump of skin mangled and eye dislodged. The more blood that coats Olathe's skin, the more people will love him.)
(He doesn't mind. Hell, he's excited even to once again see the look in a victim's eye as they realize they're now at his disposal.)
After a few more instructions from the ladies, the line begins to shuffle forward. Once he gets closer to the front, Olathe is able to watch the other Tributes have their muzzles removed and get detached from the giant chain. Even if they're able to speak, their hands are still cuffed in front of them as they're forced into the zoo's giant cell. It's not much freedom, but it's better than before.
Olathe peeks over Asherah's head as the Peacekeepers free her. He sees dozens of Peacekeepers lining the walls, their hands on the trigger of their guns just in case somebody messes up and they need to be disposed of. The Tributes inside, meanwhile, look entirely miserable. The girl from Six is calming the girl from Five , both with disgruntled expressions, and the pair from Four are scowling at one another. The girl from Three has positioned herself in a corner, her body curled up on itself as she cries. The girl from One just seems confused, while her District partner and the Tributes from Two are pouting and grunting. The boy from Six is standing by the gate, presumably waiting for Asherah; Olathe's seen them together several times. It's as if a wave of melancholy has been cast over the Tributes, affecting each and every one of them save from the boy from Five. He's standing proudly with his hands on his hips and the biggest smile Olathe's seen in this place on his mouth. Weird.
Asherah steps inside of the zoo and joins the Six boy. As soon as she's gone, the Peacekeeper grabs Olathe by the chain which holds his handcuffs together and pulls him forward. It's strange. In any other situation, Olathe would be the one controlling him. This powerlessness is humiliating to say the least.
The officer reaches underneath Olathe's ponytail and unfastens his muzzle. As it drops to the ground, he takes a deep breath, his entire body instantly feeling lighter. The Peacekeeper unfastens Olathe's handcuffs from the chain then gestures inside the cell. As he walks inside, Olathe looks over his head and winks.
And then he's left waiting in the corner for Aleister and Lucifer, even if he doesn't really want to talk to them. Sure, they didn't think this would happen on the rooftop as they chose to kill Androcles, but Olathe still blames them. If they'd decided to stop pretending there's such thing as the antichrist, Olathe wouldn't be here.
He watches as Tributes slowly reunite with their alliances, some trying to pretend nothing happened and others still in a state of panic. Even if his allies will soon join him, Olathe can't help but feel alone. The Hissing Woods let him grow accustomed to solitude, but there was never a time where he felt lonely like he does now.
( "Isn't that disgusting, Olathe? They'd treat everybody like animals!"
His mother's voice echoes inside his head, so warm and comforting unlike everyone here.
"You're far from an animal, son."
This time, it's his father that he hears.)
The past six years of Olathe Whitethorn's life were dedicated to avenging his parents' unjust demise. Can he really say he was successful if he's now become the one thing they wanted to save him from becoming?
Belacaine Beaufort. 18.
District Two Female.
She doesn't really get why everyone's so pissed. Like, these are the same bitches who were malding just days ago because their Districts sent them to die, and now they're annoyed said deaths are being postponed? Belacaine doesn't get it – do these fucks want to die or not?
Personally, she doesn't want to die. Sure, she's gone on her fair share of melodramatic tantrums about how maybe she's better off dead back in Two, but like, she didn't actually mean it. Everyone's a bit dramatic when their monthly lady-bleeding time comes along.
Really, the only valid reason Belacaine can think of as to why these people might be annoyed about the Games being delayed is because they themselves were personally looking forward to killing people. Which like — that's fair, Belacaine's looking forward to getting her hands dirty too. But if she can wait, so can everybody else.
Lorian certainly can wait, jeez. The guy's veins have been popping out of his skull for the past hour and a half and he certainly isn't displaying any signs of calming the fuck down soon. Belacaine doesn't hate the guy — seriously, she doesn't — but good lord does he make it difficult to not hate him sometimes. He's just so… so… Lorian. That's sort of the only way it can be described.
(What he isn't is Ronin. Even if he thinks he is, Lorian's far from the dark and handsome brutish Two boy stereotype Belacaine grew up with. He's nothing close to the bastard Belacaine was forced to compare herself to every damn day until the one where he decided he'd sleep with her ex-girlfriend and Belacaine decided she was done. Lorian's so far from Ronin – so close to what Ronin could have been – it's a bit refreshing.)
"Are you going to tell me why you're grumpy, or are you just going to pout all morning?" Belacaine asks her District partner as he paces. "Because if you are going for the brooding bitchboy route, I'd recommend not scrunching your face so much — you're going to get wrinkles."
"Do you think you're funny?" Lorian sneers, stopping in his tracks.
"No." Belacaine smirks. "I think I'm hilarious."
"Well, you're not." The Two boy rolls his eyes. "I know it's a bit bold of me to think there's any semblance of intelligent life swimming around in your brain, but I'd think even you could figure out why I'm… displeased, to say the least."
Her brows furrow. "Because we're in a zoo?"
Personally, Belacaine doesn't give a rat's ass that they're in a place meant for animals. After all, people are animals too. Sure, it's a bit dehumanizing, she can for sure see that, but so are the Hunger Games as a whole.
It hasn't been long, but already, Belacaine doesn't think she'll mind being imprisoned. Being behind these bars affirms her of her favorite truth, that she's not some vainglorious sleaze from Two but instead a venerated murderer. That she's better than all those damned try-hards.
Lorian scoffs. "Why would I give a fuck about that?"
"Because it's wounding your pride, you poor little baby?" Belacaine coos. It's worth noting now that Lorian looks unamused - but then again, he always looks unamused. So really, he's just exceptionally unamused, which is still far more unamused than the average person.
"Okay yes, like many people, I do not enjoy being restrained," Lorian admits. "But I've been humiliated worse by my father and even more so at Shindy's, so ultimately no, this change of plans is not the reason for my discomfort."
"Then what is it?" Belacaine eggs him on. "You know you want to tell me; you know you do."
"Did you just forget our conversation last night?" He kicks back some of the dirt on the ground and grunts. "You know, us and Gremory?"
"Ah, yes," Belacaine hums. "Yes, that does ring a bell."
Honestly, she wasn't expecting much to come out of her theory that Charon's trained. The only way she'd get that information was if she asked them herself, and that would involve talking to them for an extended period of time in what'd probably be a solo setting. Belacaine doesn't think she'd be able to handle that. There's also no way their manic freak of a District partner would ever answer any questions, so Belacaine hardly considered that.
There wasn't need for her to consider it either, because as it turns out, Gremory had her covered, and Charon's actually far worse than some trained putz. He's a real, genuine, full-fledged serial killer!
(Is it wrong that Belacaine's jealous of them?)
Or at least, Gremory was testing whether or not Charon is one last night, and well… considering Belacaine hasn't seen Clarion all morning, chances are Gremory was right. That, or the Gamemaker-lady's decree that he killed himself is true. Or maybe even Clarion's the guy who put down the Nine mentor and this is all just an odd coincidence. But considering the other missing Tribute is the Nine girl, the pieces fit together too well for this reality to be anything but Gremory's truth. And that means she's in the company of a freak capable of and willing to commit murder at the flip of a hat.
Isn't that lovely?
"Aren't you also alarmed?" Lorian asks. "Look, Belacaine. I know that we've had our fun, if it could even be considered that, but the Games are still soon even if they're tomorrow instead of in a few hours. As is to be expected from anybody who's learned they're in the company of a murderer, I am, in fact, not feeling great."
"Are you ever feeling great?" Belacaine chuckles. "I get why you'd be nervous about Charon, but I honestly don't think we need to worry."
"Cool," the Two boy deadpans. "You have really reassured me. I feel all better now, thanks to you. You really have a way with words, Belacaine."
"I know I do." Long ago, she decided everything would be way funnier if she took Lorian's cringeworthy attempts at sarcasm seriously. It gives her a thrill, yes, but what really makes her want to laugh is the sort of miniature internal power trip Lorian seems to go on whenever somebody pays him an ounce of respect. "You said you were nervous about having to lead such a large alliance in the Games anyway. Now you have one less person to lead!"
"Do you really, genuinely think that I'm leading this alliance?" Lorian raises his brows.
No. No, Belacaine does not. In fact, she can hardly consider the six of them an alliance in the first place. Yes, they'll probably link up with one another at the start of the Games, but there's nothing about them that's cohesive. Maybe an alliance of Belacaine, Lorian, and Gremory would be workable. But along with the One boy comes Sapphira, and along with Sapphira come Talisa and Charon.
Besides, an alliance with just her and the boys would sort of be incredibly awful for different reasons. Lorian's become less of a pretentious bitch around Belacaine, but whenever he's with Gremory, it's like a stick comes out of nowhere and just flies straight up his ass. She doesn't understand why Lorian is so motivated to impress the One boy anyway. Is that like how he expresses his likely daddy issues or some shit? Because Belacaine would hate to see Gremory as a father. Regardless of what his rationale is, she doesn't like who Lorian is when he's with Gremory, and she would hate to be subjected to exclusively them.
(When they're alone, Lorian is at least a bit self-aware. When he's with Gremory, that all goes out the window. Lorian transforms into this wannabe poster child who thinks he's hot shit and capable of everything when really he's just another cog in Two's fucked-up feels too familiar, like Ronin with their father but somehow worse.)
"I mean, you're the one who's been saying you're the alliance's leader, so I'm just going with it," Belacaine says.
Lorian shakes his head. "Actually, I said that I'm not worthy of leading this alliance a few days ago and you and Gremory had to assure me that everything's fine and I'm a great leader or some shit. Truth be told, I'm not sure I believe that. Mainly because I'm not sure our alliance fully exists as something that can be led."
"And why's that?"
"Would you consider this mess of people who sort of feel like they have to protect one another but not really an alliance?" Lorian asks. "Because I don't. Really, if anyone's my ally in this mess, I'd say it's you."
"Me, and not Gremory?" Maybe she shouldn't be bringing the One boy up, but Belacaine can't help being incredibly curious.
"I mean, Gremory too," Lorian replies. "But like, he's busy with Sapphira and the other two a lot of the time. You've never spoken to them."
(She hasn't because they're all performers. Sapphira with her films, Talisa with her sword tricks, and Charon with their circus tricks — they're all fraudulent, all creatures filling some sort of role as they hide behind a mask, and Belacaine wants nothing to do with any of them.)
(Is it because she's actually the fake one herself?)
"And for some fucking reason, I do talk to you," she adds.
Belacaine's unsure why, too. It's not like Lorian's the last person standing and she's legally obliged to interact with him on a regular basis — it's actually the opposite. Yet, whenever she needs somebody to bother, Lorian's the first person who crosses Belacaine's mind.
(It used to be Ronin who she went to whenever she was in need of something. Whatever it was that was bothering her, Belacaine used to turn to her brother for support. And then, as the years went on, she'd be the one to do the bothering. And like Lorian, who could've screamed in Belacaine's face at any moment during these past few days, Ronin never minded.)
(But Lorian isn't Ronin. As much as he wants to fill the role of a gold-plated champion, Lorian will never be Ronin. It's unfair to expect that of him.)
"And I talk back," Lorian says. "Why? I have no idea, but I do talk to you, and I don't completely hate it."
"So are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
That the two of them should run away together? That their odds would be better if it were just them two fending for themselves in the arena, free from the drama that goes hand in hand with everybody else? That everything would be easier if they didn't have to worry about Gremory and his band of gremlins?
"How am I supposed to know what you're thinking?" Lorian frowns. "Do you think I'm like your twin or some shit?"
(For now she doesn't. That could always change.)
"What are you thinking," Belacaine asks.
Lorian takes a deep breath. "That we'd probably be way better off if we just dipped from the others?"
Belacaine nods. Finally, there's a tangible course of action she can take in the arena. The only answer is how she gets to it.
No, how they get to it.
Elio Basanti. 15.
District Ten Male.
Y'know, when Elio told his dad that he really wanted to go to a zoo someday, this wasn't quite what he meant.
He always dreamed that his first time in a zoo would be something out of the movies — that he'd get to be one with the animals, no longer having to worry about a diddly-darn thing besides which animal he should befriend first. In this zoo, though, Elio has lots to worry 'bout. Now, a diet of leaves and grain isn't abnormal to him, but there's something about how the Peacekeepers just throw food through the grate at Elio and all the other Tributes that doesn't feel quite right.
There's a lot of things about the Capitol that haven't felt right, from the way people prodded at him as he walked back to his room after his interview to the way all the lights in the sky make morning and night far too similar. This place is no Ten, it's no home, and this zoo is just another reason why.
(He knows he'll never see Ten again unless there's some sort of a miracle. Because yes, it'd take something insane for Elio to win, considering nothing will change the fact that he'd rather curl up into a ball and suffer than be responsible for another person's pain. At first, Elio was doing his best to enjoy the Capitol, to have one final hurrah at life and how fun it can be, but now joy feels almost impossible. Even with Dasani and all of the inside jokes they share, Elio doubts he'll ever feel as happy as he did when he was laying in the field with Luna-Moona.)
"Alright, gather around, Tributes," one of the Peacekeepers calls from beside the door where they all entered the zoo. "Like Clemensia and Lysistrata said earlier, you'll all be attending Androcles' funeral."
Elio's done his best to not think about the circumstances that led him here to the zoo, how one of his fellow Tributes killed a mentor and now everybody else has to suffer. Even if he can't get too mad about somebody else's actions leading to pain for everybody else after his whole ordeal at the parade, Elio can be upset that the rogue Tribute actually had the guts to kill somebody. Now, Elio recognizes that of the twenty-four, now twenty-two people he's crammed in this space with, some of them are bound to be capable of murder. He just thought they'd at least have the decency to wait a bit.
(That's his problem, isn't it? Elio always hopes for the best in people. When's it going to be too much? When's Elio going to place too much trust in the wrong person to the point that it backfires? His intuition says soon.)
"Please line up by me so that we can head there now," the officer continues. "If you try to make this difficult for me or my colleagues, know it won't end well."
That last part admittedly does make Elio want to run away, let his feet trudge through the ground so stinkin' fast that nobody can catch him no matter how hard they try. It wouldn't be worth it though. If there's one thing about this place, about being a Tribute, it's that there's no such thing as independence. You can yank and pull against the chains holding back as hard as you want, but you'll never truly be free.
"Well, I guess we better get going, bud." Dasani does his best to ruffle Elio's hair with his wrists bound together. Elio doesn't respond to him, instead just looking up into the Four boy's big brown eyes with a frown. "There, there, little dude. I know you're not looking forward to the funeral, but I promise it'll be over before you know it."
He shakes his head. No matter the funeral's actual duration, to Elio it'll feel like a million years. To him, there's no feeling that lasts as long as pain for another living creature's suffering.
"I don't want to go," Elio murmurs, hoping and praying the Peacekeepers don't hear him. "Androcles being dead is bad enough… I don't want to think about what's going to happen to the person who killed him."
He doesn't want to think about it 'cause deep down inside, Elio knows what's going to happen to her. He knows that they're going to kill her, as if she wouldn't die in the next couple of days anyway. He knows it's gonna be all morbid and cruel and he's gonna be forced to watch and he's not gonna like it and— AHHH!
Elio sighs. There's no point in putting it off. Judging by the way Moxie glares daggers at him and Ripley seems to plead at Dasani to take Elio to the doorway, he shouldn't put it off either. And so, with his head hanging as low as his spirits, Elio walks to the officer and lifts up his hands. He doesn't make a single noise as he's reattached to the big metal chain in between Dasani and Ripley.
Nobody says a word as they march over to the same amphitheater they were being interviewed in less than a day ago. Makes sense, too, 'cause what even would anybody say at this point? The Peacekeepers are right beside them; if anyone dares to say something that sounds too rebellious, Elio knows the men in white won't hesitate to start swinging.
Once they're in the amphitheater, they're led to the front row. Of course they're being forced to sit up front. Of course there's a flock of people with cameras oh-so-eager to catch their reactions to the inevitable horror.
As one of the Peacekeepers straps his ankles to the chair — as if he'd want to get up anyway — Elio sits back dejectedly. Even though Dasani's got his classic cheeky smile on his face, it's not enough to lift Elio's spirits the way it used to. Nothing but being back with the cow-cows would be enough to get Elio out of this rut.
He turns his head to Ripley who's staring into space despite Moxie's attempts to talk to her. Like Elio, the Five girl seems rather distraught, so he looks up at her and whispers, "You doing okay?"
"W-what do y-you think?" she immediately answers.
"That you're not okay," Elio deadpans. "I'm not either."
Ripley shakes her head. "E-everything about today. It's j-just all s-so scary…"
"It really is, huh?" Even if Elio's never been close with Ripley, or really anybody besides Dasani, it doesn't hurt to reach out a helping hand. He's her ally, isn't he?
Elio tries to sympathize with her. "Dasani was trying to comfort me, but everything he-slash-they said wasn't very helpful."
"Wait, what?" Ripley's brows furrow. "How d-did you just refer t-to him?"
"He-slash-they," Elio says. "Last night, 'Ani told me that he-slash-they uses two sets of pronouns. I've been trying to practice."
He feels a tap on his back so he turns his head to see Dasani grimacing at him. "That's not how it works, broski."
"Then how does it work?"
Dasani gives Ripley a glance that Elio doesn't quite understand. "You'll get it eventually. Just… don't worry about it."
That's the thing though, Elio will worry about it. Dasani's all that he's got 'round here. That means Elio wants to make him-slash-them as happy and comfortable as possible.
Before Elio can tell Dasani that he wants to learn, he really does want to learn, 'cause despite what the kids say at school say, despite what his dad says, Elio's not stupid — he's not! — a booming male voice resounds through the air.
"Tributes and citizens, thank you so much for joining me here today!"
Elio looks up and quickly recognizes the man speaking as President Aaron Ravenstill. While he may not know much about the Capitol's government and how it works and whatnot, Elio does know what Panem's President looks like. He's seen him on television a few times, and most of the streets here in the Capitol have banners with his face on them. It'd be impossible for Elio to not recognize President Ravenstill after seeing so much of him these past few days. "I wish that we could all gather in more pleasant circumstances, but that is not the case. After an unprecedented turn of events last night, Androcles Anderson, beloved mentor to District Nine, is no longer with us. "
"Was he really beloved if somebody killed him?" Dasani mutters under his breath.
Elio elbows him in the side and whispers, "Do you want to get in trouble? Shh!"
"Sorry," Dasani replies.
"Unfortunately, our dearest Androcles was killed last night by one of this year's Tributes." The audience boos in response to the President, which makes a nervous bug start swimming in Elio's stomach. He understands why they'd be upset - they did lose somebody important to them but do they think the person who killed Androcles is just casually sitting in the crowd?
Ravenstill walks over to the ornately decorated coffin and rests his forehead on the lid. "Requiescat in Pace."
All the Capitolites in the crowd repeat the President's phrase as if they somehow understand whatever language it is that he's speaking. Elio just nods politely 'cause he's not sure what it means - and if it's a bad thing, he doesn't want to say it.
"Violence of this caliber before the commencement of the Games is completely and utterly unacceptable," Ravenstill says. "As unfortunate as Androcles' death is for us - and for the future of our country - I am pleased to announce that we have the person who senselessly maimed him in our custody." Elio clenches his jaw and furrows his brows, ducking his head to avoid the cameras at all costs — they don't need to see him like this. "I'd like to present the perpetrator of this heinous attack to everyone now.
"Will Helen Rimmonn please be escorted onto the stage."
Elio's a bit shocked to see the Nine girl led out in chains with a muzzle over her mouth. Even though he never interacted with her, Elio caught a few glimpses of her in training, and she seemed so harmless. She didn't seem like the sort of person who'd just randomly kill somebody, but at the same time, Elio doesn't know her. The more he thinks about it, Elio hardly knows anybody here but himself.
(And who is that besides a fool? Who is Elio Basanti besides a useless, weak weirdo that never stood a chance? Who is he besides a coward running on borrowed time, destined to die the minute the clock strikes zero tomorrow? Who is he to try and be anything else?)
Though Helen's shaking a whole bunch, the Peacekeepers don't seem to give a diddly-darn about her. They see Helen as even more of an animal than they did everybody in the zoo. And they don't respect animals the same way Elio does, so really, all they see in Helen is worthlessness.
The President steps aside as three of the Peacekeepers raise their guns. Elio squeezes his hands until his knuckles are white and closes his eyes so tight the skin on the side of his face sort of stings. Even though he only sees black, Elio hears the sound of bullets firing from the officer's guns, one by one going brrr! brrr! brrr! and clank! clank! clank! It lasts for what seems like a gazillion hours, just bullet after bullet, again and again.
Once it stops, Elio hears the audience cheer - and it disgusts him. No matter what Helen did, she didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve for Elio to open his eyes and shriek at her mangled corpse on the ground, holes from the bullets all over her body and a bright red pool of blood underneath her. She didn't deserve for the Peacekeepers to lift her up by the arms, displaying her twisted figure for the whole world to see before tying her to the flag-post like she's a doll.
Elio closes his eyes again. He doesn't need to see this. He doesn't need to see Helen and be reminded of when he was only seven years old. He doesn't need to remember the day his father took him to the barnyard to teach Elio a lesson.
(He's terrified. His fingers are locked around the gun's trigger, palms sweating as he looks at Selena.
The poor cow-cow doesn't know what's going to happen to her. She doesn't know what Elio's gonna do and how it's going to ruin her. Her poor calf, Luna-Moona, is going to spend the rest of her life not knowing where her mother went and never came back from.
"Do it, Elio," his father commands, and that just makes him more nervous.
He doesn't want to do this. Elio can't do this, won't do this, refuses to do this even though he doesn't have a choice. He can't! He can't! HE CAN'T! He won't! He won't! HE WON'T!
But he's not allowed to refuse. Elio isn't allowed 'cause his father's looking at him all scary and saying, "You eat cows for dinner. How is this any different?"
"It's n-not," Elio stutters, tears in his eyes.
He looks at Selena one last time, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He doesn't want to do this — he can't do this. But he has to. He has to or else his father won't love him, won't see him as useful or as a son worth having. He needs to be strong, can't be a failure. He can't, can't, CAN'T!
Elio squeezes the trigger, his body shaking as the bullet fires. Selena shrieks.
When he opens his eyes, the cow-cow's collapsed to the ground, the bullet — Elio's bullet — wedged between her eyes as she wheezes and bleeds onto the floor.
"Is she comfortable?" Elio asks his dad, 'cause if Selena has to die, he'd prefer it be quick. He's never wanted to cause any pain, never wanted to hurt her but he had to and because he had to he did and now he's filled with hate hate HATE and he's not sure what for, he just knows he's mad at himself and his dad and the gun and all the blood and himself so much, he's so mad. So mad and it's all his fault 'cause he didn't need to listen to his dad, should've just taken Selena and ran away from him. Why didn't he? Why why WHY didn't he?
His dad takes the gun and shoots at Selena before Elio can stop him. "She's comfortable now."
Elio sure isn't. He wishes it was him — not Selena but him, yes him — in front of the gun so he wouldn't have to see the misery he caused 'cause he's a coward.
He swears then and there, he'll never eat meat again. He swears then and there, Luna-Moona will be his best friend and he'll never let this happen to her. Never ever ever.)
"You okay?" Dasani nudges Elio's shoulder.
"No," he responds, tears in his eyes. "I'm n-not…"
He inhales, hoping the mucus in his nose and bile in his throat will settle down - exhales, and watches as he makes a mess on his shirt. Elio doesn't care though. He can't find it in himself to care.
All he'll ever be is a failure. Why does it matter if he breaks now or tomorrow? Soon enough he'll be just like Helen, just like Selena and Luna-Moona. If people suffer and he can't stop it, maybe Elio deserves to suffer too.
Sapphira Starlett. 17.
District One Female.
She wasn't expecting to return to the amphitheater so soon. Yes, Sapphira did tell Lucky she hoped to be back someday, but she meant on stage as a victor, not in the audience watching a funeral and execution — which really is an odd combination of events, by the way.
As the whole ordeal happened, all Sapphira could do was squint and pretend she was watching one of the horror movies she'd view back home. (Secretly, of course, because her parents used to say they were too grotesque for her "innocent young eyes.") Even though horror's never been her favorite genre, it did somehow prepare her to watch the Nine girl get gunned down in front of her eyes. Sapphira's seen worse on screen; she's seen eyes rolling on the ground and severed heads used for ventriloquism. In comparison, the bloodshed from Helen did little to faze her. And so, Sapphira watched with a blank expression, not daring to show any vivid emotion when the cameras zoomed up close to her face.
She also wondered, what did Helen think when she was up there? Was she grateful to be put out of her misery since she never wanted to be here in the first place? Or was she upset that she spent her last moments alive being publicly ridiculed by the entire nation.
(The Nine girl should've expected to die dramatically when she killed her mentor the same way, should have been excited to do so even. Sapphira can only hope that when her time does come, whether that be in a few days or a few decades, it's just as theatrical, just as much of a spectacle.)
(If nobody remembers her when she's alive, the best Sapphira can ask for is a death that turns her immortal.)
After her mess of an interview, it's of utmost importance that Sapphira's on her best behavior. No matter how out of reach the stars may seem, there's always a chance she can build herself a ladder so she gets closer to them. During last night's venture in stardust, a little voice told her that she could do it if she really put her mind to it.
("Are you sure this is what you want?" the voice beckoned Sapphira, her head rested against the seat of a toilet as she sat on the floor. "You'll get it, Sapphira. You'll get it and more if it's what you really want."
"Of course this is what I want," she replied in between bouts of hurling. "Stardom is all I've wanted my entire life."
"Then prove it so and you'll get it.")
So she has to bring her A-game. She can't let herself slip away so easily, can't be so ridiculous and full of herself until there's a crown on her head because clearly that's not what the Capitol wants to see. As much as they want a show, one led by a fool is unacceptable. Leave that role to somebody else; Sapphira Starlett is done humiliating herself.
(But that's the reason Sapphira's here, isn't it? Isn't she only here because the people in One saw her as disposable, a laughing stock that they wouldn't mind losing because she never meant anything to anybody anyway? They saw her campaign as a suicide wish, the first desire of hers they were willing to fulfill because if Sapphira was gone, nobody would ever be plagued by her constant begging for more and more and more.)
As she walks back to the zoo, Sapphira holds her head high. While the majority of the other Tributes seem upset to be returning, she refuses to be the same. She needs to stand out, but this time for all the right reasons. Even if the zoo is ultimately just a cage, she can make it golden in her mind. If she scatters stars across the ground and wonder in the air, it won't be a prison anymore - this ordeal will become a final dress-rehearsal for the show she'll give come tomorrow.
She squishes between Talisa and Charon, the three of them's faces pressed between the bars as they await whatever fancy-folk will be meeting and greeting them. It's sort of weird that it's just the three of them and no Clarion. Sapphira just knows he would've loved an opportunity to meet with Capitolites personally after he absolutely dazzled at his interview. But the Three boy isn't here and Sapphira will never see him again, all because he made the sort of choice she never would've fathomed.
(Because Clarion was always so happy. Happy people aren't supposed to take their own lives.)
(Then again, don't most people think Sapphira's happy too?)
"I really miss him, you know," she says, eyes pointed at Charon. "How are you dealing with the loss?"
The Tribute from Eight blinks, like she's trying to make herself cry but it isn't working. "I don't know what to think."
"Why's that?" Talisa asks. "You guys had a thing going on, didn't you?"
"We did, yes." Charon nods. "But I knew it'd never last. There's no way a romantic relationship could last in a place like this. I just… didn't think the end would be so soon."
"Understandable," the Four girl says with a smile. She raises herself onto the tips of her toes and kisses her on the cheek. "I think we'll work out, Sapphira. Don't let what Charon's saying worry you."
She wasn't planning on it. As charming as Talisa is, there's something about her that makes Sapphira nervous. It's different than what she felt in One when the girls told her they liked her makeup and outfits or pulled her underneath their covers after a long night at the bar. At first, Sapphira thought she just wasn't used to attention from somebody more subdued. She thought that Talisa would be the sort of girl Sapphira has to grow into liking.
She's not so sure now. Maybe it's the fact that Gremory brought the two of them together; the last time he introduced a girl to Sapphira, it very much didn't end well. Or perhaps it's just the nature of the Games telling her that she can't get attached to someone if she wants to win.
What Sapphira can do, though, is fake it. She can convince Talisa that she likes her just as much, give the audience a love story worth investing in. Even though it'll end with somebody dead and somebody else crying, Sapphira can put that aside for now. So much of her life's been spent living in daydreams for the future; it's time for her to take a break from that and focus on the now.
"I'm not worried," Sapphira replies to Talisa. "We're just playing things by ear. There's nothing wrong with that."
"I wasn't trying to make Sapphira nervous," Charon snaps, her voice slightly scathing. "What I said had nothing to do with either of you and whatever you have going on."
(What they have isn't much. Last night, Talisa knocked on the One apartment's doors with promises of a night of passion. Sapphira never answered. She couldn't get herself off the floor despite all her best efforts.)
"I know you weren't!" Sapphira smiles at Charon. "Again, I'm so sorry."
They mumble, "I wish I could've done something to save him," but Sapphira decides it's best if she doesn't respond.
(Selfishly, part of her is happy Charon no longer has a distraction. When Sapphira brought her into the alliance, it was under the presumption they'd be spending loads of time together. But then Clarion fell head-over-heels for Charon, leaving Sapphira alone (at least, until Talisa appeared). With Clarion gone, she hopes that now things will change and she'll be able to talk to Charon more, even if it means Talisa trailing along for a while.)
Her hands sweat as she awaits the arrival of the first group of Capitolites. She can't mess up again, can't make them hate her more than they probably do after her interview. Even though Sapphira can't find him now, Gremory's words still ring in her head.
"Now why did you go and make a fool out of yourself on stage?"
"You gave Lucky so many meaningless compliments, he probably thought you wanted to blow him after all this is over!"
"Do you really think anybody cares about your minor roles in films and movies?"
"I saw at least a dozen people asleep."
As a husband and wife draped in silver and emerald saunter toward Sapphira, she lets what Gremory said rest heavy on her shoulders. It's not because they're holding her back, though. Rather, she's taking their weight and allowing it to help her grow.
The pair of Capitolites hardly bats an eye at Talisa, instead moving right onto Sapphira. Her stomach sinks as the man smirks, then says, "You're Sapphira Starlett, aren't you?"
His tone is so admiring, it makes Sapphira want to swoon. She feels her cheeks getting warmer and warmer, butterflies making figure-eights inside her heart as she does her best to curtsy despite her hands being cuffed. But this glee can't consume Sapphira and render her useless. She refuses to let it.
"Yes, that's me. I'm Sapphira," she says in a monotone. "It's nice to meet you both."
"She's a lot more shy than I was expecting," the lady Capitolite whispers. Sapphira tries her best to pretend she didn't hear that — likely, she wasn't supposed to. Instead, she stands tall and proud as the lady addresses her directly. "How have you been, dear?"
"I'm making the best of things," Sapphira lies. "How have you been?"
"This isn't about us!" the man insists. "Sapphira, we want to know about you. Ever since your interview, you're all we've been able to talk about."
"I hope you've said good things, then."
Sapphira twitches and takes a short breath. All they've been able to talk about is her? What do these people mean? Surely they've been making fun of her. There's no reason they wouldn't be, right? Gremory said that Sapphira's interview was abhorrent — chances are, he's right. Sapphira was being biased when she said she felt the opposite. Yet again, she was being fucking delusional.
"Only the best things," the lady says. "All of our friends too — they're smitten with you!"
"They are?" Sapphira's jaw drops. "Truth be told, I thought my interview went poorly."
"Now why would you think that?" The Capitolite man's brows furrow. "You were easily our favorite of the night."
Charon elbows Sapphira in the stomach. "See? I told you that you did a great job!"
"Oh, well, hello there, Charon," the man drawls. "We also enjoyed seeing you."
"Why thank you!" She bows, then chuckles.
Sapphira mumbles at the ground, "I did think I did well. It was just—"
"Pardon?" the Capitolite lady interrupts. "Were you trying to say something to us?"
"It's nothing." Sapphira nods. "I just… I really appreciate your compliments about my interview. I had a lot of fun talking to Mister Flickerman, so I'm glad some people had fun too."
"Not just some people," the man reminds her. "Almost everybody."
Is that really true? Did people actually like her? Life's got to be playing some cruel joke on her right now — that's the only explanation. If she's not delusional, maybe everybody else is. That wasn't a good interview. Gremory said it wasn't a good interview.
Unless…
No, it can't be. Why would he?
Unless Gremory lied..
He wouldn't do that. Why would you think he did that to you? He's your friend, Sapphira. Remember?
(But friends don't do what Gremory did. Friends don't give you drug after drug until your mind is numb and you're not sure what to make of it. Friends don't encourage you to kill your neglectful parents if you "really want them to pay attention" then throw a temper tantrum when you refuse. Friends don't introduce you to a wolf in sheep's clothing and let you fall in love with her, knowing the whole time that you'll get hurt in the end.)
(Friends don't do any of that. Gremory Rossmani isn't a friend.)
"All I can say at this point is thank you," Sapphira tells the couple. They'll never know the extent she truly means those words.
She's back in the game now - though really, she never left. Gremory, on the other hand? He could stand to be knocked down a peg. Or several.
Ripley Sabyn. 17.
District Five Tribute.
There's something ironic about being here, and not in a good way. All their life, Ripley's tried to be as inconspicuous as possible - yet here she is, standing behind metal bars and being constantly watched.
The people who stare at Ripley as they walk along the zoo's perimeter are strangely familiar. Though she has little experience with Capitolites, a fair few of them remind her of some of the more affluent people in Five who'd visit her mothers. Consequently, they're living ghosts of people her mothers ripped off — each of them making her think of a time when she should have done something.
It certainly doesn't help that they're shaking despite every effort to calm themself. Normally, when they're nervous, Ripley has the benefit of being able to hide behind their voluminous curls, but now they don't even have their hair to protect them. As she stands and is watched like… well, an animal in a zoo, all Ripley Sabyn has is herself.
Er… she has herself and also Moxie, who's standing to her left. It's wildly impressive just how confident the Six girl is as she answers the Capitolites' questions. Ripley simply will never understand just how she does it. Sure, they recognize that they're far more anxious than the average person, but even if Ripley was able to talk to strangers without twitching, they'd pale in comparison to Moxie.
"Please, you flatter me," the Six girl says to a man dressed in blue and silver. "If I'm impressive, you're monumental. Casinos are a very hard business to get into — I admire your commitment."
"Well, I admire your humbleness," the Capitolite replies. "I wish you the best of luck in there tomorrow."
Ripley wants to say something. They want to make their presence known, establish themself as a viable contender instead of a nervous wreck. Yet when she opens her mouth, no words come out; she looks like she's trying to eat the air.
They nudge Moxie in the stomach. Immediately, the Six girl diverts her attention to Ripley and bats her eyes, "Is there something you wanted to tell this lovely man, Rips?"
Ripley trembles. There's so much that she wants to say — how she's got the medical skills of a doctor, how she's one of the people who least deserves to be here because it was their mothers who were criminals, not them. They want to prove that they have something of a chance to do well in the arena, that they're not the hopeless case everybody thinks they are after her interview.
("So Miss Sabyn," Lucky Flickerman says, sticking the microphone so close to Ripley's face that it startles her. "What's life like in District Five?
"I-it's good," Ripley stammers. "I like it e-enough."
"That's good to hear," Lucky replies. "What would you say your favorite part is?"
"My m-mothers," they say.
Immediately, Ripley's unsure why she answered with that. As much as she loves her mothers, they're the reason why she's here; as much as her mothers love her, they're the ones who ultimately led to her demise.
"Two mothers?" Lucky asks. Immediately, Ripley nods, their head bobbing up and down like an apple in a bucket of water. "What are they like?"
Ripley takes a deep breath — how do they even explain her mothers to somebody who doesn't know either of them? "They… the-they're doctors."
"Very interesting," Lucky remarks, but Ripley's sure that he doesn't actually think her mothers are interesting. "What kind of doctors are they?"
Ones that lie, Ripley ponders. Or at least, they intended to merely think that, not say it out loud. Yet she did, and now Lucky's giving her this odd stare.
"What do they lie about?" he asks.
Ripley doesn't know how to answer that. She also doesn't want to think about how she'd answer that question because what if she accidentally talks instead of thinking again? So, as tears begin to roll down her cheeks, Ripley stays silent, even though the answer is simple.
Her mothers lied about everything.)
Can anything be more awful than her interview, though? As much as Ripley'd like to believe that was their lowest point, they're incredibly gifted in failing to meet their own meager expectations. It's only a matter of time before they fail again.
"H-hello, sir," Ripley addresses that Capitolite man. "I… I'm R-Ripley Sabyn."
The man smirks. "It's nice to meet you ma'am. How are you enjoying the Capitol?"
"E-enough," they say flatly. "I-it's good."
"Ripley loves it," Moxie adds. "I'd know, since the two of us have been allied since the first day of training."
"Is that so?" the Capitolite asks and Ripley tries to force a smile.
Moxie continues, "Sure is! And besides the two of us, there's four others. I'd say we make quite the formidable team."
"I remember hearing about your alliance during your interview." Just like that, Ripley's ignored once more. Why she thought she deserved the attention is beyond her. They'll never be as confident, poised, and easy to talk to as Moxie.
"Who is your favorite, Moxie? I assume it's Ripley being as she's standing beside you."
"You know I can't answer that," Moxie answers with a chuckle. "I enjoy working with all my allies equally."
Is it wrong that Ripley was hoping, expecting even, for Moxie to say that yes, they are her favorite? After all, the Six girl seems to spend more time with them than with the others. Moxie wouldn't do that if she didn't like Ripley to some degree.
Or maybe Moxie doesn't care about them. Maybe she only allied with them out of pity and she's going to abandon or dispose of them as soon as she gets the chance. Why would Ripley ever think that somebody with the dignity and composure of a Capitolite even gives a damn about her to begin with? If Moxie betrays her, Ripley understands. Worse, they'd probably do the same if they were in her shoes.
"A logical response, Miss Adegoke," the Capitolite says. "Consider me a fan of yours."
Before Moxie can continue speaking to him, the man walks away and waves. Once he's out of her field of vision, the Six girl huffs. "He's so big of a fan he didn't even say goodbye to me, yet somehow I'm the animal."
"What?" Ripley chirps.
Moxie's eyes widen. "Oh, did you hear that?"
Ripley gets the feeling that they weren't supposed to. "H-hear what?"
"Nothing," Moxie says. "I was just muttering something under my breath."
"I underst-stand," Ripley replies. "I also s-sometimes t-talk under m-my breath."
Why the hell did they say that? Everybody talks under their breath. Good lord, Moxie probably thinks she's ridiculous. That's why they're not her favorite ally, for fuck's sake. They're too useless.
"And you talk out loud sometimes too," Moxie reminds them - not that Ripley needed a reminder that they're capable of speaking. Still, it's nice to hear anything vaguely positive about herself from Moxie's mouth. "You said a lot to that man right now!"
I did? I didn't think I said more than a few sentences, and I was so terribly awkward during all of them.
"Why are you staring at me?" Moxie tilts her head to the side. "You were so confident and brave when you were talking to him. It was incredible!"
"It was?"
They can't help but wonder if Moxie's lying to them. Ripley's positive that she did just as awful of a job talking to the Capitolite man as she did during her interview. Even Moxie admitted that their interview didn't go too well.
Ripley sighs. It's wrong for them to think this. Why would Moxie take them under her wing and help her train if she had bad intentions?
(Is it because Moxie sees the same thing in Ripley that their mothers do, somebody easy to manipulate into taking all the blame when things go wrong?)
"Ripley, you have to believe me!" Moxie insists. "You did an incredible job talking to that man, and I'm sure he's a huge fan of yours because of it."
"G-good," Ripley says. "Thank y-you for saying that."
"I'm just telling the truth," Moxie responds.
After a brief pause, the Six girl again mutters under her breath, "I mean, it's pretty hard to fuck up worse than the instance where she cried about her parents on national television. Damn ridiculous."
Ripley's stomach drops. She knows she wasn't supposed to hear that, but she wonders what exactly Moxie meant. Was she making fun of them or just stating an objective truth?
"I see you guys are playing the field well," a familiar voice says from behind. "That's exactly the sort of shit I love to see."
"D-Dasani?" Ripley turns around to face the Four boy. "W-what are you doing h-here?"
"Can't I talk to my own allies?" he asks with a laugh.
"Of course you can talk to us," Moxie replies, turning as well. "It's good to see you, Dasani. How are the others?"
"The people are just eating Elio up," Dasani says. "And not in a bad way, mind you. He's been making animal noises as if this is a real zoo and they just think he's hilarious."
"That's incredible," Moxie remarks. "Edric and Asherah?"
"People seem to like Edric too," Dasani answers. "Asherah they're a bit wary of, but Edric's been doing his best to include her."
"Glad we're all doing well, then." Moxie smirks. "Well, at least most of us are. You don't seem very busy interacting with potential sponsors the way you said you would."
"I'm just taking a rest break," Dasani replies. "I think overall, this whole meeting and greeting thing has been great for our alliance."
"I a-agree," Ripley says. She hasn't said something in a while, and that's sort of weird, so Dasani probably thinks she's sort of weird.
"How are you doing, Ripley?" Dasani asks. "Still sticking with Moxie?"
They nod.
"Solid." Dasani flashes her a thumbs up and grins. "She's a real one."
"She is…"
(Or is Moxie just pretending?)
"Ripley's a real one too," the Six girl says, making Ripley's cheeks go red. "Tomorrow, we've just got to keep our eyes on the prize and we'll be golden."
Dasani nods. "I agree, Moxster! It's going to be—"
"Please don't call me that," Moxie cuts him off. "Would you like it if I called you Kiki?"
"I wouldn't care, actually," the Four boy deadpans.
"Noted."
Everything about the way Moxie and Dasani interact seems so natural, not forced like when Ripley talks to her. Are they holding Moxie back? She's definitely beginning to think so.
"Alright, I'll catch you on the flip side, pretty boy," Moxie says, doing her best to wave at Dasani as they run back to Elio.
Dasani rolls his eyes at her. "Fuck off!"
"I will once you admit you like being called that."
When Moxie returns her gaze to Ripley, they can't help but notice she looks disappointed. They understand. Compared to Dasani, Ripley's rather boring.
So why is it that they even bother? Why is it that Ripley thinks she deserves companionship from one of the Games' early frontrunners?
Is it because, just as her parents lied to all of their patients, Ripley Sabyn is lying to herself?
Right Now - Korn
Isn't the zoo so much fun guys? Aren't we all having so much fun?
(The answer is no but I am writing so good ["well -goldie"] so stay mad.)
Thank you to Goldie for beta-ing this misery and only somewhat dragging my ass in the process. Also, I know two kids are dead as fuck right now, but I'm not like writing their placements at the bottom of the chapter until the Bloodbath so fugly sluts who scroll down to the bottom of the chapter during pre-Games or something don't get to know my little secrets. Or actually they know now if they're reading this A/N. RIP Clarion and Helen is still being included in the Bloodbath chapter.
As much as I'd love to be consistent again and update next week, it's currently midterms season asf for me so I won't have time to write this week. But, I'll certainly see all you sexy motherfuckers in two weeks.
There's two questions this week because I forgot last week until I'd already published the chappie and I was too lazy to edit it.
Q1: What's the weirdest thing you've done alone in the middle of the night?
Q2: How many tootsie rolls do you think would fit in the zoo?
Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds