The sun is just beginning to rise by the time the three of them depart from their household.
Elowen and Monroe had spent the better part of an hour fumbling through their closet, the idea of planning ahead completely lost to them in the previous night's events. In the end, they wound up with matching sundresses, Elowen's pale green and her sister's a pale tan. She didn't think it was much, but it was good enough to be considered "dressing-up" for the occasion.
Clem was uncharacteristically lethargic when they had found him in the kitchen. It was quite a difference between his normal peppy attitude, but he still feigned happiness, and Elowen could appreciate the attempt. So she played along with whatever he said, and pretended she didn't notice the stress in his eyes. In some ways, he looked like he had seen a ghost and was still reeling from witnessing the impossible.
Elowen tried to pay it no mind. She instead tries to focus on watching her feet as the three of them follow their neighbors towards the train station, cautiously placing each step on the cobblestone pathways, the world barely illuminated by the dawn. It was difficult to see, but she trusted her father and Monroe knew where they were going, so she blindly trailed their heels whilst trying to keep close.
District Seven's Reapings always occurred in a southern village that could be more accurately described as a quaint town. It was about the closest thing their District could get to its own "capitol", as it was where practically everything was at: the Justice Building, the Mayor's home, and it was closely connected to Victor's Village just a mile away.
Living in the north, Elowen and her family always had to take the train down there, as did most of the District, especially to a required event such as the Reaping. Traveling by foot just wasn't practical, too much wide open woods and few civilizations. It would be terribly easy to wander away one day and never find your way back if you weren't careful enough. Monroe's after-school adventures always freaked Elowen out, but she trusted her sister had the navigation skills to return. Monroe had yet to disprove this.
Eventually, they leave the neighborhood and walk down the path leading to the station, tall oaks lining the way. Monroe strides with purpose. To get to work everyday, she takes that one train that ever comes around their village, so this isn't anything new to her. The rising sun beats down on the back of their necks, chasing away the morning breeze and leaving the atmosphere thick with the weight of so many bodies in one area. It was only going to get worse on the train, then in the square with thousands of people. She felt lightheaded thinking about it already.
Slowly, all the people begin to trickle onto the train. Elowen can see their silhouettes shifting behind the dusty windows, clambering for seats before they're all occupied. The closer she gets to the monstrous thing, the more it intimidates her. It rumbles menacingly, and she can sense it was just waiting to spring and start moving at any point. This wasn't her first time riding a train, but she had always felt that way about it. There was something oddly human about the way it moved without any visible input like some sort of animal, it was disturbing. She waits her turn in line to board.
The reaping is the same thing every year. They get thousands of teenagers and kids jammed into a clearing and send two of them off to their deaths. The whole ordeal only takes half an hour, and the three other times Elowen had been through this had gone by in a flash, but the Games haunt the entire District for the next few weeks. She remembers being seven years old and watching the year when the arena was a hellscape and most burned to death, rather than in combat or from the elements. Thinking back on those Games made her appreciate the breeze right now, as light as it was.
The line creeps closer, then closer and closer until they're boarding the train. They don't say a word as they begin clambering around the mass of bodies, the cars far too small to occupy so many people. To keep together with her family, Elowen wraps her hand around Monroe's wrist and allows herself to be guided to the back of the train, where by the grace of a divine force, they find three open seats, the cushions smudged and torn open in patches.
Elowen winds up squashed between her sister and her father. She drums her fingers against her legs.
More people pass by, some faces familiar, such as the kids her age; but others were completely lost to her. What she can guarantee though, is that all of her neighbors with at least one eligible child would be of attendance. You were punished if the Peacekeepers caught you anywhere else.
The train begins to move with a jolt. Elowen grabs the seat to stay steady with the sudden motion. It picks up speed, and gradually the trees outside the window shift to a blur of green. Around the sea of people, she watches the scenery, catching peeks of little monuments: snippets of life across the District: houses, overgrown statues, all the like— before they're swept away towards the smudgy horizon.
Pressed between her family, she casts her father a glance from the corner of her eye. On a normal year, Clem would be smiling despite the circumstances. He would lean over and crack jokes targeted against the Capitol into their ears, and they would giggle and feel lighter about the situation. It was so much easier to push through when the main influence in your life wasn't as solemn as everybody else was; but now, the reality bore rested heavily and poised over her head without that buffer.
Monroe taps her, practically hauling her out of her thoughts. "Hey, look what I brought."
Elowen looks towards her sister. Monroe is brandishing several strings, thin and multicolored with individual blues and yellows and pinks. "I just thought the train ride would be long," she explains, then shrugs, "Just a way to pass the time."
Elowen graciously takes the offered strings, laying them across the palm of her hand. "Thank you."
The two of them fall into silence as they begin weaving their own individual bracelets, twirling the ends around their fingers. It was an old shared hobby of theirs, something they had picked up much earlier than Elowen can even remember. Many little bits of jewelry were crafted over the years, most of which ended up lost in their carelessness anyways, but it meant a great to her to create and share something with her sister. It was personal.
In, out, around. In, out, around— a particularly rough bump of the train that sends her fumbling for the ends of the strings, but she collects them and continues on. Eventually Elowen's satisfied with her work, gaging just by looking at it that it was probably her size, and tying off the end. There's still some excess string protruding out of the knot, but she figures she'll just snip it down with a pair of scissors when she has the next chance. She shuffles the bracelet onto her wrist and twirls it around, running her finger down the braid.
Monroe holds out her arm, adorned with her own bracelet and the two compare theirs. They had the same colors, but they had chosen different methods of weaving those colors together, and the comparison makes Elowen smile.
"We're matching," Monroe says.
The train ride only takes a few minutes longer, with most of the time sunk into their craft unknowingly. It seemed Elowen had blinked and suddenly the town was nearing into view, the buildings far taller then she was used to being around with their single-story homes. Gradually, the train slows to a halt just as jerking as the takeoff, and everybody stands and begins to trudge towards the exit. They leave in the same manner as they had entered, with Elowen grabbing desperately onto Monroe to avoid being tossed into the sea of humans, then the train spits them out onto the trampled grass outside the station.
Already there's Peacekeepers directing them around, waving batons in their faces to deter anybody from running off. They make her a little nervous, but she thinks back to her first reaping when her father reassured her that if she did what she did what she was supposed to do, she would be fine. It still holds true to this day. All of the incidents were initiated by a rule breaker.
As the crowd shuffles along, they're wrangled into more lines, people from all over the District intermingling. She can tell the people who came from upper-class homes from the lower just based on the state of their clothes. For Elowen herself, she was always on the better side of things. With her sister bringing home good money from the papermill alongside their father's well-paying job, Elowen had the option to deviate from their industry, which she gratefully did in a heartbeat. She wouldn't trade that for the world.
When it nears their turn in check in, Clem wrangles both of his daughters in, giving them both tight hugs. "You two stay safe now, okay?" He says, squeezing them against him. Elowen is stifled with the weight against her spine. "I love you two very much, I hope you know that."
Then he releases them, still holding onto their shoulders with a hand each. As they echo "I love you too"s, he studies both of their faces while smiling reminiscently. Then, following a kiss to both of their foreheads, he follows the other citizens towards the edge of the square and slips into the crowd.
Before they know it, the sisters are being waved towards the check-in tables, where people in white are pricking fingers. Not in a rush to hold up the line, when it reaches her turn Elowen scrambles up to the table, finds her name, and holds out her hand. The person takes it roughly with their gloves and jabs the needle into the pad of her index finger, drawing blood and pressing the wound against the page. She winces, and upon being released, shakes her hand to rid of the sharp pinch.
She looks over to Monroe, who had just finished hers, and they cast each other a final look before being swept off to their own areas. Elowen falls into the crowd of the other sixteen-year-old females, holding her index finger in her mouth, the metallic taste startling but minimal on her tongue.
After a few minutes of stewing in the heat, she snaps her head to the makeshift stage framing the Justice Building, where microphone feedback rings around the clearing. Mayor Wolf stands tall in front of the entire District, grasping the legs of the microphone stand with both hands. It was so baffling to her that this same man was standing in her kitchen and smiling at her just yesterday, the same man who is now giving a speech to thousands of people and to many more behind the cameras. She narrows her eyes to see him better.
Wolf is reciting the same lecture verbatim as he did annually, rambling on about the Dark Days and the two rebellions, both of which were defeated and stomped back into obedience. Elowen wonders if he wrote this himself or not, but either way he was giving it his everything.
As people squirm and crush her, most of whom she stood at least an inch or two taller than, she props herself up onto her toes and looks out atop the crowds' heads, across the divide to hopefully catch a peek at where her sister wound up.
Instead, she spots a different face, and nearly stumbles forwards in surprise. Ivo stands in the eighteen-year-old crowd, identifiable by his short-cropped hair and casual unbothered stance. Seeing his face knocks a thought back into Elowen's brain. In their mess with their father and his enigmatic attitude, both she and Monroe had forgotten (or rather, ignored) about her boyfriend troubles. It seemed silly to Elowen, especially with major death lurking right over everybody's backs, but she hopes Monroe didn't forget about the ordeal anyways. If they didn't have the power to fix whatever troubles Clem was facing, then they should stick to their own problems they did have control of. If only Monroe still had the confidence to confront him.
Elowen breaks her stare from Ivo and attempts to scout out her sister again, only to be cut short by the concluding speech.
Wolf passes the stage off to District Seven's escort Mellonia Vulpes. Promoted following the Century Games, this was her fourth year with District Seven, and Elowen was always fascinated by her fashion sense that differed so greatly from what she was used to. This year, the escort is going for a sky theme, her outfit blue and her skirt puffing out in ways that resembled clouds. It was almost mesmerizing, but her insolent voice jerks Elowen back into reality.
"Welcome to the Hundred and Fourth Annual Hunger Games!" Mellonia announces, flourishing her arms around. When the crowd doesn't match her energy, she just shrugs and continues on, like she would really rather be anywhere else. She says something about what an honor it was to be here today for such an important event, but her words hissed through lying teeth enter Elowen's ear and fall out the other. She was more intent on those glistening glass bowls of names.
Mellonia doesn't waste anymore time before striding over to the males' side of the stage, sticking her manicured hand into the corresponding bowl and plucking out a slip. Unfurling it, she shuffles back over to the microphone and declares a name.
"Linden Hymes!"
Slow murmuring ripples around the gathered teenagers as a blonde boy is moved through the crowd which parts like water as they send him forward. Once Linden scrambles onto stage, it's easier to see him. He holds his expression neutral, if not a little disturbed. He was probably around eighteen. Clearly, he's made of muscle, built solid and wide but he lacks a little bit in height. He seems as if he could easily have a good shot at the Games, should he play his cards right.
Mellonia smiles at him, in which he just returns with that blank, unphased look. He shuffles to his spot on the stage while Mellonia composes herself to continue the event.
Readjusting her top, she strides over to the females' bowl and reaches in, taking another slip just as delicately as the first time. Elowen takes in a breath, the only sound the collective buzz of being around her. Mellonia unfurls the paper, eyes it, and makes her way back towards the microphone with the clinking of her heels against the stage. Succeeding an inhale, she announces another name.
"Elowen Sedona!"
The oxygen is yanked down the wrong direction in her throat, sending her into a coughing fit she tries to stifle behind her lips. Oh /fuck/. She swallows it back down and begrudgingly begins to move forward, the next minute passing in a blur of other kids' extending out and touching her shoulder sympathetically as she moves between them, all while trying to keep her lungs from bursting with the urge to hack up phlegm.
After the crowd releases her from its hold, Elowen climbs up the stage stairs and next to Mellonia, very aware of all the eyes pushing against her skin. Breaking into a cold sweat, she stands parallel to the two others, facing out towards the crowd. Thousands of bodies are shifting within her vision, but she wouldn't pick out any faces within them if she tried to focus anywhere but the treeline.
"Citizens of Panem: your District Seven tributes!"
Per the routine, they face each other. Elowen stands over half a head taller than Linden, yet the determined way his expression is set up close intimidates her. They shake hands, his vice grip so hard her knuckles pop beneath, and she resists the striking urge to pull back. His palms are calloused and grates against her soft skin. When they drop hands, hers instinctively go to the bracelet flush on her left wrist, the string still longer than the knot.
Concluding the event with yet another flourish of her arms, the same way she began, Mellonia turns a sharp one-eighty and retreats into the Justice Building. It throws the Peacekeepers into cue, who swarm the two tributes and grasp them by the arms, directing them into the building. Neither of them fight this, Elowen spots their firearms secured into their belts and knows it's pointless; so she swings her head around for one last look at her home. Instead, she finds Wolf.
The man stands from his seat on the stage and straightens his suit, all while staring her down with eyes like a statue's: unblinking and unwavering. She can't decode his expression: a pursed lip with eyebrows narrowed, before the Justice Building doors block it when they're swung shut behind their arrival. The Peacekeepers don't waver their march, they drag her down the hallways, around several corners, until they halt at a dark wooden door that opens upon a key insertion, and they leave her in solitude.
Elowen grabs her skirt and stares at her feet, rubbing her sweaty palms against the soft fabric and shakes it around her legs, then grips at her scalp. She isolates a few strands of hair from her head, right beside her ear, and nervously begins to braid it. While she is busied, she takes the time to look around. The room is velvet, for the most part, with its fancy couches facing a carved coffee table, the window obscured with a thin red curtain. The light filters crimson through the drapes, and it leaves everything feeling… bloody. How many other kids had stood in this room?
How many had made it back?
Suddenly, she's doubting her chances. What did she know? She had that decent understanding of injuries and treatment, but it seemed to be the extent of her helpful knowledge. She traces back her hobbies, but they all fall short in usefulness. She didn't have the skills to find food or water, and her arms were as skinny as branches with little muscle that counted — probably not enough to swing a sword or defend herself if caught in combat. She could run somewhat, but she would easily be caught by somebody who even mildly excelled in speed. Managing terrain wasn't particularly a strong-point either, but for kids from the lumber District, it was supposed to be.
Elowen weighs her options. She did have stealth; she prioritized her light, soundless steps. She has a quick reaction time. She could tie knots, and that could be of use, right? There was something.
She uses the little reassurances to draw herself from her slump before she begins to spiral, and gradually knits together some veil of confidence for herself. By the time the door is opened, leaking in yellow light, she faces it with some degree of poise.
Monroe dashes in, instantly taking a dive towards Elowen and crushing her in a hug. "El, oh my gosh," she says, her voice defeated and her hand warm against the back of Elowen's head. She keeps repeating expressions of disbelief under her breath, pressing herself closer and closer as if she was scared the body wrapped against her chest was going to dissipate into the air. They stay like that for a few seconds, then Elowen wiggles her way out of the hug and a pace back.
Monroe frantically grasps onto Elowen's arms anyways, holding her in place. "El… I…" She swallows hard, "It's going to be OK, okay? You'll be OK."
Elowen nods, though she can't say she believed that. She touches her fingers to her sister's hand still upon her. "Where's dad at?"
"He's… I'm not sure," Monroe says, "I couldn't find him, but you only had limited time so I came here anyways."
Elowen's heart thuds loudly in her ears. She wanted to see him! She darts her eyes to the closed door, as if her pure desire would send him flying in here. Where was he at? For some reason, his absence disturbs her to her core, a shakiness growing into her bones. The last two days he had been acting so peculiar, and then he doesn't show up? What if the square had been the last place he would ever see him? She hadn't known. She would have savored that hug, or tried to preserve the kiss.
"Monny?"
"...Yeah?"
Elowen pries Monroe's hands off of her and intertwines their fingers, staring down their bracelets. "You'll be okay without me, right?"
"Elowen, you're not dying." Monroe's tone is firm. "You're going to come home."
Elowen squeezes her hand. "In the worst case scenario. Take care of yourself. Break up with Ivo, you don't need him. Live life, alright? Both you and dad. Promise me you all will."
It felt cruel to be setting down death wishes two weeks in advance, but she couldn't stand to leave her sister astray. It had been the two of them through thick and thin forever, one without the other felt like a forever night with no daytime. Elowen didn't even have any friends outside of her sister. It would reassure her to know Monroe would /hopefully/ try to exist without.
The older girl frowns. "Only if you try to win."
"Of course." Elowen slowly leans forward, then initiates another hug. This time, she doesn't try to squirm when Monroe returns it, she instead takes in the feeling of warmth, appreciating every moment. It could be their last.
"Okay. I promise," Monroe says. "I will. I love you, Elowen. I hope you know that."
"I love you too."
Silence falls upon them again, minutes before the realization follows. Tears creep down their cheeks, but they remain composed enough to wait out the sobs, to swallow them back for the time being. Elowen's chest feels terribly heavy. She longed to be at home, in her bed or by the fireplace, to be anywhere but here. To be in comfort knowing she was secure. Would she ever feel that again in her lifetime?
The Peacekeepers enter.
They remove Monroe swiftly, and hasty last minute farewells are tossed across the room then beaten against the door as they're cut off. Cold seeps into Elowen's bones in the absence of her sister, and she shivers, wiping the tears from her face. While waiting for them to return and collect her, she sits on the coffee table, too terrified of the death woven into the cushioned couches; she hugs herself tightly to replace the empty energy surrounding her.
The door clicks open again, but this time it's not a Peacekeeper.
"Bryony!"
Bryony stands in the doorway, evaluating the situation in front of her. She is a tall woman, enough to dwarf the above-average height Elowen, with long blonde hair covered in flowers, pale freckled skin, and startlingly bright eyes. While Bryony held her height with thin beauty, Elowen was made up of an awkward lankiness. The young woman was paired with a beautiful brain; she was everything Elowen wanted to be, could've been, if she could still have the chance now.
Bryony strides over nonchalantly, the Peacekeepers locking the both of them in together. She puts a hand on her hip.
"Do you have a strategy?"
"What?" Elowen rises from the table, her legs bringing her to the eyeline with Bryony's chin.
"To win."
Elowen comes up short, not expecting to be drilled so quickly and abruptly. She didn't even say hello! But before she can spit out some jumble-thoughted wad of an answer, Bryony lets out a good-natured chuckle.
"Elowen, they don't just raffle off victories." She shifts her stance, "We don't have much time, so tell me, how are you going to win?"
Then it's back to the strength and weakness thought. Elowen puzzles over this for a moment, gliding her thumb across her palms. "More than likely, it'll be an outdoor arena. Forest, if I'm lucky." Upon Bryony's nod of approval, she continues. "I'll um… stay in a tree. No one will find me. Maybe I can throw stuff at people."
"Arrows?"
Elowen shrugs, feeling put on the spot. "I'm thinking more of a stone."
Bryony smiles at this. "Ah, you'll be okay," she says, "I trust you will make wise decisions. Brawn doesn't mean anything if you don't know how to use it, and you've proved once or twice you're good at using what you have." She winks and gestures at her head—her brain.
Elowen wants to return that smile and accept that praise, but she still has an insolent nagging inside her guts. "Have you seen my dad?"
"Clem?" Her face falls, "No I haven't. Has he not shown up?"
Elowen shakes her head. "I haven't seen him since we got off the train. I'm really worried. I want to see him before I leave… what if I don't come back?" It would kill her to know she hadn't appreciated the last moments with her father. She didn't want some meaningless moment to be the conclusion. She wanted meaning.
"Alright, I'll go find him. You get an hour for visitors, it's only been half of that," Bryony says, "But for now, keep thinking about that plan of strategy, okay? You can come back home. I'll go find your father for you."
"Okay, thank you, Bryony."
"Mhm." She pats Elowen on the shoulder, "Good luck, my girl. You're so smart, I'm very lucky to have had you as my apprentice." This time, her smile is proud and affectionate, rather than humorous. Elowen's heart swells, emotions gradually getting the better of her. With that, Bryony rattles on the door handle until the Peacekeepers release her, and it throws Elowen into silence. She waits for them to return, and waits, and waits…
Clem never shows.