A/N: Trigger warning for Ciana's POV.


Chapter 8:

District Five

Ciana Devereaux, 18

Six Months Before

A knock on the door has Ciana instantly frozen in place, gripping the mug in front of her so tightly her knuckles start turning white. Lucian wasn't expected to be home for another hour and he has a key, so why would he knock on his own apartment door? And she wasn't expecting anyone…which certainly didn't mean good news for her. Not in this neighborhood and with the people she runs with. The knocking persists but she can't bring herself to move towards the door. Not when Lucian has warned her about answering when he isn't home. Too many people would want to hurt her to get to him and it just wasn't worth it. Or he would hurt her…

But this person didn't seem to get the hint.

"Ciana? It's me!"

Ciana's shoulders relax and she lets out a small sigh of relief, before tensing up once more. She told Mila it wasn't good for her to come over anymore, especially when Lucian wasn't home. Oh God she can just hear already what he'd say if he knew she was here. Yet he isn't…she still has plenty of time before he'll be home… And she misses her best friend.

Despite knowing she shouldn't, her feet start moving on their own accord over to the apartment door where Mila is still knocking. "Come on, Ciana, I know you're in there!"

Ciana leaves the latch on the door as she cracks it open, stopping Mila's incessant knocking. She glances through the crack, keeping her eyes down as Mila gives her an exasperated look for not opening the door soon. "You really shouldn't be here," Ciana tells her friend, glancing past her down the hallway to make sure no one else is there.

"We need to talk," Mila answers her but Ciana stays put, making no move to unlock the door. Mila gives her a pleading look and Ciana glances away, hating that she feels guilty about wanting to see her best friend, but she can't. Or shouldn't… Lucian wouldn't be happy… "Please. It's important, I promise."

Ciana meets her gaze for a few seconds and lets out a sigh as she shuts the door to undo the latch. When she opens the door fully, Mila steps in right away and gives her a brief hug before letting go to look her over. "Stop looking at me like that," Ciana tells her, stepping back to shut the door before wrapping her arms around her stomach to protect herself.

Mila frowns as she reaches out to grab Ciana's hand gently and pushes up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing dark bruises around her wrist. Ciana quickly snatches her hand back and pulls down the sleeve, holding the end of it in her hand to hide the fresh bruises. "He did that."

Not even a question, yet Ciana still barely nods her head as her eyes water at the pain. "He didn't mean to," she tells her friend, barely convincing herself of that. "He just grabbed my arm a little too hard. Seriously, it's fine."

"And the bruises from the week before?" Mila asks her, anger in her eyes that makes Ciana flinch away from her gaze. "Or the week before that? Ciana, that isn't right. I can't sit back and watch this keep happening to you."

"I can't leave him. He's a good person…" Ciana says quietly, knowing she doesn't fully believe that. "He helped me deal with my father's death and – what are you doing?" her pitch raises as Mila starts walking through the apartment, heading back to the bedroom and Ciana follows after her. Her breathing quickens in panic when Mila starts grabbing Ciana's clothes and a bag to shove them in. "Stop!"

"No!" Mila says sharply, pulling the bag away from Ciana when she tries to snatch it away. "I am getting you out of here. He is hurting you. I-I can't-" Mila cuts off as her eyes start watering and she focuses back on grabbing items as Ciana stands there, frozen in fear. "I can't watch my best friend keep getting hurt by that monster and do nothing."

"I can't leave him," Ciana shakes her head as fear overwhelms her and her whole body starts to shake. "He-he will kill me if I leave him a-and kill himself!"

"Ciana," Mila comes over and puts her hands on both of her shoulders, making her flinch away. "That is not normal. I am getting you out of here and I'm going to keep you safe, okay?"

Ciana meets her friends concerned gaze through tears and can tell Mila means well, and finds herself slowly nodding her head. Mila gives her shoulders a quick squeeze before letting go of her to get back to shoving things haphazardly into a bag. "We don't have much time."

"We'll be out of here soon," Mila reassures her, not looking over as she focuses on her task. "And then you'll be gone from him for good and-"

"Who the hell let you into my apartment?!"

Ciana shrinks away in fear at Lucian's raised tone as he stands in the doorway to the bedroom, completely blocking it and them from getting out. "Sh-she barged in here," she tries to tell him, recognizing the look in his eyes. She quickly looks away from him, keeping her head down and tensing up as she waits for him to hurt her.

Mila steps in front of Ciana protectively, holding her arms out as Lucian takes a couple slow steps into the room, towering over both girls. But Mila stands her ground as Ciana clutches the back of her shirt, silently begging her best friend to let it go. "I'm getting her away from you."

"No!" Lucian screams at her and reaches behind his back, pulling out a gun from his waistband and aiming it right at them. Ciana cries out in fear and tries to pull Mila away, but her friend stands her ground, seemingly not believing that Lucian will actually hurt her. "She's nothing without me. I won't let you take her away from me. I need her!"

"She's leaving you, Lucian," Mila tells him, reaching behind her to grab Ciana's hand. She tries to start moving and tugs on Ciana's hand, but she pulls her hand back, terrified by the look in Lucian's eyes. "Ciana, let's go-"

Bang!

Ciana stands frozen in shock as her ears ring and she watches in slow motion as Mila drops to the ground, clutching her bleeding chest. The world around her spins and she drops down to her knees harshly, just before retching up everything in her stomach. Her ears barely register the panicked muttering of Lucian as she crawls over to Mila, watching as she struggles to breath and feebly reaches over to Ciana. She clutches her friend's hand as Mila's chest stops moving, blood soaking the floor around them, yet she can't believe that this has happened.

"Shit!" Lucian put his hands on his head and pulls at his hair as he paces the room in front of Mila's bleeding body. Ciana clutches her friend, not even realizing she's screaming until he steps forward and backhands her, sending her to the floor. "Shut the fuck up! This is your fault! I-I wouldn't have done this if you weren't talking about leaving me!"

"M-Mila," Ciana sobs out, crawling on the floor over to her dead best friend. Her eyes stare ahead, frozen in shock from the moment she realized Lucian was going to kill her. "Oh God," she sobs and puts her head down on Mila's shoulder, desperately clutching the front of her shirt.

"You did this," Lucian tells her and she glances over to see him pointing the gun at her now. She flinches away and he keeps waving the gun around frantically as panic takes over him. "Why would you want to leave me? What am I supposed to do now when you go to jail?!"

"Why would I-" Ciana cuts off when Lucian kicks her and she screams out in pain.

"You did this!" Lucian screams at her and Ciana sobs in fear for her life as he crouches down in front of her, pointing the gun right between her eyes. "You're going to confess to this murder. If you don't, I…I…" he shakes his head as he tries to think of what he'll do. "I'll kill you too and then go find your family and kill them too."

Ciana backs away from him until she's pressed up against the wall as knocks start loudly echoing through the apartment as the neighbors come to investigate what has happened. Lucian stares her down as she brings her knees up to her chest and holds them tightly. Sobs hurt her chest as she stares at Mila's dead body, knowing that this is her fault. If she wasn't dating Lucian…her friend never would have tried to get her away and never crossed paths with him. He's right. She did do this.

She slowly raises her shaking hand up to him, keeping her tearstained gaze trained away from him as she waits for him to hand her the gun. "I…I did do this."


Morris Holmes, 15

Later That Week

Morris holds their head high as they weave their way through the stone slabs, leather boots crunching softly on the fresh layer of snow that hadn't been turned a disgusting gray color by the soot of the District yet. They run their hand over each headstone they pass, slowing a little to read some of the names and ages, imagining what their lives were like before the sweet release of death took them.

Death. The one thing that equalizes everyone. Well, everyone but Morris. Even in death, they're certain they will still be above everyone else. Someday they'll experience the sweet embrace of death as she takes them into whatever lies beyond, but until then, walking the graveyard is the closest they'll get to death. For now.

They head to a different section of the graveyard from yesterday, browsing the names to find someone they have yet to spend time with. Some graves they pass have fresh flowers in front of them, dusted with snow, others have dried flowers turning to dust, and some have been completely abandoned. They pick one of the abandoned ones, sitting on top of their tombstone and shutting their eyes as snowflakes land on their face, melting away instantly. What a peaceful place to be.

Morris sits like that for a while, tuning out the noise of the District around them and breathing in the cold air and feel of the graveyard. No place has yet to make them feel as comfortable as this place and they doubt they'll ever find a place like it. Except perhaps the arena…death all around them, seeing the life leave people's eyes right in front of them… Oh they can't wait to be there with all that death up close.

Morris stays on that tombstone as the sky gets darker. Very few people get close to them and those that do are greeted with an unusual grin from them that usually makes their pace pick up to get away from them. What can they say except they're an acquired taste. The people of Panem will get used to them soon enough. They'll have to.

"Aren't you cold?"

Morris picks their head up at the voice talking to them, one of the few people passing by that is brave enough to actually speak to them. Most freaked out over their whole death thing, but Morris knows it's because they're beneath them – they'll realize it soon enough when someday they become Monarch of Panem. "Hello, Dennis."

"I don't know why I'm surprised anymore when I find you here," Dennis says as he tucks his hands into his jacket pocket and scrunches up his shoulders, trying to stay warm. He stares down at Morris for a few seconds, the teen not feeling the cold despite sitting on stone, before using his head to gesture back at the funeral building. "I have a new body if you want to give a hand."

"Gladly," Morris answers as they hop off of the tombstone, giving the stone a respectful pat before following Dennis's brisk pace towards the building. Their parents have always questioned why Dennis lets them do this – and resented him for supposedly earning more of their love than they do – but the answer is quite simple, even if he doesn't talk about it. Dennis is just a lonely man, trying to fill the void left behind by the daughter that lies in this graveyard, next to the other dozens of children that have died in the Games. And, quite simply, he would like Morris to take over some day.

Maybe if their plans don't work out – which is highly unlikely because they don't fail – they'll consider it. Or maybe they'll do it as a retirement plan.

Dennis holds the door for Morris, letting them slip inside before he locks up the door behind them. "No embalming this time around, sorry to disappoint you," he says as they enter the back room, the smell of chemicals and chill of the freezers making Morris feel at home and brings a small smile to their face. Dennis opens up one of the freezers and pulls out the body, glancing back at them over his shoulder. "But you can help with the cremation after the examination."

"Examination?" Morris asks curiously as they step up to the other side of the body from Dennis and help him carry it over to the stainless steel table in the center of the room. They gently lower the body, treating her with respect as they look at the fear and pain still on her face. "Death eased her pain."

"I sure hope so," Dennis says with a heavy sigh as he starts putting on his scrubs and protective gear. Morris does the same, not out of fear of blood, but rather not wanting to hear their mother complain about getting blood out of their clothes again. Dennis continues as he puts his tools on a small tray, "She didn't die easily, I can tell you that before even cutting her up. Not every day you get a murder victim."

"No, it's not," Morris says, excitement filling them as they step closer to the table and Dennis pulls back the cloth covering the girl's body, revealing a deep wound in her chest surrounded by dried blood.

Dennis and Morris stand there in silence for a minute, both just staring down at the girl in front of them, not much older than Morris. Morris stares out of curiosity and respect for this person who now knows the beauty of death firsthand, while Dennis frowns as he prepares himself for his job. The empathy Dennis shows to each body is what has drawn Morris to him.

"Alright," Dennis finally says as he picks up his scalpel. He pulls down the face shield as his hand hovers over the chest, the scalpel reflecting the harsh fluorescents shining down on them. "Let's get moving."

Morris lets their mind wander for a few minutes as they watch Dennis make the y-incision in the girl's chest to further examine the wound, imagining all sorts of scenarios on what her life was like before her death. Maybe she was struggling to get a better life for herself, trying to claw her way out of the poorest parts of the District. Or she was rebelling against her rich parents trying to force her into a life she didn't want. Maybe she was an actual rebel that was caught in the act. But in all of their imagined scenarios, the girl is below them.

Finally, their curiosity wins out and they turn their attention towards Dennis. "What happened to her?"

"Don't you pay attention to the news at all?" Dennis asks, pausing his work to look up at Morris. They give a nonchalant shrug, not deeming the news worth their time – except for when that rebellion coverage was going on. So much beautiful death. If there was more of that going on, they'd certainly pay more attention. "Well it's been all over the news."

"I'll have to check it out," Morris says softly, looking down at the violent wound in the girl's chest. What were her last moments like? Did she struggle for air as the bullet pierced her lung? Or did she die instantly?

"She was murdered by her best friend," Dennis shakes his head with a frown as he stares down at the girl lying on the table between them. "Confessed right then and there to it but not a why. So you know how the District is, they want any evidence they can collect, regardless if there's a trial or not."

"Brutal," Morris whispers, staring at the bullet wound in a new light as Dennis gets back to work on extracting the bullet from her chest. Their scenarios start to twist to consider just what would drive a person to murder someone. Despite years of watching murders live in the Games and embalming numerous bodies with Dennis, they still don't know what goes through someone's head to desire death for another person so greatly they're willing to act. They can't wait until the day they get the answer for themself.

Not through their own death. No, they have too many grand plans to want to experience death themself at this point. But there are other ways to witness death first hand, ways that they have not seen in a long time. It's been too long since they witnessed the accident at the power plant with their grandmother. Visiting the graveyard and spending time with Dennis is just a small taste of death, leaving Morris unsatisfied and craving more.

Soon they'll get what they want. But for the next few months, they'll have to just be satisfied with these small tastes of death. Then they'll be part of a whole feast of death. And in their victory, it will be so easy to start down the path towards becoming Monarch of Panem.


Woop there it is. Big thanks to House Elf Liberation Front and ladyqueerfoot for Ciana and Morris respectively!

It's time to buckle up because we're about to crank through the remaining intros. I got wild motivation earlier this week and powered through a few intros and so at this time, I have all of the remaining intros done! Finally, I have made it through the intros woo! So we're back to weekly updates on this so we can get cracking on the pre-Games. And Legacy lol, Legacy updates will be coming...soon, I'm gonna work on that soon.

RQ # 8: Any alliance predictions or tribute you'd like to see interacting?

Alrighty, see y'all next week for intro number 9!