SONG: Smoke and Mirrors by Agnes Obel (I love this song, and I really feel like it connects to Iris!)

Slowly but surely, Iris fell into a routine. She woke up screaming early every morning. After a shower to get all the sweat off, she painted or drew, or made her way through one of her art books. She hadn't liked reading when she was a kid, but she found that she enjoyed reading about art. She remembered Agata telling her about a painting from before the Dark Days, but none of the books she had mentioned anything that hadn't been done by a Capitolite. She really wanted to find something about ancient art, but she had a good feeling that she wouldn't find anything like that in the Capitol.

Most days now she talked to either Pomponia or Lyme - sometimes both. She found it far easier to talk to either of them than to her aunt. Emily tried, she really did, but she just couldn't understand what Iris had gone through the way Lyme did. Even Pomponia understood better, after all her years of getting to know children who later died.

She wasn't going to burden Jordie with her feelings. It took him a few months to settle into his new school, but after a while he seemed comfortable. He and Mercedes had become good friends, and Mercedes often came to their house after school. Iris suspected that Jordie had a crush on the girl, but he barely talked to her nowadays - she wasn't going to push him away by teasing him. Even if she really wanted to.

Most days now after dinner, she and Emily would go over to Haylee's to smoke. Occasionally Iris had a drink, but she didn't want Jordie to see her wasted. She didn't want to put him through that if she could help it, not with their dad being the way he was.

She and Jordie had taken to visiting their dad every month or so. Neither of them really wanted to, but Iris knew that one day or another, he would overdose and they'd never get another chance to see him. Even if she hated who he had become, she still loved him for who he used to be. When he had still resembled a father. Emily, who had far less against him than Iris and Jordie did, checked on him every week to make sure he was alive and had enough food.

Iris felt guilty that she wasn't the one checking on him, but she could hardly handle going once a month. She usually timed her visits with her father with the days she gave Boris her money. Going to the slums took her straight back to where she and Jordie had used to be. Always dirty. Always hungry. Pulling her father out of puddles of his own vomit and shit. Every time she went there, she had to look around to make sure Greaseball or Acne or Stringbean weren't waiting around a corner to drag her back to Boris.

Whenever they went into the slums - only once a month, if they could help it - Iris made sure they wore their old, ratty clothes, and kept their heads down. So far, no one had recognised her, but she knew it would happen eventually. Everyone on that side of the district was so desperate for money they would do pretty much anything to get their hands on a few coins. Iris already knew they wouldn't hesitate. She was in more danger at home than she'd ever been before, now she was a Victor.

There was also the constant reminder that the Victory tour was coming up. Every day of comfort she had, every nice conversation with Lyme, the minutes ticked down. Soon, she would be paraded around the country - in front of the families of the children she had killed - and the rich Capitolites who wanted to buy her.

She had been trying not to think about it too much. She had never had sex before. The idea of letting some stranger touch her intimately like she belonged to them… it made her feel sick to her stomach. Sometimes she thought about going out and getting herself a boyfriend, just so maybe the first time she had to do it with a Capitolite she wouldn't be as scared.

Her nightmares, recently, had started involving people touching her. Men and women, holding her down, making her kiss them, touch them… it was almost worse than remembering the arena. Worse in a different way, she supposed. At least she still remembered what had happened, in the arena. Not knowing about what was going to happen to her in the Capitol was a whole different kind of fear. Her fate wasn't in her hands anymore.

At least the Victory tour meant she could see Pomponia again, in person. Talking on the phone was fine, but she hated not being able to read body language. Iris never knew if she was saying the right things, if she picked up on conversational cues. It was even harder when she couldn't see the other person's facial expressions. She had never had a friend before - a friendship that didn't end in death, that is - and she didn't know if she was doing it right.

Lyme seemed to think she was. At least, Lyme hadn't said anything about it. "How do you always have things to say?" Iris had asked one day.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've always got something to talk about. A funny story or something. I feel like I never have anything to say."

Lyme laughed. "I think that's the nicest way someone's ever told me I was a chatterbox."

"I like that you're a chatterbox!" Iris said, and she meant it. Usually chatty people annoyed her, but not Lyme. Lyme wasn't chatty in a self-centred way. Besides, Iris was always interested in what she had to say. "It means I don't have to think of things."

"You know you don't always have to have something lined up to talk about. I don't. Words just seem to come out of me before I can think of them."

"I wish I had that problem. I think about the words way too much."

"I guess we make a good pair then."

"Guess so."

There was a pause on the other end, soon broken by Lyme clearing her throat. "How do you feel about the Victory Tour?" she asked.

Iris had been expecting the subject change. Maybe Lyme would be able to help her feel better about the Tour. "Oh, you know," Iris said with a sigh. "Terrified."

"Yeah," Lyme replied. "That's how I felt, too."

"At least I can see you."

"Aw, sweetie," Lyme said teasingly. "Have you been missing me?"

Iris was glad that Lyme couldn't see her blush. "You wish."

"Well, me too. I hate talking on the phone."

"We're talking on the phone right now?"

"Yeah, duh. It's just not as good as talking in person. I don't like not seeing who I'm having a conversation with. It just feels weird."

"I know what you mean," Iris sighed. "I'll never get used to all these Capitol contraptions." The phone annoyed her. She hated how she couldn't leave the study when she wanted to use it. Sure, she liked her little studio, but it would be nice to have a conversation with Lyme without the paint fumes making her all light-headed.

"Wait til you see District Three. They've got such cool shit over there."

"Oh, I'll get to meet Wiress and Beetee," Iris said excitedly.

"And Calcula."

"And Calcula. I've always been fascinated with District Three, since I was a kid. District Three is like an improved District Six."

Lyme made a noise of agreement. "It kinda is."

"I forgot that you've been here. What did you think?"

"Honestly? It's a bit of a shithole."

"I bet you only saw Uptown. It's worse in the slums."

"You have slums?"

"Yeah. Well, that's what we call it. Uptown is the smallest, nicest part of the district and I bet that's where you saw. That's where the Justice Building and all the nice shops and the big train station is."

"Well, what's in the rest of the district?" Lyme asked.

"Pollution. Zombies. Rats and roaches and garbage everywhere. It's not great. I'm glad I don't live in the shit bit anymore."

"Zombies? Like, ughhh, brains kinda zombies from the stories?"

"No, like drug addicts," Iris said. "That's what we call them here."

"So who lives in the Uptown bit, then?"

"The mayor. Factory owners and foremen. Shopkeepers. Doctors. Me, now. Basically anyone who doesn't work in the factories, which is like a tiny pinch of people."

"I'm really glad I grew up in Two. Sounds much better than Six."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's not the most beautiful, but it's clean. Except for the quarries. Up in the mountains the air is so fresh it's like breathing in ice. That's where I grew up, before I got sent to boarding school."

"You'll have to tell me more about that on the Victory Tour," Iris said. She understood that 'boarding school' meant the not-very-secret training. Lyme was always hyper-cautious with what she said on the phone. Iris understood why, but she was also sure that whoever listening to them talk already knew about the training the Careers did. It was hardly a secret, after all, but there was a reason nobody talked about it. Not where anyone could hear, at least.

"I will," Lyme replied. "I'll show you. Usually the tour doesn't visit the mountains, but maybe I can see if we can take you up."

"That would be cool, I'd like that. I've never been on a mountain before." Iris wondered what it would be like, to be so high up and still feel solid ground beneath her feet.

"No mountains in Six?"

"There's mountains of trash and scrap metal. Once I saw a little brown mountain a dog left behind."

Lyme snorted. "Nice. Real nice. You're so poetic with your words."

"Thanks," Iris said, smirking. "I'm glad you think so."

"Anyway, you'll like it here. We always throw a big party for the new Victors. Most of our Victors come to it, even Martina."

"Martina?" Iris asked, frowning. The name was familiar, but she couldn't quite remember.

"Martina Harmon? Won the 35th?"

"Oh, that's the year after Haylee. What, does she not usually party?"

"No," Lyme snorted. "She works at the boarding school. She and Dido are obsessed with building a legacy."

"Who's Dido?"

"Martina's mom. She won way back in the 18th. She's a bitch."

"How is she a bitch?"

"Well, she's like, totally obsessed with District Two and Capitol superiority. Not that that's a bad thing," Lyme said hastily, "but it's the only thing she cares about. She's basically been brainwashing Martina her entire life to be a good little Victor. And now she's doing the same with her grandchildren."

"I'm not looking forward to meeting her." She couldn't even imagine it. She felt a pang of sympathy for Martina, even though she was a stranger to Iris. To have been groomed her entire life to be a Victor, not just by the Capitol, but by her own mother? That must have been horrible.

"Well, you probably won't have to. She doesn't mentor much. She's too busy at the school. And she never comes to the parties."

"Were they your teachers?"

"Yeah," Lyme said. "Dido only works with graduates. She's really good at breaking spirits and crushing dreams."

"Sounds like a real peach."

"Oh, yeah, such a peach," Lyme said sarcastically. "I guess everyone else is alright. Anyway, the tour parties are a lot of fun. I mean, I've only been to two of them so far, but yours will be better than Blight's."

"Why?"

"I told you, he's a lightweight. Doesn't party very hard. Oh, I wish I could have gone to Haymitch's. That would have been wild," Lyme said wistfully.

"Wow, you're truly a party animal."

Lyme laughed. "Yeah, I s'pose I am. I can't wait to take you clubbing in the Capitol!"

"Clubbing?" Iris asked, confused. She'd never heard that word before.

"Yeah. Nightclubs? Don't you have those in Six?"

"Don't think so."

"You're in for a treat. The clubs are so much better in the Capitol," Lyme said wistfully. "Music so loud you can't think, people too fucked up to recognise you… pretty girls to take home." Iris wasn't sure how to reply, but she didn't need to. "Anyway. I know this is probably selfish of me, and it's going to suck ass for you, but I'm excited for your Victory Tour."

"I'm sure it's not going to be all bad," Iris said honestly, twisting the phone cord around her fingers. "I'm looking forward to seeing the other districts and meeting other Victors."

"Aw, are you sick of me already?"

"Never. Just - I don't have many friends, here, and even if I did they wouldn't know what I went through. So it will be nice to know more people who do."

"Yeah. It's pretty good." Lyme was quiet for a moment; Iris could almost hear her thinking. "I'm not sure what I would do if I only had Haylee for company."

"Well, I've actually been talking to her. You're right, she's not all bad."

Lyme laughed happily. "Iris! I'm impressed!"

"Don't get too excited," Iris said, smiling. "We're not besties yet."

"Yet! You said yet!"

"Okay, shut up, I don't think we're going to be best friends, I just meant that we don't actively hate each other anymore-"

"Nope. You're best friends. I have a sense for these things."

"Sure you do. Just like Brutus has a sense for when you're going to kick him in the balls."

"First of all, I don't appreciate the sarcasm," Lyme said. Iris could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Second of all, Brutus does not have a sense for that, because I kick him every day. Pretty sure I've killed like, half of his future children by now."

Iris scrunched up her nose. "Ew! Lyme!"

"What?" asked Lyme innocently.

"You're disgusting."

"Okay, Little Miss 'I saw a mountain of dog shit once', what's your point?"

"I said what I said."

/

A week before the Victory Tour, Iris turned nineteen. She didn't feel like there was much to celebrate. Perhaps, if things were different, she would have celebrated being out of the reaping, but that obviously didn't matter any more. There were too many people she missed to be happy. Her mom was dead. The friends she'd made in the arena were dead. Pomponia was in the Capitol. Lyme was in Two. She loved her family, but sometimes Iris felt so incredibly lonely.

She found, though, that the more time she spent with Haylee, the less she hated her. Sure Haylee was rude, and insensitive, and selfish - but she was also funny, and sympathetic to what Iris was going through. She wasn't much of a mentor, but she made a good friend. Iris couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her, spending twenty years alone in the Victor's Village. Iris still hadn't asked what had happened to Haylee's family, and Haylee had never brought it up.

Jordie had been spending more and more time with Mercedes. Iris had a strong feeling that they were more than just friends, but Jordie shut her down whenever she tried to talk to him about it, so she'd gotten the hint. Mercedes was a nice girl - she didn't care that Jordie had grown up in the slums, or that Iris was a Victor. Her parents owned the shoe shop, so she'd grown up relatively well-fed, although she always accepted the food Iris and Emily sent home with her.

Despite the fact she hadn't wanted to celebrate, her birthday ended up being quite nice. It was small - only Emily, Jordie, Haylee and Mercedes - but it was enough to take Iris' mind off of the upcoming Victory Tour for a few hours.

She had spent a lot of time with Jordie and Emily in preparation for the tour, making sure they knew how to act in front of the cameras. They'd both been interviewed already, of course, when she got to the final eight, but people would likely want to ask them questions. Iris wanted to make sure they had the right answers.

Pomponia had instructed her to select some paintings to show for her Victor's talent. It had taken Iris a long time to decide. Given her way, she would have kept them all to herself. She didn't want the Capitol to see them. But it was also her chance to say sorry, in a way, for what she had done. She had control again, in her paintings. She liked that only she knew exactly what they meant. She could tell the Capitol they represented something completely different, and they wouldn't know any better.

The paintings she liked the most were not the ones she was going to show the Capitol. Since she tended to do most of her painting after her nightmares, most of them were bloody and dark and upsetting. Iris loved them. Maybe she should have hated them, just for what they stood for, but being able to take the images that haunted her out of her head was something she found incredibly cathartic. The paintings were beautiful, if she said so herself - and Iris never wanted anyone else to see them.

The paintings she had chosen for the tour were far less bloody than the ones she kept hidden away. There was one of Kasia and Christopher, sitting on the back of a scorpion, while Agata brandished a sword. There was one of Axel, healthy and clean, sharing a plate of food with Jordie. Pomponia, staring up at Iris from the audience, Iris' mom and Emily sitting either side of her, the three of them hand in hand. And the painting that upset her most of all - Taggerty, Thorn, Tonia, Minerva and Scorah, alive and beautiful, sitting in a row along the top of a canyon in their interview outfits, legs dangling over the edge.

Some of her paintings, though, she kept in a box under her bed. Agata, moments away from death, as she looked with horror at the trap that would end her life as Malachite's hands pushed her down. Christopher, in the moment the scorpion decapitated him, blood and sand twirling around its pincers like a tornado. Kasia's empty eyes, reflecting the sky she was staring up at. Skies full of blood, blood, blood, raining down on her. Looking at them made Iris feel sick. She couldn't even remember painting them. And yet, though she hated them, they were the ones she was the most proud of. She didn't often open the boxes in her head, but when she did, the paintings were what came out.

Her art still wasn't perfect. She was good at faces, but legs were too long, fingers were too spiky, eyes were often too large. Her proportions were never correct. But still, Iris was proud of how far she had come. She hadn't known how to paint six months ago. She'd quickly gotten bored of realism, and had embraced the imperfections of her work - strange proportions, too long shadows, multiple senseless sources of light. She liked that art didn't have to make sense.

She'd only ever shown Jordie and Emily the bloodless paintings. Broken spears and irises in a vase, auroras dancing across the sky, red smoke curling across a river. She wasn't sure why she was so reluctant to show them her real paintings. They would, after all, see them on TV with the rest of the country. But she didn't want them to try to talk to her about it. She didn't want to say anything. She wanted to be far, far away by the time they started thinking about it.

I'm really trying not to drag this story out, but I don't want to rush it either. It's a bit hard to find a balance. Anyway, the next chapter will be the Victory Tour - I haven't finished writing it yet, but it's getting pretty long so I might end up splitting it in two.

Also i love the lyme/iris conversations they always get so out of hand and they go on for SO LONG i hope you guys don't mind lol they just seem to spiral