Tomo Metellus, 18

District 6, He/Him

June 17th, 97 ADD

12:41 PM

He didn't know what to do. He'd spent the last two weeks trying to figure out what to do, and he still didn't know.

(How to survive here without killing? How to defend himself without hurting someone? How to stand by his beliefs in a place that sought to punish him for them?)

And in the meantime, all around him, people died. Mercury. Chevre. Jest. The list went on and on. It was overwhelmingly long, for a boy who had only seen death once.

(His mother, when he was six years old. It was before he and Teurian left Two. He remembered that the nanny held his hand instead of his father. And he remembered that, for a reason that escaped him even now, he didn't cry.

Tomo had cried over almost everything in his life. Why not his mother's death?)

(Why not now?)

Jem lay next to where Tomo sat on the hill, staring at the sky. Streaks of clean, salty skin stretched from his eyes to his chin. His hair was knotted. He hadn't said much of anything all morning.

Tomo decided to try to talk. "Do you want to try to eat something?"

The bag he'd grabbed on the way out of the Cornucopia had some food in it, luckily. As well as Wisdom's mystery solution, which Tomo was nervous to touch.

"I'm fine."

Jem's tone was a mystery to him. He decided to take him at his word. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked. "Do you need new bandages?"

"No."

"About feeling okay or the bandages?"

Jem's head lolled toward Tomo, staring up at him. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," Tomo said. "That's why I asked."

"Tomo," he said, "all of our friends are dead."

"I saw."

"So I feel pretty bad."

"That makes sense."

Silence stretched out between them again. This- this felt wrong, somehow. For Jem to be so silent. Tomo had gotten used to hearing the Nine boy hum under his breath all day, and even that was gone now. So he tried talking again.

"Did you… have you ever seen someone pass away? Before all this, I mean?"

Jem looked at him again. "What kind of question is that?"

"I don't know," Tomo said, trying not to get defensive. "I- I was just thinking."

Jem blew out a breath. "Sure," he said. "I've seen people die before. My ma got thrown in jail for a crime she didn't commit, and she died there. Pops went not long after that."

Tomo swallowed. "I'm so sorry," he said. "That sounds awful."

"It does," Jem agreed. "Don't get too torn up about it, though. I made it up."

Tomo frowned. "What?"

"Didn't happen," Jem said. "Made it up ages ago."

"But- why would you do that?"

Jem shrugged. "Don't have any better answers," he said. "Don't know what happened to them, not really. So I made up my own headline. Good, eh?"

Tomo took a moment to process that. "Oh."

"Think I've seen enough death now, though," Jem muttered.

Tomo glanced over his shoulder, where the ghost of the One girl watched quietly. He wished he knew her name.

He looked back at Jem. "Me too," he said. "It wasn't in my five-year plan."

"Your what?"

"My five-year plan."

"Yeah, I heard you," Jem said. "The hell are you talking about?"

"I, um… I planned out the next five years of my life," Tomo said. "So I would know what to do. Well, I planned out a few versions, just in case, but I have my main plan all laid out. But then I got Reaped."

"What was in the plan?" Jem asked.

"Oh," Tomo said, his cheeks heating up. He didn't love that feeling. "You know… go to college. Graduate top of my class. Follow in my father's footsteps, go into politics. Eventually get married and have kids. One boy and one girl."

"All that in five years?" Jem asked, sounding surprised.

"Mostly the career stuff for those five years," Tomo said. "The rest would probably take a little longer. Though…"

He could feel his face getting hotter. He looked away.

"What?" Jem asked. "What's that face?"

"There's nothing wrong with my face!"

"That's not-" Jem stopped. "What's the matter?"

"I- I was just thinking about… I talked to Mr. Myrellis-Verilla about some things when we were in the Capitol," Tomo explained.

"Like…?"

"He was explaining some stuff about marriage to me," Tomo said. "He- he's married to a man. That's all."

"Ah." Jem paused. "He told you gay people could get married?"

"Um… yeah," Tomo said lamely.

"Well, that's… good…" Jem replied. "And that would change the plan?"

Tomo scratched his head, angling his hand so Jem couldn't see his face. "I- no. Well. I don't know. There were, um, sort of bigger problems. We were only talking about it because of the Career alliance, because of what they were- doing, and then we… talked about other things."

(Teurian, mostly.)

The curves that had appeared at the corners of Jem's lips faded. "Right. The Careers."

Tomo stilled. "I hope we don't see them again."

"We should kill them," Jem said, his voice low. Tomo didn't like the way he spoke. "Before they hurt anyone else."

"I… um…"

"They killed four of our friends, Tomo," Jem said. "And they tortured one. You-" His voice broke. "You saw what they did to Chevre."

Tomo nodded and wrung his hands.

Jem closed his eyes. "I can't stop thinking about it. All of it."

"So you want to kill them," Tomo said. "For our… friends."

(The word felt odd in his mouth. Unfamiliar.)

"They deserve it," Jem said, his voice tight.

"I…" Tomo trailed. "I don't know if I can."

Jem opened his eyes. "You can't what?"

Tomo wrung his hands harder. "I'm not sure I can kill them."

"Why?" Jem demanded.

"It- it's wrong."

Jem sat up, his hair oddly lopsided. Tomo wished he would comb it. "It's wrong?" Jem asked. "It's the rules of the game, Tomo. Kill or die."

"I never asked to play," Tomo replied.

Jem narrowed his eyes. "Well, you're here anyway."

"I-"

"They tortured her, Tomo," Jem said, getting a bit louder. "They put a spear through a twelve-year-old. They tore True apart, and Jest-" He stopped. "And you can't kill them?"

"I can't go back on what my father taught me," Tomo said. His chin jutted out.

"Does your father want you dead? I'm sure he'd understand-"

"I can't let him down!" Tomo interrupted.

"But you fought before!" Jem countered. "When Mercury showed up, when we took the Cornucopia, the day Chevre was taken-"

"I didn't fight Mercury," Tomo said. "I- I couldn't. And when I saw Four we just… looked at each other."

Jem stared at him. "You didn't fight Four?"

"No-"

"Chevre was taken," Jem repeated, not loud this time, which worried Tomo more. "Jest got hurt so bad he could barely sit up. And you didn't do anything?"

"I- I was holding her off! I didn't want to provoke her!" Tomo argued. "And it worked!"

Jem shook his head. "Wow."

Tomo's face was hot again. "I'm trying my hardest."

"Doesn't seem like it."

"I am."

"You'd let people die- people you care about- because of this?" Jem asked.

"I-" Tomo struggled. "I can't- I think…" He couldn't look at Jem. "If I had to kill someone, part of me would die too."

The silence returned.

(But he wouldn't take it back. He couldn't let Teurian see him take a life. He just couldn't.)

"Well," Jem said. "Consider yourself lucky, then."

Tomo didn't know what to say to that.

"Glad you've been able to walk through life with your eyes shut," Jem continued, his voice flat. "Most of us don't get to live that way. Sounds nice. Easier."

"My life isn't easy," Tomo said.

Jem exhaled for a long time. "I just don't want you to get killed, Tomo. That's all."

Tomo forced himself to mirror Jem's slow breath. "I don't want you to get killed either."

"Then we're in agreement about something."

Jem eased himself back to the ground, resting his head against the dirt. He reached for his hat and settled it over his face, apparently done talking.

(He didn't like the feeling of Jem's judgment. He didn't like hearing Jem speak aloud the possibility of his death. He- he didn't like considering that his friends might be dead because of his actions.)

(Or lack thereof.)

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

(He knew what was right, and he knew his limits. He would stick to them. They'd never failed him before.

He'd have to hope they wouldn't fail him now.)

Mendi Navar, 14

District 12, She/Her

2:17 PM

It was getting hotter, she was sure of it.

She'd been sweating more and more by the day. Today, she couldn't stop even when she was out of the sun. Her shoulder was hottest of all, red and puffy and painful to touch. She kept pressing her sticky fingers to her temple, and every time she pulled them away, they were covered with a slick sheen.

So she made herself walk to the riverbed and stick her arm in.

She let out a gasp. Mendi had never been very fond of baths- especially not since meeting her stylists- but this felt different. This felt… good. She watched the water flow around her forearm, tugging at her fingertips as it moved. It took specks of dirt and dust and something red like rust with it, and she watched, mesmerized.

Once the water stopped washing grime from her skin, she pulled her arm out, holding it next to her dry one. It looked better. More importantly, it felt better.

She stuck the other one in. This time, she was ready for the coolness. She splayed her fingers, watching the water catch under her nails as goosebumps prickled at her forearms. She couldn't take her eyes off her hand, watching it change color beneath the surface.

After days of sweating, it felt so good that she kicked her boot off and eased her foot in, too. Then the other foot. Then she scooted forward, wading in deeper, letting the water cool her legs. It wrapped around her aching shoulder, making her exhale with relief. Her feet squished against the mud at the bottom, seeping between her toes.

After a moment's hesitation, she closed her eyes and pulled her head under.

It sounded different underwater. Loud, but… smooth. The current tangled through her hair, making it stream out behind her. It pushed gently against her sealed lips, her closed eyes, like a goodnight kiss.

(For a moment, she felt safe there.)

(Mendi Navar was always safest alone.)

Then she ran out of breath and pushed her head back above water, wiping the droplets from her eyes so she could see again.

Across the river, a ghost stared at her.

Mendi jumped, stumbling back. The river caught her just as she realized- it wasn't one of hers. Those were behind her still, and a glance back confirmed it.

Instead, this was a girl. She had a narrow jaw and stick-straight hair. She was covered in patterns of small red circles that oozed from her neck and her calves. Her hands were red.

Mendi glanced at her own hands. They were pale again. Clean. She rubbed them together to be sure, which only made them paler.

She looked back up. The girl still watched.

(She thought of Patrek, watching. Tiernan, watching. Sienna, watching. All of Twelve, watching. Thinking they knew her family and who she was. But they didn't. They didn't know anything. They didn't know Mendi Navar's terror, didn't know her, didn't believe her.)

(Mendi Navar was her father's daughter, and her father had to be innocent. Mendi wasn't bad, just scared. And Father was the same. She didn't hurt Bryony. He didn't hurt Mother. )

But she didn't see the same suspicion in this girl as the ghosts behind her. Or the warmth of Bryony and Mother.

Instead, her eyes matched the ones Mendi always saw in the reflection of the river.

Mendi watched her back, warily, for a long time. She watched her until her body started to tremble. Eventually, she lifted her hand out of the water, and saw her fingertips had shriveled.

Teeth chattering, she made herself turn away, going back to where she'd left her supplies on the riverbank. She caught a glimpse of two ghosts as she turned, and kept her gaze low.

(Don't look back. Never look behind you.)

She looked into the river instead, and as she began to climb out, she saw a shine. Something caught the light, briefly, before her shadow fell over it. Mendi leaned down, peering closer, and saw it again: a stone, lodged in the muck.

She reached into the water again and pulled it out.

It was about the size of a marble, though less round. It had lots of jagged edges, though not sharp enough to cut. It glittered greenish-yellow and silver in her hand, sparkling as she rolled it around her palm

She liked it. She put it in her pocket.

Then she climbed out of the river, where she spent the rest of the afternoon watching the ghost girl and trying not to sweat.

Bastet Avarne, 18

District 2, She/They

3:09 PM

"We should leave the Cornucopia."

Vince frowned, looking up at Bastet from where they lounged on empty crates. "What? We just got here!"

Between them, sitting against the wall and rebandaging her leg, Tisiphone shifted uneasily. Bastet had a feeling they'd just interrupted some sort of conversation between them. They didn't care.

"We have our supplies back. We can carry what we need. We have to be more mobile or we'll never catch the rest of them," Bastet replied. They lifted her chin, trying to ignore the half-dozen ghosts swarming the room. How claustrophobic it made her feel.

"We can hunt from here perfectly fine," Vince argued.

"It doesn't make sense to stay," Bastet fired back. "They can find us. They know where we are."

"Yeah, and we'll just kill more of them!"

Bastet could feel her heart beating faster. "Because it went so fucking great the last time they got the jump on us?"

"They won't surprise us again," Vince scoffed. "There's only two of them."

"Guys," Tisiphone said quietly.

Bastet turned on them. "What?" they snapped. "If you're gonna say something, don't fucking whisper it!"

Tisiphone stared back at them. Bastet expected to find Tisiphone's usual pathetic sad face, but instead, her features were infuriatingly calm. Blank, almost.

Bastet hated it.

"If we could all stop arguing for a second," Tisiphone finally said, "I wanted to remind everyone that there are more tributes left than just those two."

"No shit," Bastet said.

"Well, yeah," Vince said at the same time. "But, like… priorities. The whole show's been about us versus them anymore. It doesn't make sense to suddenly go after… I don't know, Twelve? She's still alive, right?"

"I don't care about Twelve," Bastet said. "I care about Nine."

(Because killing Ten didn't make her feel better. The satisfaction of plunging a knife into her throat was bitter-thin and fleeting. Ten's fear, which had filled them up so much before, wasn't enough.

They needed more.

(She needed to see the ghost trailing Nine like a shadow. They needed her eyes one more time.)

She needed punishment.)

(And she could punish Nine's success and their own failure at the same time.)

Tisiphone gave her another one of those maddening looks, like she thought she knew something. Bastet wished she would go back to being all teary-eyed and clingy.

Vince nodded. "I would also love to see Nine dead. Personally."

"I don't care about your dumb theatrics," Bastet snapped. "I'm killing him. You can have Six."

Vince rolled their eyes. Bastet resisted the urge to smack them. "We'll see about that."

"Maybe we'll come across the others anyway," Tisiphone added.

"Whatever," Bastet said.

"I want to keep the Cornucopia, though," Vince insisted.

Not smacking them was growing harder by the minute. "We don't need-"

"I'd like to keep it too," Tisiphone interrupted.

Bastet looked down at her. "What?"

Tisiphone's gaze was steady. "I'm not recovered from my leg injury, and Nine isn't a priority for me. I don't think it's wise to be so active. It'll only make it worse."

"Then you should have killed Brizo faster," Bastet replied.

To her satisfaction, that finally cracked Tisiphone's calm. Her brows furrowed, and the corners of her lips tugged downward. Good.

"Probably could've, if you'd helped," Vince remarked.

Bastet glared at them. "She shouldn't have needed help."

"Right," Vince said, "because you've never needed help with anything."

Tisiphone cleared her throat. "It sounds like we're staying."

"That's bullshit," Bastet said.

"Then leave, Bastet!" Vince said. "Tiss and I want to stay. No one is making you stay."

Bastet looked back and forth between the two of them.

"I see how it is," she said softly. "You two are best friends now. It's almost sweet enough to give me a cavity."

Vince scoffed.

"Well, I don't need you," Bastet said. "I don't fucking need you."

"Bastet," Tisiphone started.

Bastet whirled on her. "Who're you gonna cling to, huh?" they hissed. "When Vince abandons you, too? They'll do it. Look at how quickly they let Rumi down."

"That was not my fault-"

Bastet ignored Vince. "Brizo's gone," they told her. "I'm leaving. Vince will too. You'll die alone and no one could care less."

She could see the cracks deepening in Tisiphone's calm, but the Four girl held her eye. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "That you lost her. But this won't change anything."

Bastet didn't think; they slapped Tisiphone across the face, quick and sharp. Tisiphone's head jerked to the side before she looked back at Bastet, her eyes wide.

"How dare you," Bastet spat.

"Hey," Vince interjected. "Time to go. Now."

"She's better than you could ever be," Bastet ranted. "You never even came close. Twice as boring and half as good. A whiny, pathetic-"

Vince grabbed her hand. She didn't remember them getting off the crates. "Get out, Bastet."

Bastet turned, wrenching themself free. "Fine," she shrieked. "Have fun holding hands and singing songs! I hope you fucking kill each other!"

Vince took a step closer. Bastet reached down and scooped up a pack; their knives were already tucked into their clothes, but they wanted the brass knuckles too. Then, before either of them could take the chance, she spun and slipped out the nearest Cornucopia door.

(Fuck them. Fuck both of them. Bastet didn't need them. She'd only ever needed-

needed-

they needed-

fuck them. And fuck Nine.

Bastet was going to see her eyes again. They didn't care if they belonged to a ghost.

She needed to.)

Aescelin Ibbara-Ixtal, 18

District 7, He/Him

4:49 PM

Aescelin's afternoon prayers were only half-finished when Valentina's voice cut through.

"Is that a parachute?"

Aescelin paused his prayer to the visage of the most recent sacrifice, annoyed. It was so difficult to pray to them, given that they insisted on lurking immediately behind him at all times. "What?"

Standing a few feet away, boots planted on the rising hillside, Valentina craned her neck so far up that she had to use her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, even with her hat. She pointed up. "There."

Aescelin squinted toward where she was pointing. Sure enough, his annoyance ebbed as a small package- no larger than his palm- floated down toward them on a silver parachute. A gift from the Spirit. A reward, surely, for his labors last night.

Aescelin got off his knees and stood, reaching upward until it settled into his hands. "Thank you, O Spirit!" he cried. "You honor me beyond what I deserve today!"

"What's in it?" Valentina asked.

Aescelin removed the parachute and handed it to her. He pulled the string holding the box closed until the knot unraveled, then handed her that too.

Inside the box was a folded piece of paper with a name on it.

Valentina.

He failed to suppress his frown in time. He forced his lips to smooth, not wanting the Spirit to think him ungrateful. "The gift is for you," he told her.

Valentina's dark eyebrows arched. She set the parachute and string down, then took the package from her hands. She tossed the box toward the parachute and unfolded the note. Her eyes widened.

(What wisdom had the Spirit designated for her? Why send a reward to Valentina? Aescelin had done the rites, completed the sacrifice, while Valentina stood back and bore witness. He didn't understand why the Spirit viewed her to be of such importance. He was the one who had cultivated Their following! He was the one who created-

no- not- not created-

discovered. He discovered the Spirit of the Forest.

So why did They cast him beneath Valentina now?)

"Speak," he demanded.

Her eyes didn't move from the paper. "I… have been given… instructions," she said slowly.

Instructions? To Valentina?

He reached for the paper, but she pulled it toward her chest. "Let me see," he insisted. "What does it say?"

She finally looked back at him. Shock was written in the wrinkle between her brows, but he couldn't read her features as he normally could- there was something there he didn't understand, which only irritated him further.

She spoke. "It's the next sacrifice."

"Who?" he asked. "The Five girl?"

"No, Aescelin," she said. "It's you."

Aescelin recoiled, stumbling back. "No."

She shook her head. "It's true."

"Let me see!"

Valentina finally acquiesced the paper. Aescelin read it once, then twice. It didn't take long. It was only five words.

You have to kill him.

He tossed the paper aside. "This could be anyone," he said. "The Spirit- it has to be someone else There are others in the arena- the other boys-"

Valentina continued shaking her head as he reasoned with her, reaching down and picking up the stained bat she'd taken from Two. "The Spirit means you," she said. "You know it. We both do. And it has to be me."

Aescelin backpedaled, stepping away from her. "No!" he insisted. "The Spirit loves me too much- I'm Their most loyal, most loving-"

"Not anymore," Valentina reminded him.

"Bullshit!" he shouted.

Valentina's eyebrows lifted again. "Is that blasphemy I hear?"

"They were my discovery!" he ranted. "I brought Them sacrifices to honor Them! I brought followers to Their cause!"

Valentina continued advancing toward him, even as he backed away from her. "And you've done such great work, Aescelin," she told him. "But think of how much strength you'll give Them in this way. They need you, Aescelin. Don't fail Them now."

"This isn't right!" he shrieked. "This isn't how it should be!"

"It's how it is," Valentina said simply. Then she swung.

Aescelin leaped back, narrowly avoiding the end of the bat. He held his hands in front of him, trying to hold her back, but Valentina swung again. It cracked into his elbow, making him screech.

"Spirit!" he shouted. "Give me a sign! This cannot be your wish!"

He looked up at the sky, begging. A moment later, the bat struck his leg- the one wounded that very first day, that Valentina had helped him try to heal- and his vision exploded with stars. He stumbled, falling to one knee.

"Spirit!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Do not forsake me!"

The bat smashed into the side of his head, and Aescelin's vision went black for a horrifying few seconds. He felt his body collide against the ground, the dirt and dust digging into his skin. He blinked, trying to see again, trying to push himself up to serve the Spirit once more, but he was so dizzy and his head pounded.

The bat slammed down one more time.

Darkness enveloped him, fuzzy and warm. The pain in his head, his leg, suddenly felt so distant.

Aescelin reached for his Spirit.

He found only emptiness.

9th: aescelin ibbara-ixtal, d7 (killed by valentina gammon)

kills:

aveline: 1
invincible: 2
bastet: 2
mercury: 1
tisiphone: 2
brizo: 1
valentina: 1
aescelin: 2
jem: 1
patrek: 1
mendi: 2

alliances:

invincible & tisiphone
tomo & jem
bastet
chase
valentina
mendi

featured ghosts:

aveline averone, d1, fool's gold (killed by jem piper)
chaney hallows, d7, eyeing the throne (killed by muttations)
fleur pettifur, d6, fool's gold (killed by aescelin ibbara-ixtal)

thank you so much to void for submitting aescelin! say what you will about aescelin he was my special little freak and no one understood him like me. his brain was such a place to be and writing him- as well as writing him with valentina- was alarmingly fun. have fun in hell bestie!

and that's the end of phase 2! thanks to goldie for betaing this one. we'll get an interlude with some final 8 stuff (and a capitol pov? maybe? idk) and then we'll get back into the arena with all the fun stuff. also, THANK YOU for the absolutely insane review milestone we just hit. that number is fucking crazy and i appreciate all of you so so much.

see you next time!

rb