Here's another chapter to keep us going in between submissions!

Mnemosyne Tanana, Head Gamemaker, 45

January 115 ADD

Designing an arena had always been one of the things Mnemosyne found the most difficult. At the Institute of Gamemakers, the highest grade she had ever gotten in Arena Design was a B. She knew exactly where the binder full of all her old papers and illustrations would be in her office, each page scribbled with critiques on how to improve. Their blood red ink a dark reminder of the fate of incompetent Gamemakers. Hidden in her penthouse attic were the 3D models she had painstakingly created, all fit with a hologram telling of a fictional Games. Although now her professors may sing her praises and claim to see such unique little details that were 'so distinctly' her, Mnemosyne remembered when all they had for her were scathing remarks.

"You expect Panem to watch an arena based on that?" "Mnemosyne, my dear, this is quite unremarkable..." "Are you sure you can be a Gamemaker?"

Yet here she was, adorned as one of Panem's greatest Head Gamemakers.

As she flipped through her notebook, eyes trailing over the words that encapsulated idea after idea, she knew she had earned that love through other means. For whatever Mnemosyne lacked in designing an arena, she made up for in muttations and twists. The marring B's of Arena Design could never extinguish the blazing fire that was her stellar Muttation Design grade, nor her top of the class, undefeated grace in the harshest professor's Psychology class.

It was her, after all, who suggested they shock poison the lake of the 93rd Games to rid the arena of a rather insufferable batch of Careers, the poison being specially designed for them to turn on each other. It was her, after all, who forced a group of allies in the 105th Games to watch the youngest of their pack get mauled to shreds and then have jabberjays torment them with her screams until they mutilated themselves. It was her, after all, who subjected the tributes of the 106th Games to such horrors that half tore their own eyes out.

It was her, after all, who cruelly ripped District Twelve's only chance of having a Victor in the 99th Games by forcing her into second place through a dazzling display of pyrotechnics. Mnemosyne had learnt, that year, that girls from the Seam of District Twelve seemed to enjoy dying in flames brought upon them by their own stupidity. The way the charred, singed grass formed two wings behind her calcinated, unrecognisable body was a stark reminder that the rebels had lost again. No mockingjays could rise from District Twleve, not as long as she was present.

For that, Mnemosyne was elevated to Head Gamemaker, ousting the old Syrius Holdender. That had been a good decision too; he had been far too comfortable letting District Twelve accrue their first Victor. Mnemosyne had not been so keen then but had since received the blessings from President Augur that a Victor from Twelve could be permitted under the right circumstances. She always smiled when she thought of it, knowing the likelihood was low after the forces of Twelve had snatched her grandmother away.

Designing an arena without knowing the tributes was a hard task, if only because it required the acutely perfect and faultless balance of adaptability whilst still adorning its own identity. That had been one of the things Mnemosyne missed from damned Arena Design - there, at least, she had been given a rundown of fictional tributes and their stories. Normally she deferred it to Winterbelle and her team; the younger Gamemaker possessed a far better flair for it than Mnemosyne ever could and crafted beautiful arenas whenever she had been allowed to. Such opportunities had not been without their risks, the quizzical gaze of President Augur, but Mnemosyne always ensured she added her own mediocre arenas to assuage him.

That had been last year's arena and this year's, the latter asked personally by Odysseus himself.

Whatever the President wanted, the President got. So, naturally, Mnemosyne had busied herself brainstorming all the arenas she could think of. Some were fantastically intricate whilst others were simpler, allowing for an emphasis on the mind game of chess in which Mnemosyne called herself it's Queen.

She reached a page in her notebook that detailed a mutt idea. She could tell from the pitiful scrawl that the idea had come to her out of the blue, demanding she write it down before the idea was lost. In her head, she could smell the burnt toast that had been neglected in favour of fleshing the idea further.

"The White Lady," She read aloud, the concept sounding foreign on her tongue. One of the historians at the University had told her that many in the Old World had feared the White Lady; the ghost of a woman who had met her untimely end. Although Mnemosyne was surprised such a plot hadn't been picked up by one of those pathetic little sitcom studios, she had recognised it for what it was: a new way to torture her tributes.

"Who's to say she needs to be pale and ghostly?" Mnemosyne asked aloud, speaking to nobody in particular yet letting the avoxes listen on. "I'm sure some of the tributes would be so happy to see their mothers again, or their sisters. Maybe a friend..."

She fell silent, the scratching of pen on paper replacing the hitch of excited breath.

Odysseus Augur, President of Panem, 47

January 115 ADD

If he was frank, Odysseus never had any high expectations of Mnemosyne's arenas. She walked on eggshells whenever the younger Gamemaker - Winterelle? Winternelle? Whatever her name was - created the gorgeous arenas, scared of what he'd do. He, naturally, wore an expressionless smile just to keep the playing field always tipped in his favour; just like the other Presidents had done before him, and how the Presidents after him would continue to do.

No, Odysseus had kept Mnemosyne as the Head Gamemaker when he inherited the coveted presidential spot because she made the Games exciting with her mind tricks. Being named after an old titaness of memory was fitting, Odysseus presumed - the horrors she unleashed on her Victors stayed with them for years to come. He even remembered stories of Mnemosyne's first year as a Gamemaker; so horrifyingly clever and brutal with the tactics that kept the Capitol on the edge of their seats.

He knocked on her door, his leather glove muffling what otherwise would've been an echo against the marble door. Odysseus enjoyed arriving unannounced: what better way to get the true scope of how things were progressing? He knew people in his circle hated it - Mnemosyne had gently told him as much - but he disregarded them. He, unlike them, had nobody to direct him. Wherever he wanted to go, whatever he wanted, he simply got.

"One moment!"

Odysseus recognised the cordial tone Mnemosyne used straight away. It was one she employed for a variety of reasons; it was her Victor discussion voice, her false courtesies greeting voice, her announcer voice, the voice she used when being interviewed by the Master of Ceremonies but, most importantly, it was the voice she used when she needed to evaluate the scenario she found herself in.

It took the Head Gamemaker a moment to come to the door, the weight feeling far too prolonged for Odysseus' liking. He reasoned she was likely working away and, as instructed, had to ensure everything was hidden when receiving guests. Of course, had she known it was him then the effort would be for nought but that would give her too much of an advantage over him.

After a few moments, the door opened and Mnemosyne's familiar tan skin came into view. Unlike some who, when he visited unannounced, needed to conceal whatever betraying emotions of their heads that were written plainly on their faces, Mnemosyne offered an easy smile. She was used to this, both his arrivals but playing along. President Barmine had been a particularly hard person to charm, yet she had allowed Mnemosyne to become a Gamemaker despite being a newly grad. Odysseus had been told by his council that underestimating the Head Gamemaker was a mistake to avoid.

"Odysseus," Mnemosyne said, curtseying slightly out of respect. Formalities of President Augur and Ms. Tanana had long since left their private vocabulary. Her smile was unreadable, a simple projection of neutrality. "Always such a pleasant surprise."

"Oh Mnemosyne, you flatter me." Odysseus' words were easy, a tone of amusement nestled underneath the courtesies. "I was in the area and, well, I just had to come and see how progress is coming along."

Mnemosyne's smile didn't twitch, nor did she tilt her head in a questioning manner. Instead, she nodded and her smile grew as she stepped aside. "Of course." A familiarity returned to her tone, as if she was a little relieved that she wasn't to be rounded up and arrested for some crime. Not yet, Odysseus often thought to himself.

He refamiliarized himself with her apartment - truly a nice one, bought with the financial compensation District Twelve had paid for their murder of the late Asteria Tanana - and took seat in the cozy comforter next to the window.

"Have you decided a theme?" Odysseus' eyes shimmered with anticipation. Mnemosyne had a penchant for choosing a word and using that as a basis for her cruel, twisted games. Last year, for dear Axis of Five, the word had been Occhiolism; the reminder that one's perspective was small and insignificant. A reminder to the Districts, that they would be small and insignificant if they tried to rebel once more.

Mnemosyne hummed knowingly as she poured him a cup of his favourite iced bluebell tea. Though she had long since forgone remembering every detail of his life, the Gamemaker still kept in tune to what he liked and disliked, adding a few petals of the flower to his tea like he had begun to do.

"I do," She said, lips upturned in mirth. She outstretched her arm but was conscious to leave the saucer just out of his own arm's reach. "Serpentine."

Odysseus raised an eyebrow, leaning forward and taking the saucer from her. For a brief second, the reminder that the Queen was a far more mobile chess piece than the King flickered between both their heads. They were, for as long as they chose to, bound to one another. Or, at least, that's what Odysseus told her.

"To be shrewd, wily or cunning," Mnemosyne continued, gingerly fishing her notebook from where it led unceremoniously on a cushion next to her. She flicked through pages and pages of notes - Odysseus could appreciate her dedication to the job - until she landed on a double spread. She glanced around the room at the various avoxes that littered the room, a silent command for them to take their leave. They did, naturally, for the intentions of Mnemosyne Tanana, when she wanted you to know them, were abundantly clear.

She slid the book across the crystalline glass table, letting Odysseus come to speed with how she intended to torture the Districts once more.

"Our Victor may spur an increase in funding of the mental health facilities for the Victors," Mnemosyne grinned in a low voice, an eyebrow raised as if to challenge Odysseus to tell her the Victor would need no such thing. "But, if they play the game, it will be warranted."

"Memorable?" Odysseus asked plainly.

"A Games for the ages, Odysseus."

To be honest the one thing I really wanted to convey here was that Mnemosyne isn't as sweet or demure as she's been portrayed so far; she's more than the woman who's kind to the avoxed version of an old friend, more than the apprehensive Head Gamemaker on the day of the finale. She's very much someone that even Odysseus would think twice of crossing. We'll learn more about here I'm sure!

If you're still reading this, unsure if you want to submit a kiddo or are stumbling across this for the first time, welcome! Please do throw a kid or two into these Games! We're kind of at a standstill at the moment since no other District (bar Eight, which is last chapter!) has been completed so any submissions are appreciated!

I hope y'all enjoyed B)

- Oli