DISTRICT EIGHT
Of all the Districts she'd seen so far, District Eight was the one most like home. It was urban, just like Six - factories pumped their fumes into the air, and the sky was choked with smog, just like at home. The main difference, though, was the people. The population was far smaller, and Iris could tell that morphling was not an issue here. The people, though thin and underfed, were not wasting away as so many people in Six were. They weren't yellowing, their faces weren't pinched from opiates. Eight was like the healthier twin of District Six, like some alternate dimension where no one had ever touched morphling. It was disconcerting.
From her first glance at it, Iris had not expected to enjoy Eight as much as she did. After the speech - which was horrible, considering that Iris had killed Tonia - she was shown around the factories, which produced every kind of fabric under the sun.
The markets were where District Eight truly shone, though. The shops weren't exclusively indoors, like at home - instead, some sellers gathered in outdoor areas and alleyways, showing their wares on tabletops underneath colourful canopies of fabric. And the fabric - it was to die for. Bolts of fabric in every imaginable colour. Cotton and lace and the purest of silk. Iris thought that she could spend hours with the fabric alone, feeling the difference between them, absorbing the brilliant colours into her skin. Silk was by far her favourite. She loved how it felt almost watery between her fingertips.
She had no idea how to sew, but she bought a bolt of greenish-grey silk anyway - perhaps Emily could help her with it. The colour reminded her of morning mist. She also bought copious amounts of coloured yarn for her aunt, remembering that Emily had once mentioned knitting. For Jordie, she bought a pair of bright red canvas sneakers that she knew he would love. He would definitely wear them more than the cowboy boots.
District Eight's only Victors were Bobbie Boags and Woof Andersson. Like many of the older Victors, she didn't know the exact year they had won - Bobbie and Woof had been around as long as she could remember. She had a feeling that Woof had won a few years after the tenth, and Bobbie was around the same age as Haylee, so they must have been within a few years of each other.
Bobbie and Haylee eyed each other somewhat coolly over the dinner table. They hadn't talked during the tour, and Iris wondered what kind of bad blood there was between them. It wasn't entirely surprising to Iris that Haylee wasn't friends with all of the Victors. In all honesty, she had been surprised that Haylee was friends with any of them at all.
Iris was more interested in watching Woof. He had a very expressive face - she could almost tell what he was thinking. He looked between the two women, as if he was wondering whether he should say something or not - he ultimately decided against it, and trained his eyes on Iris. "So, Iris. I like your paintings."
"Thank you," Iris said.
"Have you been painting for long?" Woof asked, raising one hairy eyebrow. It looked like a caterpillar.
"Not at all." She didn't want to meet his eyes. She got the strange impression that if she did, he would be able to read all of her thoughts. Instead, she stared at a small scar, just above his left eyebrow. "I started after I got home."
"Well, you must be quite talented. I would have thought you'd been painting for years."
Iris shrugged. "I guess I just practice a lot. I don't have much else to do." He must have got the scar sometime after his Games, or they would have erased it with the rest of his injuries. She'd never noticed it before, when he was on TV, but it didn't look new - maybe they had some sort of editing software they used before broadcasting pre-recorded programs.
Woof smiled slightly. "Yes, it's a blessing and a curse, isn't it? I never realised how long a lifetime was until I didn't have anything to pass the time."
Iris could feel the daydream starting to take her away - she didn't want to lose focus. It happened at home a lot, when she was talking to her family - she would become hyper-focused on something and would find herself unable to leave it behind. But she didn't want to be rude. She didn't want the Victors to think she was weird before she'd even gotten to know them. She pinched her leg, hard, and the sting of it brought her back to where she was. She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet Woof's eyes. "What's your Victor talent?"
"I dabbled in visual arts, but it wasn't for me," Woof said.
"Now he writes novels," Bobbie interjected. She smiled across the table at Iris. "They're quite good."
"Just 'quite'? Your praise means the world to me, Roberta."
"Oh, shut up Woof," Bobbie replied, rolling her eyes. "They're good. Is that better?"
"Much better, thank you."
"What are your books about?"
"They're mysteries, mostly. I love a good whodunnit."
"I'll have to read them sometime."
Woof laughed. "They're probably not worth your time. People in the Capitol like them, but I write them for me. I don't worry too much about making them good."
"Is your real name Roberta?" Iris asked, looking at Bobbie. "I've never heard you called that."
"Yeah," Bobbie said, rolling her eyes. "Named after my son of a bitch father. Only Woof is allowed to call me Roberta."
"She puts up with it."
"I put up with a lot from you."
Woof winked at Iris conspiratorially. "She loves me," he whispered loud enough for Bobbie to hear him.
Bobbie rolled her eyes. "Anyway. We were talking about you, Iris, before Woof started carrying on. I do apologise. Tell me about your art. What kind of paint do you use?"
"Oh. Um, acrylics, mostly, but I've been learning how to use oils, which is fun. I tried watercolours but they annoyed me too much. Much harder to control."
"Do you use any other mediums? Charcoal, sculpture…?"
"I like sketching. But I haven't really used much else. I should probably try some new things."
"Well, whatever you're doing is working. Your paintings are very beautiful. I'd love to buy one sometime."
Iris shook her head. To profit off something she would never have been able to make if people hadn't died… it would feel wrong. Exploitative. "You don't have to buy one, I'll just give you one. Or paint you one. What do you like?"
"No, no, don't be silly. Artists should always be compensated for their work. We'll talk sometime, about a price. I assume you don't have an agent yet?"
"I didn't know I was meant to have one," Iris admitted.
"I'm sure they'll assign you one. The Capitol takes Victor talents very seriously. Pomponia will take care of you."
"What's your talent?"
"Embroidery," Bobbie said, with a scowl. "I don't care much for it. But it's all I knew how to do at the time and I suppose I just never got around to choosing another one."
"If you don't like it, why do you keep doing it?"
"Well, I like holding classes on it. I go to the schools sometimes, teach the kids, though most of them already know how. But I like teaching them how to embroider creatively rather than commercially. Most embroiderers here don't know how to do that."
"Maybe I can teach you how to paint sometime, and you can see if you like that more."
"That's very kind of you to offer. Thank you, Iris."
Iris liked Bobbie and Woof so far, but it was somewhat unnerving, talking to them like they were friends after what she had done. She had killed Tonia, after all, and none of them had even mentioned it. For the next ten minutes, Iris stabbed peas with her fork, while staring down at her plate and debating whether or not to bring it up.
She watched Bobbie and Woof chat to Pomponia and Eight's mayor for a few more minutes before she decided she couldn't take it anymore. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she blurted out. Suddenly, everyone's eyes were on her, and she felt embarrassed. She looked down at her plate again, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. "I don't understand," she mumbled. "I killed Tonia. And the rest of your district seems to hate me. So why don't you?"
"We don't hate you," Woof said. "It's not your fault."
"Of course it's my fault," Iris scoffed.
"Well," said Woof, lowering his voice. "Not really."
Iris wasn't sure what he meant. "You haven't even mentioned her to me. So you obviously hold it against me in some way."
"Tonia's the closest we've been to winning in a long time," Bobbie said, staring down at her hands. She looked up again at Iris, and forced a smile onto her face. "Not that we blame you, of course. It's not your fault. It was self-defence. She attacked you first."
"I didn't have to kill her, though," Iris said. "I could have just knocked her out."
"Of course you had to kill her," Haylee scoffed. "We've been over this. It's the whole reason you kids are put in that damn place. To kill each other."
Bobbie narrowed her eyes. "It's strange, Haylee," she said sharply, "to hear that you care about the children so much all of a sudden, considering you've done nothing for your tributes in the twenty or so years I've known you."
"Shut up, Roberta," Haylee sneered. "I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Iris. I am her mentor, you know."
"Could have fooled me. It's not like you did any mentoring at all when she was in the arena."
"How was I supposed to know she would win? If I had, I might have tried to help her a bit more."
"It's your job to do that regardless of whether you think they'll win or not."
Iris got the sense, suddenly, that they were no longer talking about her. It seemed as though she'd unearthed a decades-old argument entirely accidentally. She glanced at Pomponia, who shook her head slightly, and continued eating. Evidently, she'd heard this one before.
"I don't think I need you to tell me how to do my job. Considering you've never brought a tribute home."
Bobbie stood up. Her chair screeched on the floorboards. "Don't you dare," she said, glaring at Haylee.
"They've all died, just like mine. So I guess you're not much better than me, are you? In fact, maybe you're worse."
"Stop talking," Bobbie hissed.
"Haylee," Pomponia said warningly.
Haylee ignored her. "I actually got one out, after all. You've been around longer than I have and you've never managed that. What are you doing wrong, Roberta?"
"Shut up."
"Haylee, stop," Iris said nervously; there was fire brewing behind Bobbie's eyes.
Haylee didn't seem to hear her. Her eyes gleamed as she delivered the final blow. "Maybe you're just not trying hard enough."
Bobbie's hand connected with Haylee's face in one sharp, loud slap. Haylee looked momentarily stunned, but also somewhat pleased with herself. Iris felt disgusted by her.
"Oh, honestly, Roberta!" Woof cried, grabbing Bobbie's elbow as she wound it back for another slap. "Get a hold of yourself!"
"Shut your face, Woof," Bobbie hissed. She shook her arm out of his grip. "I apologise, Iris. I'll see you next year." With a final venomous glare at Haylee, Bobbie strode out of the room.
Woof motioned to one of the attendants standing by the door, his face thunderous. "Would you please get some ice?"
Haylee waved him away. "I'm fine."
"Good," said Woof. He glared at her. "I hope it bruises, you miserable cunt."
Pomponia made a shocked noise. "For goodness' sake!" Considering she'd looked after Haylee for years, she still didn't do very well with profanity.
Woof stood up. He offered his hand first to Pomponia, and then to Iris, who was feeling slightly trembly. Woof's grip was tight but not painful. "I sincerely apologise for how this turned out. And I am even more sorry that you were stuck with that bitch for a mentor. It was very nice to meet you, but I must go check on Roberta."
"Oh. Yeah, of course. Bye Woof," Iris said. She watched him leave. She felt glued to her seat in shock. So much had happened in only minutes that she was finding it difficult to wrap her head around it.
"I hope you're happy, Haylee," Pomponia said, throwing down her fork. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"
Haylee smirked. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I just don't understand why you can't act like an adult for once instead of pushing everyone's buttons. All you do is antagonise."
"Yeah, yeah, I suck and I'm a horrible person, I've heard it all before. Shove it, Pomponia."
"Oh, will you both shut up?" Iris snapped. She was sick of it. She was sick of Haylee for being such a bitch, and she was sick of Pomponia always getting so worked up at things out of her control. Maybe it was because she'd been with them both 24/7 for the last couple of days, but she suddenly couldn't stand the thought of spending another second around their bickering. She pushed her chair out. "I'm leaving."
"Where are you going?" Pomponia asked.
"I don't know. Back to the train. See you later."
"But you will miss dessert!" Pomponia said.
Iris ignored her.
DISTRICT SEVEN
District Seven was completely unlike any district she'd seen so far. The first thing that hit her was the smell - the crisp scent of pine trees, something sweet she couldn't identify, and the bitter scent drifting over from the paper mills. The second thing she noticed was the colour. There were more shades of green than she'd ever seen in her life. It was beautiful. She had thought the air in the other districts was clear, but it was nothing like Seven. The air felt clean and crisp to breathe in, and Iris couldn't get enough of it.
The crowd glared up at her, as they had in Eight. Iris didn't think she would ever get used to it. Seeing pure hatred in the eyes of strangers. There was no point in wishing for forgiveness - she wasn't even sure she wanted to be forgiven - but the way some people looked at her now made her want to shrivel up and hide away. She could hardly stand it.
She hadn't been able to sleep much the night before. She had wondered about Thorn. Her second kill. The boy whose blood dripped down the side of a sand dune. Did he have a brother who looked just like him? A mother, a father, who weeped into their pillows every night? A sister who had sworn revenge on District Six, for taking him away from her?
Instead of the angry family she had imagined, the only person on Thorn's platform was a stooped-over, silver-haired old man. He muttered to himself, and Iris wondered if he had been like this before Thorn's death - or if it had been what tipped him over the edge. He seemed to be the only one in the District without hatred in his eyes for her.
The girl was called Tori. Her family glared at Iris like she had been the one to kill her, even though she had died at Malachite's hand in the Bloodbath. She had been the first to go. Iris could remember the spray of her blood across the sand. She could remember the coppery scent of it, too, but that didn't work - Tori had been too far away for Iris to possibly have been able to smell her blood.
Despite the fact she had killed Thorn, District Seven's Victors didn't seem to harbour any ill will towards her. She almost wished that they would. She wanted them to hate her as she hated herself for Thorn's death. But just like Bobbie and Woof, they waved away her attempts to apologise.
"Don't be ridiculous," Magnolia said. She was a striking woman, with a mane of silvery-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. "I have gotten very sick of the apologies, year after year after year. Sorry won't bring them back. Does it make you feel any better, in the end?"
"No," Iris said.
Magnolia smiled, and reached out, gently touching Iris' cheek. "Then what is the point of it?"
Blight hovered awkwardly around Iris and Magnolia on the tour of the district. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself, even though he had won a whole year ago, and certainly knew Magnolia by now. The other two Victors, Jamie and Oscar, were not as prominent in the public eye. Jamie had won sometime before Magnolia, and if her memory served her correctly, Oscar had won sometime in the forties. But Magnolia and Blight were clearly the favourites.
District Seven was beautiful. Iris sketched the vast forests, the paper mills churning in the distance, and Magnolia's infant granddaughter, Eurydice, who babbled and reached towards Iris with chubby fists. For Jordie, she bought a pair of beautifully carved clogs, and for Emily, a beautifully carved pair of knitting needles made of lacquered wood. For herself, she bought a journal of thick, creamy paper, better than any she could have found in the Capitol.
At the banquet, Iris was seated next to Magnolia's daughter, Sylvia, who was around Iris' age. She was a pretty girl - she looked like a younger clone of her mother. "How old is Eurydice?"
"Nearly one," Sylvia said, smiling. Eurydice was sleeping in Magnolia's arms, covered in a forest-green blanket.
"Where'd you get her name? I've never heard anything like it."
"Oh, in an old book. I picked it because it was unusual."
"It suits her." Iris was fascinated with Eurydice. She'd never been around babies before. She couldn't remember Jordie as a baby, and Emily had never had kids, so she'd never interacted with babies before. Eurydice was cute, but from how she fussed and cried during the tour, Iris knew she never wanted a baby of her own. The crying would get on her nerves.
Seven's banquet was far less awkward than most of the others had been. The atmosphere was lively, and the Justice Building was cosy, with wood panelling, and beautifully carved furniture.
Iris wondered where Eurydice's dad was. She suspected he was sitting at the table with her, based on how Blight and Sylvia kept looking at each other with flushed cheeks when they thought no one was watching. It certainly explained why Blight was so awkward around Magnolia. Also, Eurydice had Blight's nose.
It must have been kept very hush-hush, because she had never heard anything about Blight having a kid - for a fresh Victor, it was almost guaranteed to have been all over Capitol News. But if he was the father, it made sense why nobody knew about it. If it was known that both Eurydice's dad and her grandmother were Victors, it would be almost guaranteed that she would be reaped someday.
The thought of the tiny little baby Eurydice going to an arena someday was a horrible thought - though of course, everyone who had been in there with her was once that small. And she hadn't thought of them like that when she killed them.
DISTRICT FIVE
District Five surprised her. She had been picturing an industrial district, like her own. Instead, she was greeted with a clean, chilly city, and a view of the same lake she could see from the outskirts of Six on a clear day. She hadn't known they were on the same lake. She hadn't even known how close her district was to Five. It wasn't as though they could get to it easily, though - there was an expanse of wasteland between Six and the lake, and even if anyone managed to get over that, they would still have to swim. And Iris had never met anyone in her district who could swim.
Though she had killed neither of them, Uma and Isidore's families hated her. Of course they longed for one of their children to be standing where she was. She couldn't blame them for that. She was glad that they hated her.
Five's only Victors, Rosemary and Toby, were… unusual. There was something deeply unnerving in Rosemary's eyes. Toby didn't say much at all, and he smelt so strongly of alcohol Iris wouldn't have been surprised if he'd had a bath in the stuff.
Nevertheless, she vastly enjoyed the tour. It was also fascinating learning about all the different kinds of electricity Five produced. There was hydro-electric, of course, and nuclear - but Iris was also shown a solar farm, which was a wide expanse of solar panels atop a cliff near the lake. She had never really thought about how much energy it would take to power all of Panem. Apparently it took a lot, because most of District Five was dedicated to power plants, with a relatively small city for living space and shops. Even in the city itself, the roofs were covered in solar panels.
Five's banquet had none of the party atmosphere Seven had had. Ten minutes in, Toby was wasted, and Rosemary made no effort to talk to Iris or Haylee, instead staring off into the distance. Iris had just started to wonder if Rosemary was on some sort of drug, when she snapped to attention like someone had flicked her with a rubber band. "Were you in love with the girl from One?"
For a second, Iris hadn't realised that Rosemary was talking to her. She glanced at Haylee, who raised her eyebrows, and then looked back at Rosemary, who was waiting patiently for an answer. "What? Me? Agata? No."
"Are you sure?"
"Um, I think so." Iris frowned. "Why are you asking me this?"
"How strange," Rosemary said, ignoring Iris' question. "Did you know that your own mentor had a fling with a fellow tribute?"
Iris blinked. "Huh?"
"Shut the fuck up, Rosemary," Haylee snarled. "You freak."
"Yes, Haylee and her district partner, they were a thing, acted all lovey-dovey in front of the cameras. Of course it all came to an end when -"
"Stop talking," Haylee said, her voice low and dangerous. The whole situation was reminding her of what had happened with Bobbie in Eight - she found she didn't have much sympathy for Haylee as a result.
"-when she slit his throat in his sleep. He didn't even provoke her, did you know? He would have died for her and she killed him anyway-"
Rosemary was cut off when Haylee lunged across the table and wrapped her hands around her throat.
Pomponia shrieked. "Haylee! Let go of her this instant!"
Iris stared at them, frozen in her seat. Rosemary choked. She met Iris' eyes and grinned as her face went red. Haylee squeezed harder. Toby groaned from where he was lying on the floor. Pomponia screamed for help, smacking Haylee across the shoulders with her handbag to no avail. Rosemary was purple by the time the Peacekeepers pulled Haylee off her.
She coughed, still smiling.
/
Back on the train, Pomponia ranted and raved at Haylee, who stared bitterly at the wall across from her, sipping on her whiskey from time to time.
"You should know better - you know that Rosemary cannot control what she says - but you knew what you were doing - you should know better by now, Haylee, for Snow's sake!" Iris had never seen her so worked up.
Iris still felt frozen, even though it had been several hours. It had all happened in such a whirl. Rosemary's taunts, the speed at which Haylee had leapt across the table, Pomponia's screams. It reminded her fiercely and horribly of the Bloodbath.
Pomponia seemed to realise that there was no point berating Haylee. She deflated, as if all of the energy had been suddenly let out of her. "You are lucky," she said quietly, "that nobody cares about Rosemary." With that, Pomponia left the room, slamming the carriage door behind her in a very in-ladylike display.
Haylee glanced at Iris, who had hardly moved a muscle since they'd gotten back on the train. "Aren't you going to ask me about it?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Maybe."
"What's her problem with you, anyway? Rosemary?" There were a few Victors in particular Iris could see herself befriending. Haymitch, Seeder, Bobbie and Woof. Rosemary wasn't one of them. She didn't just not want to befriend Rosemary - she wanted to run as far away from her as she could. The way she had smiled at Iris, as the life was being choked out of her… Iris knew she would never forget it.
"She's just a bit fucked in the head," Haylee replied. "A few more screws loose than the rest of us. I bet it's the radiation."
Iris frowned. "Radiation?"
"Yeah, from the power plants," Haylee said. "I think everyone from five is born with a tail but the Capitol has them removed so the rest of us don't find out."
Iris nearly laughed at the absurdity of Haylee's statement. "I don't think so." Iris was pretty sure that Haylee was joking - but sometimes it was hard to tell.
"Well, you never know." Haylee took a sip of her whiskey. "Man, I fucking hate victory tours."
"How come I never knew this before? About your Games?" Iris wondered if Lyme knew. Lyme seemed to know everything about the other victors, even if she hadn't been a Victor for long.
"My Games aren't often rerun. I'm not interesting enough."
"But the District - why don't they hate you?"
"Oh, some of them do. Artin's family tried to kill me a few times. But you know what Six is like. No-one cares much about things they don't have to care about."
"Did you really have a thing for him?" Iris wasn't too sure why she was asking. It had been on her mind a lot, lately - relationships. What would it be like, to be in love with someone in the arena?
Haylee shrugged. "Initially I did, I suppose. But I think we were both just scared. About to die. We both wanted to cling to someone familiar. I don't think that's exactly what love is about."
"No, I don't think so."
"What do you know about love?" Haylee said. She didn't say it in a venomous way, as she so often did - instead, her voice was softer than Iris had ever heard it.
"Nothing much," Iris said honestly. What could she say? She hadn't ever dated anyone. Kissed anyone. She'd never even had a crush, not that she could recall, anyway. She had never had time to pursue that kind of thing, but she had been thinking about it recently. Maybe, if she wasn't still trying to figure out how to live after the Games, it would be something she would want.
"Yeah, same here."
"What about you and my aunt -" Iris started to ask.
"That's not love. She's too good for me. We're both just lost." Haylee drained the rest of her glass. Iris knew that Haylee would never have been this vulnerable with her if she hadn't been drinking her feelings for the last hour and a half. "How bout' you, Iris? Anyone you're kissing?"
"No."
"Anyone you want to kiss?"
Iris scowled. She and Haylee were friends now, sure, but they weren't that close. "None of your business."
"Ah, so there is!" Haylee said with glee.
Iris furrowed her eyebrows. She'd never get used to seeing Haylee like this. 'This' being not completely closed-off and bitter. She could almost get a glimpse of what Haylee must have been like, once, before the Games. Had she had friends, once? A family? "Not really."
"Now, who could it be?" Haylee said. "I never see you go out of the house, so it's not anyone from home. Perhaps it's a friend of yours, someone in Tw-"
"Okay!" Iris said, standing up. "Goodnight, Haylee!"
She did not have the capacity to continue that conversation. Not after what had happened at dinner, and certainly not with Haylee, who was perhaps the last person Iris had ever expected to have a discussion about love with.
DISTRICT FOUR
She clutched at the spear going through her chest. She could feel blood pooling in her lungs. Malachite, still alive somehow, vomited blood into Iris' eyes. She sobbed, and pushed him off her. Without the spear holding him together, his body fell to pieces.
She could hear Scorah crying, but where was she? She couldn't see. There was too much blood in her eyes. Scorah's sobs grew louder, and Iris realised that Scorah was impaled on the spear too. They were stuck together, and Rosemary was holding the end of it, smiling at them both. Scorah and Iris clung to each other, terrified of what Rosemary was about to do to them.
Iris thought that she could probably end up justifying what she had done in the arena, if she thought about it hard enough. She could tell herself that her actions were self-defence. That it wasn't technically murder. She knew that she could easily make herself feel better about it - but she didn't want to feel better about it. That wouldn't be fair. It would be too easy to excuse herself for what she had done rather than take accountability for what she was - a murderer. She had chosen her life over someone else's five times, and she was determined to never justify that choice to herself. Because then it would be like their deaths had a purpose and they hadn't - she had killed them so she could stay alive and that was as deep as it went. Iris wanted to feel bad about it because what kind of person would she be if she didn't?
She wondered what the Careers thought about it all. Whether they felt the same guilt she did, or if they viewed the whole thing differently. As much as she had grown up hating the Careers, Iris was beginning to see them in a different light - what must it be like, to be brainwashed into believing a death match was one's only purpose in life? What would that do to a person?
She knew that some of them, at least, had woken up to what it was all really about. That it wasn't about glory, or sacrifice, or district honour. Lyme certainly seemed bitter about what she had done in the Games, how she had spent her life so far, but of course Iris didn't know her well enough yet to say for sure.
Regardless of how she once felt about Four, the Victors were pleasant. After the speeches, which weren't as horrible as she had expected - she had killed Scorah, and had contributed to River's demise, but apart from the families, not many looked at her with hatred. Perhaps it was the Career mindset. It wasn't as personal for them, like it was in Seven or Eight.
The tour started on the beach, and Iris thought that the ocean was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She had often felt jealous of the other districts, when she was younger. In time, she had outgrown that jealousy, but some of it came back when she saw the ocean for the first time. The sea glittered like sapphires, and Iris would have stared at it all day long if there wasn't a schedule to follow.
Attached to the Justice Building was an aquarium, sponsored by Mags herself. There were animals in there Iris had never heard of before, like octopuses and harlequin shrimp and rainbowfish. She had a great time sketching the strange, wonderful animals.
"There's much more of a party here than there was in Five," Iris said, looking around. The banquet here was different - it wasn't just Victors, mayors, and escorts - there were Capitol liaisons, and rich merchants, and a handful of strong-looking teenagers Iris assumed were District Four's future volunteers. She watched them from afar. Maybe she would recognise some of them next year.
"Just wait til' you get to One and Two!" Douglas replied. "They know how to party." Iris liked Douglas. He was warm, and treated her like she was his friend though they had only met once. Sitting between him and Mags, Iris felt more at home than she had in any other district.
"I'm sure," Iris said. She could hardly wait to get to Two - mainly because of Lyme. But Three would be interesting, too.
DISTRICT THREE
Iris didn't learn how the kids from Three died, but she did learn their names. Ruby and Newton. Their families gazed at her unfeelingly, and she looked back at them with guilt.
The Threes were an odd bunch, but far more welcoming than the Fives had been. Calcula Rhee from District Three - the presenters on television always said her name in a sing-songy voice - didn't introduce herself, but rushed up to Iris with enthusiasm. She started talking the moment they locked eyes. "Bobbie told me you were thinking about selling your paintings. I know a fantastic gallery director in the Capitol, I'll let her know you're looking for an agent."
"Oh, sure," Iris said, overwhelmed. "You don't have to." A girl around Jordie's age was lingering shyly behind Calcula.
"No, no, I want to, and paintings like yours have to find good homes." Calcula smiled at her, and let go of her hand. Iris had forgotten she was holding it. "Allow me to introduce my daughter, Ada." Calcula shoved the girl forwards.
Her shyness seemed to evaporate the moment Iris smiled at her. Ada smiled widely back. "It's great to meet you! I like your paintings too. Does your brother play the guitar?"
"You too, um - thank you. And yes, he does, how did you know that?"
"There was sheet music in his room. I saw it on TV. I like music too."
"And she's very good at it," Calcula added in, nudging Ada.
"Mom!" Ada whined. "Anyway, I got him a present. We had it sent to the train because it's big."
"Oh. Thank you. You didn't have to do that. What is it?"
"An electric guitar! I'm glad that he does actually play the guitar or I would have spent my allowance for nothing. Phew!"
"Well, he'll be very happy," Iris said truthfully. "It's very kind of you to think of him." She had the feeling that if Ada was from home, she would be friends with Jordie. She sort of reminded Iris of Mercedes - only much more of a chatterbox.
"What kind of music does he play? I like old music, but it's hard to get sheet music for, so I mostly just learn Capitol songs. I can give you some sheet music too, if he can read it, it's really hard to read though so he might not know how-"
"Ada," Calcula interrupted. "That's enough questions. Iris still has to meet Beetee, and we're going to make everyone late for the tour!"
"Oh! Okay. Talk to you later, Iris!" Ada smiled at her as her mother led her away.
When they were gone, Iris breathed a sigh of relief. "She's very energetic, isn't she?" Beetee said from beside her. Iris jumped. She hadn't seen him. He cringed. "I'm sorry. I thought you saw me."
"It's okay," Iris said, her heart pounding. "Um, nice to meet you. I'm really excited for the tour."
"It's nice to meet you too. Wiress sends her apologies - she's recovering from an illness, and wasn't up for the tour today. You will, however, meet her at dinner."
"Oh, that's okay," Iris said. She remembered that Wiress' parents had died in an 'accident' not long ago. "Is she alright?"
"She will be," Beetee said solemnly.
She very much doubted it had been an accident - especially considering the number of Peacekeepers that had shown up for the tour. Far more than were necessary for three harmless-looking Victors. Perhaps they weren't quite playing along as well as Snow wanted them to.
/
District Three wasn't as alike to Six as Iris had always thought it was. It had factories, yes, and the people were crammed into a city too small for the population, but that was about it. District Three, for one thing, was clean. Beetee told her that, a few years back, he developed an advanced ventilation system for the factories, which somehow filtered out the pollutants before they entered the atmosphere. "It's not perfect," he admitted, "but it's a lot better than it was before."
"And he paid for all the installation himself," Calcula added.
"Well," said Beetee. "It's important to invest in STEM."
It was interesting to learn where the Capitol's gadgets really came from. Iris wondered how many poor inventors in Three had their work stolen from them, the credit going to some rich merchant or foreman or Capitolite. That was another thing Three probably had in common with home.
Instead of shoes, Iris bought Jordie an antique radio, which the very delighted shopkeeper told her was a refurbished one from the Old Days. It was a strange-looking thing, so much clunkier than the ones she'd seen in the Capitol, but she knew Jordie would love it. For Emily, she bought a delicate silver wristwatch. She would probably never be able to wear it out of the house if she didn't want it to get stolen, but oh well.
/
At the banquet, she sat next to Wiress.
"You wanted to meet me?" said Wiress quietly. She was a small, pale girl, with eyes so big and dark they were slightly unnerving. Iris felt like she would fall into them. "Lyme told me."
"Oh," Iris said, suddenly feeling shy. "Yeah. I, um, I liked your traps. They were very smart."
"Thank you," Wiress said, smiling. "I copied Beetee."
"They weren't just copies," Beetee said, glancing at her. "You made them better. More delicate. They were immaculate."
"You were the ideas-"
"And you were the one to improve upon them."
"Which I couldn't have done without-"
"Alright, you two," Calcula interrupted. "We've all heard this conversation before. If your brilliant minds haven't come up with a compromise by now, they certainly won't find one right now."
"Yes," Wiress said quietly. "You're right."
"I apologise. We get distracted, sometimes."
"Your names rhyme," Ada interrupted. "Iris, Wiress. Iris, Wiress. That's fun. You're like twins."
Iris smiled at her twin, who smiled back. "I guess now we have to be friends." They looked nothing alike, of course - Iris was about twenty centimetres taller than Wiress - but maybe they could pretend. For Ada, at least.
"Friends. I would like that. You should-" Wiress began to say, before staring off into the distance.
"Call," Beetee finished for her.
Iris wondered why Wiress spoke the way she did, in her fragmented, breathy sentences. Had she always been like that? Or had something happened in her Games? "I will. I only talk to Lyme and Pomponia on the phone, so it would be nice to talk to someone else for a change."
"Lyme is a nice girl," Beetee said, nodding.
"Tells us all about her hobbies," Wiress added.
"Like that game of hers?"
"Chess," said Wiress vaguely.
"Yeah, chess."
"Chess is a brilliant strategy game," Beetee said. "Lyme is very clever. I thought I was good at chess, until I met her."
"She's tried to explain it to me," Iris said, "but it's hard to visualise over the phone."
"Well, it's easy to learn the pieces and their functions, but learning the strategies is where it gets hard."
"Do you play?"
"Of course. Chess teaches more than just strategy. Everyone should learn."
"Well, I'll have to have a game with you then, when I learn the rules."
"Sounds like a plan," Beetee smiled.
/
"Well, I'm glad that's over," Haylee said, once they were back on the train.
"Oh, shush," Pomponia admonished. "They are lovely people."
"Calcula and Bobbie are close, so I automatically don't like her. Plus her kid's annoying. And Nuts and Volts are just weird."
"Nuts and Volts?" Iris asked, frowning.
"Nuts is Wiress because she's loopy. Volts is Beetee because… well, I'm sure you've seen his Games."
"Yeah," Iris said. "Everyone's seen Beetee's Games." She'd had nightmares for years as a kid, about the Careers frozen to the spot and silent as the volts of electricity fried them from the inside out. She remembered sparks shooting out of their fingers and their hair sticking up straight, but perhaps that was a detail her brain had added in later. It was strange to think that the quiet, nerdy guy she'd met was capable of creating a weapon like that. "Well, Nuts and Volts or not, I like them."
DISTRICT TWO
District Two's Justice Building was beautiful. It reminded Iris of a temple she'd seen in a book once, somewhere beyond Panem. Malachite's parents seemed disinterested in her - she hadn't killed him, but he had been so close to winning that she had expected them to hate her in some way. But they didn't even look at her.
Minerva had no-one. Iris had never thought she would feel sorry for the brutal, vicious girl from Two - but seeing her empty platform certainly explained how she had ended up in the arena. She must have gone to the 'boarding school' Lyme hated so much.
After the speeches, Lyme gave her a firm hug. "How've you been?"
"Oh, you know," Iris said drily. "Thriving."
"Just as I suspected," Lyme replied with a laugh.
District Two wasn't quite what she had expected. It was far more spread out than the other districts - there was a large town centre at the base of one of the mountains, where the Justice Building and Victors' Village was located. Iris didn't see anything resembling an academy, so she assumed it was kept separate from the main part of the district, so the students had plenty of room.
A large part of the tour was dedicated to Two's many mines and quarries. Iris had never known there were so many kinds of rocks. Instead of listening, however, to the droning tour guide, Iris spent much of the tour catching up with Lyme. Iris had been worried that she would feel awkward around Lyme in person again - they had only technically met once after all - but talking to her felt natural and easy.
"How's your brother?" Lyme asked.
Iris shrugged. "He's a teenager. He's at the stage where being around me is embarrassing for him, so he spends a lot of time in his room. But he's good. We still talk."
"I'm jealous. I barely have a relationship with my siblings. Must be nice," Lyme said wistfully.
"What's your family like, Lyme?"
"Well, my parents work in a quarry way on the other side of the district. A bit like this one," she said, gesturing to the granite quarry they were currently in, "but more of a shithole. There's a big gap between me and my younger siblings. My parents didn't want a kid when they had me, so they shipped me off to the academy as soon as I was old enough."
"That must have been hard," Iris said, feeling a pang of sympathy for her friend. She had known, growing up, that she was wanted. Her parents told her and Jordie every day how loved they were. Of course, that had gone to shit when their mom died… but at least at some point in time they had been wanted. She couldn't imagine never having that. What would that have done to Lyme?
Lyme only shrugged. "I guess. It wasn't that bad honestly. I loved the academy, made lots of good friends. It would have been nice to know my siblings a bit better, though. Only seeing them once a year makes it hard to connect."
"What's the age gap?"
"Well, Breccia's six years younger than me, she's fifteen. And Marl is ten years younger than me, he's eleven. I see them at the end of every year, send them money every month, but they're not that interested in me."
"I'm sorry."
Lyme shrugged. "No need to be. Lots of careers have the same story. The victors are my family."
"Are you still friends with the kids you were in the academy with?"
"Yeah, some of them are my neighbours. Well, Brutus is. I guess we weren't friends back then though. Most of the people in my age group are either dead or Peacekeepers. I keep in touch with one or two of them, but not really."
/
"Lyme's not boring you, is she?" Brutus asked with his mouth full. He was sitting across the table from Iris and Lyme. She hadn't met all of Two's victors, but of the ones she had, Brutus was the friendliest. He was cocky and loud, true, but he wasn't quite as brutish as his name suggested.
"Close your mouth or food will fall out, pig," Lyme said.
Iris smiled. "No. We're friends."
"Yeah, she's always talking about you. Gets pretty boring."
Lyme elbowed him, her cheeks slightly pink. "Shut up, Brute, I do not."
Iris felt her face begin to heat up. She always worried that people only pretended to like her to be nice. But maybe Lyme was genuine. She certainly seemed genuine, but Iris worried about it anyway.
The banquet in Two was unlike any of the others she had been to on the tour so far. It was far less of a formal dinner and far more of a raging party. Like in Four, a large number of attendees seemed to be Capitolites - judging by the fashion and hair dos - as well as a percentage of the district's upper class. The dinner itself only had Victors, the mayor, and the escorts in attendance, but after that, the building was opened up to the rest of the guests, and the party began.
Thumping music and strobe lights filled her eyes and her ears, and after a few drinks, Iris found herself forgetting. Forgetting that Agata's district was next. Forgetting the faces of the kids she'd killed. Minerva, Malachite, Scorah and River… the four of them faded from her mind as the alcohol entered her blood and the music entered her ears. Occasionally, people approached her, but they couldn't hear her over the music anyway, so she was mostly left alone. It was refreshing, being able to lose herself in the music. Like she wasn't anyone special. Like she hadn't done the things she did.
She wondered if that was how Lyme felt. Iris watched her dance. Lyme's eyes were closed, and flickers of blue and pink and green danced across her face as the lights changed. She moved her body so gracefully, the way only someone with years of training in sparring could. Iris was content just to watch Lyme dance at first, but soon found herself swept up in the music as well.
Soon, though, she started to feel overwhelmed. It became too hot to dance, the lights were too bright, the alcohol was churning uncomfortably in her stomach. She tapped Lyme on the arm. "I WANT TO GO OUTSIDE FOR A BIT!" she yelled.
"WHAT?" Lyme yelled back.
Iris pointed to the door. "OUTSIDE!"
Lyme nodded, and grabbed Iris' hand, pushing through the crowded room. There was a small garden attached to the Justice Building, and apart from a few smokers, Iris and Lyme were the only ones out there. Out of the dark, Iris was suddenly very aware of how sweaty and gross she was. She didn't usually worry about her appearance, but she wanted to look good for Lyme.
Lyme didn't mention it - she looked pretty sweaty herself. She dug a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket and offered one to Iris, who accepted. "So did Haylee ever end up talking to you about what we have to do in the Capitol?" she asked, fiddling with the lighter.
"You mean the whole prostitution thing?" Iris asked. Lyme nodded. "Well, I don't know so much as talk rather than 'drunkenly announce' but yeah, I guess we talked about it, if you consider that a conversation." Lyme offered her the lighter, and Iris leaned towards it. She took a grateful breath in. She didn't smoke much at home - only with Haylee - but the warmth of the cigarette was still welcome.
Lyme snorted. "Figures. I'm sorry you got stuck with her for a mentor." She lit her own cigarette and inhaled deeply.
Iris shrugged. Haylee was a bad mentor, sure, but she wasn't a bad person. She had helped Iris since the Games. "She's not all bad, surprisingly. She's good with Jordie." And Emily, Iris thought.
"That is a surprise," Lyme said. "I figured she just spent her days too drunk to do anything. Not that I don't," she added, "but at least I have hobbies."
"She's not drunk all the time at home. She gardens."
Lyme started to laugh. "She gardens?"
Iris grinned. "Yup."
"I don't believe you."
"She does! We get a basket of fresh vegetables every other week."
Lyme shook her head incredulously. "That's wild." Smoke curled out of her mouth.
She remembered how surprised she had been when she saw Haylee's garden for the first time. It was such an un-Haylee hobby, but she was very good at it. Iris made a mental note to show it to Lyme the next time she was in Six. Iris was sure she would be on another victory tour in a year or so. "Yeah, I thought so too."
"What have you been up to, anyway? Hobby-wise?"
"I've been painting and drawing," Iris replied. "I'm not that good but I'm getting better."
"You'll have to show me sometime."
"I'm sure you've seen them on TV," Iris replied. Footage from the interview at home had been all over the talk shows for awhile. Iris had been mortified - the paintings didn't look very good on television and now the whole country knew how much of a beginner she was.
"No. I want to see the art you do for yourself. Not for the Capitol."
Iris smiled. Out of everyone she knew, Lyme seemed to be the person who knew her the best. Even more than Jordie, who couldn't possibly understand how Iris was feeling after the arena. She felt a wave of affection for Lyme. It often felt like Lyme was the only one who understood her. "Lyme, I appreciate you."
Lyme snorted. "That's a weird thing to say."
"Well, I'm drunk. I can't help it." In all actuality, Iris wasn't drunk. She'd only a few drinks, and they hadn't done much except perhaps loosen her tongue a bit.
"Well, I appreciate you too, Iris."
Iris looked down at her feet. The question had been brewing for a while… perhaps the alcohol and the cigarette had made her brave, because she didn't try to talk herself out of asking it. "Lyme, what's it like?"
"What's what like?" Lyme asked, frowning.
"Sex," she replied quietly, still not looking up. She didn't want Lyme to see the blush that had no doubt appeared on her face.
"You've never had sex?" Lyme said incredulously.
"That a bad thing?" Iris was sure her face was scarlet.
"Well, no, of course not. Just, it's worse if you haven't done it before, I'm sure. When you're in the Capitol."
"You did it before the…?" Iris couldn't bring herself to say prostitution. Every time she said or heard it, a shiver ran down her spine.
Lyme nodded. "I did it before I went to the Games. With a guy I didn't like. And then with a girl I did like. It made it easier when I had to do it in the Capitol."
Iris felt her mind going around in circles. She felt impossibly awkward with what she was about to ask of her friend, but Lyme made her feel safe. She looked at her hands. Smoke curled from her half-smoked cigarette. "Will you show me?"
Lyme's mouth hung open. "You want to…?"
Iris nodded. "I like you, Lyme. I want it to be with someone I like, the first time."
Lyme's cheeks were pink, but she was probably just warm from the dancing. "I like you too, Iris. But we're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," Iris replied quietly. "Are you drunk?"
"No." Lyme took a small step closer to her. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't. But do you?"
"Well, yeah. Duh. You're hot and I like you."
Iris almost laughed. "I'm hot?" She'd never heard that before.
"Yes," Lyme replied, smiling. She stabbed the end of her cigarette on a wooden post, and flicked it into a nearby trash can.
"I think you're just about the only one who thinks that."
"That's not true. You're a warrior, strong and independent. What's not to like?"
"Well, thanks, Lyme. You're not so bad yourself."
Lyme put an arm around her. "I'm not going to initiate anything. If you want this, you take the lead."
"Okay," Iris said, her heart pounding in her chest. "Let's dance a bit first."
They merged back into the party. There was something about Lyme's strong hand in her own that gave Iris a sense of confidence, of self-assuredness she hadn't had before. Under the lights, with the pounding of music in her ears and the taste of alcohol in her mouth, Iris was almost able to forget about the Capitol.
They danced for a while, and Iris drank until she wasn't nervous or embarrassed anymore. She took Lyme's hand and led her away from it all, upstairs and into a bathroom. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but she liked how Lyme's hand felt in hers, and she wanted to know what it was like to feel Lyme all over her. "You okay?" she asked.
Lyme laughed. "I am. You seem nervous, though."
"You make me nervous," Iris said. She didn't quite feel nervous, but her heart was pounding in her chest and she was suddenly very aware of her skin.
"Do I?"
"Yeah. But not in a bad way."
Lyme laughed again, and placed a hand on Iris' cheek. "You know you don't have to do this."
Lyme's lips were pink, and Iris couldn't stop her eyes from wandering towards them. "Neither do you."
"I want to." Lyme traced a line up Iris' arm.
"So do I," Iris breathed.
"Then I guess we'd better stop talking," Lyme said.
Iris pulled Lyme towards her by the collar of her shirt, and closed the gap between them. Lyme's lips were surprisingly soft - surprising, because everything about Lyme felt tough, calloused, confident. But Lyme kissed her almost shyly. She was so gentle it was as though a feather was dancing across Iris' lips, and Iris wanted more. She had never kissed anyone before, but she found that it was mostly intuitive - she could feel Lyme's gentle breath on her face as she moved against her.
Iris kissed Lyme more firmly, and that seemed to give Lyme the encouragement she needed. Her hands dropped to Iris' waist, pulled her closer - and gradually they drifted upwards, drawing circles closer and closer to her breasts. Iris didn't feel nervous anymore - everything about this felt right, and she drank it in. Lyme smelt like apples and dirt, a strangely sweet and earthy scent that Iris found she liked.
Lyme stopped, suddenly, and Iris wondered why - Lyme leant down, and moved her lips to Iris' neck. She kissed her gently there, and then harder - Iris liked it a lot. Lyme didn't kiss her hard enough to leave a mark, and Iris almost wished she would - the Capitol would surely have something to fade it anyway - but there was something else she wanted more. Lyme's touch felt electric, like she was running a live wire through Iris' entire body.
"You okay?" Lyme asked.
"Don't stop," Iris whispered. An unbearable heat had pooled between her legs.
Lyme nodded and grinned; effortlessly, she lifted Iris onto the bathroom counter. She kissed her harder, one hand delicately creeping up Iris' thigh, the other tangled in her hair - Iris tried not to whimper at the combination of sensations Lyme was giving her. Goosebumps had formed all over her arms and legs, and she felt hot and prickly all over, especially between her legs. She had touched herself before, but it hadn't felt anything like this. She'd never thought much about sex. She'd never really been attracted to anyone before - and certainly not as much as she was to Lyme.
Iris wriggled out of the skirt she hadn't wanted to wear, suddenly grateful for it. She didn't have the patience for pants. Lyme nibbled on Iris' earlobe, and a sound she'd never heard herself make before burst from her lips before she could stop it. She liked everything about Lyme, but she hadn't known she liked her this much. Iris knew she was going to like her a whole lot more after they got this over with.
When Lyme eventually got to it, it didn't take long. Her fingers were strong and practised, her tongue even more so - Iris felt herself coming apart at Lyme's touch. She didn't understand how Lyme was so tough, so calloused, and yet so gentle at the same time - but the combination was intoxicating. Lyme's thumb pressed onto a sensitive spot, and Iris cried out as Lyme worked faster and faster. Iris trembled, and trembled, and then she felt the world explode.
Afterwards, she panted into Lyme's shoulder, leaning against her, breathing her in. Lyme pulled Iris against her, and they sat on the ground, Iris leaning into her; Lyme stroked Iris' hair. When Iris recovered, she looked up at Lyme. "That was…"
"You okay?"
"Better than okay."
Iris kissed her, and gently moved her hands to Lyme's waist. She wanted to do the same for Lyme - she wasn't sure how, but maybe Lyme could show her - but Lyme gently pulled away, pressing a kiss to Iris' forehead. "Not today. This was about you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Another time. How do you feel?"
"Happy."
They sat there for a while longer, talking and kissing, Lyme stroking Iris' hair. They knew they eventually had to rejoin the party, and so Iris spent a little while trying to put herself back together - when she eventually looked presentable, they returned to the party, hand in hand. Lyme handed her another drink. Iris still felt a bit weak in the knees.
Across from her, on the other side of the room, Iris somehow caught Pomponia's eye. The escort sent her a knowing look, and Iris could feel her face heating up. She looked away, sure she was blushing from head to toe. Pomponia would no doubt tease her about this eventually.
The party went on around them. Iris had a few more drinks, but stopped when she felt herself getting a bit too drunk - she wanted to remember everything about the night.
Lyme walked her back to the train, later, and said goodbye to her with one gentle, almost chaste, kiss. Out of sight of the cameras, of course. She didn't need to tell Iris what it would mean if the Capitol found out. They were both already extorted enough - maybe, Iris thought, this can be something that's just for us.
I've never written a sex scene before, I hope I did okay
Sorry it took me so long to update, I've really been struggling with my mental health and I went off writing for a bit, but I've trying to get back to it.