Orion Farr, 18
District Twelve.

Orion gently closed the front door behind him, cutting off the cool draft of air which drifted in from the nighttime outside. "Jess? You here?" he called as he carefully hung his bag up by the door, wringing his aching hands out.

"Jess?" Orion called again, and still receiving no answer he pushed further into the house. "Sorry I'm late-"

"She's not here," a soft voice responded from somewhere further in the shadows, causing Orion to nearly trip over himself in surprise. "Working late again."

"Shit," Orion grumbled; his sister had been working late most nights, despite Orion's insistence that she pass her extra shifts off to him. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"It's okay," Ky responded, emerging from the shadows as Orion flicked the hallway light on. "I wasn't sleeping, I was studying."

"Good," Orion bobbed his head, meeting the shorter boy's gaze. "Wouldn't want you to fail out now."

"No," Ky shook his head. "Jessie left us dinner in the fridge. Are you hungry?"

Orion shrugged and followed his friend into the kitchen, squeezing into his spot at the cramped table. It felt like the first time he'd sat in days. And it could've been, for all he knew; with how much he'd been working lately, days and nights were blending together into a haze of grey.

(Was it enough? Would it be enough to stop living day to day, paycheque to paycheque? To be stable?)

"Here, Ori," Ky said, sliding his plate onto the table. The clattering of the ceramic snapped Orion from his thoughts, and he looked up at Ky.

"Could've gotten it myself."

"I don't trust you to be able to get up again, though."

Orion only sighed at this, graciously taking the cutlery Ky also slid across to him. It wasn't his friend's job to take care of him - wasn't Ky's job to do anything but stay in school and avoid the Peacekeepers' attention - but still Orion found Ky outdoing himself. Occasionally he'd come home to all of his laundry done, folded, and put away just how he liked it, or find an extra apple packed into his lunch even though Orion hadn't put it there himself.

He just couldn't understand how, despite it all, despite everything Orion had done, Ky could still treat him with such care.

The pair ate in silence, Orion barely tasting any of the food. Meals were nothing but a barrier between him and going to bed. Not just that, it forced him to linger in Ky and Jessie's presence- and sticking around only made Orion want to say something to them. A plea, an apology, anything.

Still, every word stuck in his throat, leaving Orion to choke on everything he wanted to say.

"What?" Ky asked as if he knew what Orion was thinking.

"Nothing." Orion shook his head. "It's fine."

"Are you… sure? I mean, you've looked more tired than usual lately, and I'm trying to find something but-"

"It's fine," Orion insisted. "I meant it when I said you could stay as long as you needed to."

He didn't say that the last thing he wanted was to see another person taken from him. He couldn't bear to see Ky dragged out kicking and screaming by Peacekeepers like Vick had been, couldn't handle Ky drifting away as Theresa had, so slowly Orion hardly realized til she was gone.

Not like his parents, trapped in the mines when they'd caved in, leaving their children with hardly anything to bury after it was said and done.

"Ah… thank you," Ky responded, after a long pause. "Let me take your plate; I'll do the dishes."

"Okay," Orion whispered, sliding his plate across to his friend.

Ky quickly collected the dishes, finally turning his attention away from Orion as he filled the sink with water. Now that Ky wasn't focused on him, Orion wanted nothing more than to get up and flee. What if he slipped up? What if he said something he regretted and pushed Ky further away? No matter how much he wanted to be understood, it wasn't worth risking what little he had left.

(How could Orion be so lonely when Ky was so close?)

"Oh, I ran into town today for some stuff, yeah?" Ky remarked as Orion placed his forehead on the table. "And you wouldn't believe who I ran into."

"Hmm?"

"Theresa!"

"Theresa?" Orion exclaimed, half shooting out of his seat. He sat again before continuing. "What was she doing?"

"Shopping, for her uh… wedding? I think. She's engaged to that shopkeeper kid."

Orion grunted as he sank back down to the table. It'd been nearly a year since they'd last spoken, since Theresa had warned him she'd heard rumours that the Peacekeepers would be sweeping the District's streets for stray children. That if Ky was caught he'd be sent away just as Vick had been.

Two days later, Ky moved in with the Farrs. He'd been there ever since.

"She asked how you were doing, you know."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. I told her you were working in the mines full time. Figured that'd be enough."

"It was," Orion grunted. He took a moment, working up the resolve to stand as he pushed himself out of his seat.

"Going to bed?"

Orion only nodded, dragging his feet along the kitchen floor.

"Goodnight, then. I'll see you tomorrow," Ky called after him,

Orion had half a mind to respond, but found his thoughts wandering too quickly. Tomorrow, he had a trip to make into town. After all, it'd been too long since his last visit, and nothing worked to quell his anxiety quite as well as a visit to his parents.

Something told him that it wouldn't just be his parents Orion would visit.

Creeping through the house as quietly as he could, Orion carefully opened the front door; it always squeaked a bit if pushed too hard, and the last thing he wanted was to wake his sister when he was trying to slip away. With Jessie asleep and Ky in class, Orion had a rare, perfect chance to slip away unnoticed.

Carefully, as to not catch his bag on the handle, Orion slipped through the cracked door. With a sigh of relief, he closed it behind him and started down the path deeper into town. Orion certainly didn't mind the seclusion they found in the forest, but it made for a long walk back to the rest of Twelve. At the very least it wasn't winter- the snow doubled the time it took to get anywhere, and the biting, cold wind only made things worse.

It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes before Orion found himself in town. It was late enough in the morning now that the streets were busy with people doing their shopping, and the strong smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air. He wished he could buy some for Jessie, but that wasn't possible.

(Orion could only hope it would be one day.)

Passing between buildings, Orion soon spotted the twisted iron fence of the cemetery, perched upon a hill overlooking the town. It was hardly ever busy, especially this early in the day, just the way Orion liked it. The thought of people watching him was uncomfortable, especially when all he wanted were a few moments alone with his parents.

Pushing the gate open, Orion stepped in, following the path between rows upon rows of gravestones, evenly spaced in perfectly straight lines. He knew exactly where his parents were by now- fifteen rows back, four to the right. Many of the death dates on the gravestones around there were the same: all victims of the same cave-in, one sparked by rebellion.

The Capitol, the Rebels, they were all just the same in the end as far as Orion was concerned. Nothing more than juggernauts, too big to ever understand the people they crushed beneath their feet in their eternal battle for power.

It didn't matter if the battle never ended, if a so-called victor was crowned or if a supposed evil was defeated.

Nothing would ever bring his mother and father back.

"Hey there," Orion said softly, kneeling before the stones. From the inside of his jacket, he produced a handful of crushed flowers - nothing more than weeds pulled from their lawn, but Orion figured it was better than nothing. Gently, he placed the flowers on his mother's grave, brushing his fingers across the stone. Orion always wished he could do more for his parents, more than just bring in weeds from the fields on his monthly (at best) visits. But doing more wasn't possible, not yet at least.

(One day, Orion would be able to fulfill his own wishes. He'd make sure of it.)

Orion kneeled for a few minutes longer, resting his chin upon his knee. There wasn't much else to say- what would he say? That he'd failed at being a friend? That he'd spent every year since his parents' death pushing everyone away until he had nothing left? That no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fix those relationships? That even though everyone he loved was so close he could practically reach out and touch them, he couldn't be anything but completely and utterly alone?

No, Orion couldn't tell his mother and father how far he'd sunk, unable to keep himself from slipping under the waves entirely.

With a heaving breath, Orion pushed himself to his feet, wiping away the tears which pooled in his eyes with his sleeve. It'd been long enough, and the last thing he wanted was for Jessie to worry about where he'd gone.

"I had a hunch I might find you here."

Orion jumped, nearly tripping over himself. He whipped his head around, spotting the familiar figure of Theresa just a few feet down the path. She looked older, taller, and her hair was longer than Orion ever remembered it being.

"Mmm," Orion grunted, rubbing his eyes again to ensure the tears were gone.

"Ky's worried, you know," Theresa spoke again, drawing closer.

"About?"

"You."

"I see," Orion nodded. "And what would you like me to do about that?"

"Start by taking this," Theresa said, producing a small pouch from her sleeve that jingled in the way only coins could. "But the rest is up to you."

Orion sighed, taking a moment to release the tension which had built in his jaw. "Pity money?"

"No. Money to ensure you and Ky stay clear of the Peacekeepers' sweeps."

"I can't-"

"You can, though. For Ky. We agreed to protect him, and you've been watching over him for so long. It's my turn to help," Theresa insisted.

"Fine," Orion grunted, taking the money and shoving it into his pocket. "Take care of yourself too… uh, if you need anything, you know where I am."

"I'll fare just fine, 'Rion, but thank you." Theresa barked a laugh, spinning on her heel and setting off down the hill again. "See you around!"

Orion stood, watching her walk away, hand wrapped firmly around the money.

He would be strong. He would keep what remained of his family safe.

(Orion could only hope they'd be able to call him a friend again in the end.)

Atalanta St. Aubrin, 18
District Two.

Atalanta spun her sword, sheathing it at her side as she looked upon her fallen opponent. "Would you like to go again?"

The fallen boy groaned, covering his eyes with his hands- an answer without words that she could understand just the same. Atalanta stepped closer, offering him a hand.

"C'mon, up you get. I doubt you want to lay too long on these floors," Atalanta said.

"I'm fine, St Aubrin," he insisted, removing his hands from his face.

"I put you there, Ellery. Even if you're a trainer, it's only right I help you up again."

"She's right, Adan," another voice added- Vestron, on the sidelines. Atalanta was aware of his presence, but wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been watching.

With a deep sigh, Ellery took her hand. She hauled him to his feet - despite his height, she had no problem with it - and Ellery took a moment to dust himself off.

"You're getting better," Ellery said, straightening his jacket. "Maybe too good to be going up against a junior trainer like me."

"Thank you, sir," Atalanta beamed as they moved to the side, towards Vestron. "Is there anything I can improve on, though?"

"Sure there is," Vestron said, crossing his arms in front of him. "But you fight… oddly."

"Oddly?"

Vestron paused for a moment, tapping his chin. "You're different. Less brutish than many of the others your age."

"I see," Atalanta nodded. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all," Ellery interjected. "I'd venture to say you could keep the other Careers on their toes, which could be played to your advantage."

Atalanta continued nodding eagerly. Vestron and Ellery were two of the best trainers there were, despite their age; Atalanta could only be grateful one of them had been assigned to her of all people. Just a few weeks before, Atalanta had been alone, vying for the volunteer spot. Now it was hers- and she had the combined resources of the entire Academy at her fingertips.

She couldn't rest now, couldn't let up on her training, not when this opportunity had been presented to her. Atalanta had fought for every step forward, every inch of progression towards the Games, and never had she dared second guess herself.

And she wouldn't start now.

Atalanta wanted nothing more than to slide further down into the stiff chair she sat on, but she didn't allow herself. Instead, she clasped the ornately carved armrests and steeled herself.

Only one more. Only one more of these pointless dinners, and she'd be free.

"Now, Atalanta dear, how is your training going?" Camilla asked from across the table, leaning forward eagerly on her gloved hands. "How have you found the adjustment back to Two's academies? I know some have been struggling with it."

"Oh," Atalanta responded quietly, shaking herself out a bit. "It's not so bad. I quite enjoyed the insight into how they do things over in One. They're a fair bit less… brutal, I suppose."

"Brutal?" Camilla laughed. "I wouldn't disagree."

Atalanta nodded. That was all Two ever was: brutal and efficient. And while Atalanta certainly didn't mind that way of doing things, it was nice to understand the Ones better.

"I mean, my training there might even give me an advantage over them in the Games-"

"Games? My dear, you cannot be serious."

Camilla laughed, and Atalanta's grip on the armrest tightened. She'd never been as serious about anything as she was serious about training. Many of her parent's friends insinuated she wasn't- that she'd let them pay her way to the top, just as they did for their children. But Atalanta was not like those other kids. Every trainee wanted glory, to be recognized for their greatness, but not every Career was willing to risk their lives to acquire it.

It wasn't those kids' fault they'd been taught cowardice. But to never resist it? That Atalanta couldn't understand.

"Are you…" Camilla questioned, tapping her fingers on the table to get Atalanta's attention. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Atalanta responded, the furrow in her brow deepening. "I haven't been training all my life just to take the easy way out now."

Atalanta was grateful as the dinner party fell silent- but still, all she wanted to do was flee. To run from the dining room and hide behind her bedroom door until the world forgot about her entirely.

No.

She couldn't run. Atalanta St. Aubrin was not a coward. She would not bend her knee to cowards. Atalanta was representing her District now, and the Capitol too once she volunteered. She wouldn't bow to insolent rebels, who were content to sit safe and watch their home District burn. The rebels had ruined enough lives.

Atalanta wouldn't give in to those who'd destroyed hers too.

She was never Atalanta. No, she was the daughter of traitors, of rebels who'd been given endless wealth by the Capitol, who should have been grateful they got the chance to live as lavishly as anybody could ever want to. Instead, her parents revolted, throwing their lives- and their innocent daughter's, too -into chaos.

Her parents had never been caught.

(They deserved to be.)

"Atalanta," Mother hissed, nudging her shoulder as she slid back into her seat next to Atalanta. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Excuse me," was all Atalanta could say, pushing her chair back with little haste. She had to go somewhere- anywhere that wasn't here. Atalanta was strong, but she couldn't bear the weight of those gazes any longer.

They didn't see Atalanta. Nobody ever did.

They only saw her parents' daughter.

"Good morning, Atalanta," Mother said stiffy, as Atalanta rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough," Atalanta responded shortly. She beelined for the fridge, keeping her eyes on the floor- neither Mother nor Father had come to bother her after she'd left dinner. Atalanta didn't mind; she'd gotten plenty of extra studying in. But that meant she'd have to face them today.

(An inevitability. Sooner or later, she'd have to tell them she'd been selected to volunteer.)

"There are pancakes on the stove," Mother said, trailing Atalanta. "Why don't you sit down and have breakfast with me?"

Atalanta shook her head as she pulled some yogurt out of the fridge. She much preferred making her own breakfast these days; knowing how to cook was an important skill, and if she wanted to make it on her own, one she'd inevitably need. And if her parents weren't going to bother showing her, then Atalanta would just have to teach herself.

"I'm okay. I need to leave soon," she replied.

"Fine then," Mother sighed.

"Mornin'!" Father exclaimed as he walked in. "Everyone's up early!"

She didn't respond, moving instead to sit by her favourite window with her food. A moment later, her father slid into the seat across from her, the look on his face not one Atalanta particularly liked.

"Would you like to explain what last night was?" Father said, his tone starkly different from his chipper entrance just a few minutes earlier.

"What do you mean? I have nothing to explain," Atalanta responded, sighing into her breakfast.

"About getting up and leaving last night. All of our friends are talking about it," Father continued.

"So? Let them talk."

"We can't," Mother interjected, taking the chair next to Father. "You know we can't."

"Why not? All your friends do is talk. It wouldn't matter how I behave," Atalanta reasoned, folding her hands on the table.

"They'll talk no matter what, but we aren't concerned about that, Atalanta," Father agreed. "We're worried that-"

"What? That I'm going to volunteer?" Atalanta snapped. "That I'm going to actually go through with it, unlike all of your friends' coward children?"

"We don't want you to-"

"Well, I am. I am going to Volunteer- they selected me a week ago! And you didn't know that because why would I tell you? It's not like you care. All you care about is your stupid little rebellion ploy that hasn't worked- and it never will. You don't care about me or what I want because I won't align myself with you," Atalanta shouted, now standing over the table. "You're just a bunch of cowards, happy to sit back in District One and watch your home burn."

The room went cold and silent as Atalanta finished talking. The silence held weight, pressing down around them all, forcing them to be still.

She didn't linger to see their reactions. Instead, she picked up her dishes and dumped them in the sink before storming out. "I'm volunteering. It's my decision and there's nothing you can do to stop me. I've worked for this for my entire life, and you cannot stop me," Atalanta reaffirmed, her voice hardly above a whisper.

Atalanta had devoted herself to the Games, despite her parents trying to change her mind at every turn.

How could she possibly relent now?