Day Nine: The Fallen
"Tonight, we remember." A glass is raised, I watch it raise up. Mags slams her staff into the flagstones by her seat, and the room stands as one. I, sat on her left hand side, wish the earth would swallow me up. Still, I stand, Poseidon on my left. The fountain bubbling behind me
"Aurelia Carver." The words ring through the hall, a collective 'We remember' from the crowd. My first friend in the Games, Aurelia with her flashing blonde hair, and those three sounds that I'll never put away. Her laugh, bright and vivacious and full of everything the Capitol would expect from a One. It may not have been the most pleasant arena, but Aurelia's laugh made it just a bit brighter. And no, not in that way.
The hiss of her knives, drawn from sheaths each time she got into a fight. Their hissing as she plunged forward, dancing and fighting. Always more dance, but enough fight to get the job done. She always wanted to be busy doing something, she said, and the pattern dance with her knives kept her busy.
The silver chime of the blade I put through her throat. It was quick, at least, of course it was quick.
I hope she's busy, wherever she is.
"Cent Lee."
Cent. Laughing Cent. Laughing Cent, with that shock of white hair and and that quick smile and that willingness to help anyone. To defend anyone. That willingness that got him dragged in to fight after fight, interceding to prevent discord in a Squad that managed to hold together until the end.
That willingness to fight that got him between me and Teton when it came to blows. He managed to parry my thrust at his throat.
His spear was in the wrong place when the broadsword swung and sliced him near in two.
"Cora Lariston." Cora. Sweet Cora. Cora, who for all her skill with a bow wasn't cut out for the Games. She'd shoot a rabbit, sure, but were it not for me to be the one discovering her crying over what she'd done later that night there'd have been issues. She'd kill the girls from Ten and Eight, bow singing out, before giving that little smile and that bow and that wink. Saying everything was fine as she roasted airdropped marshmallows over the campfire on one of her arrows.
It took two days before Teton found the knives marking tracks down her arms, yelled and went red in the face as Aurelia led her away, Silver and Cary stepped between them, and I made sure one hand was on my blade. Cora clearly wasn't taking it well, it was a shame what had to happen.
I made sure my blade was true as it entered her neck. Cora deserved no less.
"Teton Rightwell."
Self-righteous bastard. hought he was on top of the world. He was so proud of himself, so willing to fight if it won him a few extra minutes of camera time.
I'm not quite sure how I finished him. One minute my blade was flashing, and he was gaining ground. The next, there was a red trench in his neck and trumpets blaring around me. His was the only kill I didn't regret.
"Cary Way." Cary. Lovely guy, Cary. The guy who'd made sure I was alright, made sure there was no conflict that threatened me until the Alliance disintegrated. I wasn't close to him before the Games, but during them we were practically inseparable. He was from home, after all, and our combined sponsor base kept us in food from home.
I think they enjoyed seeing the banter, the chatter, the discussion and promises and whispers. We were scheming, by the end. To run, to abandon the group and leave for an escape. What happened next was a shame. His cry, "Leah, with me." The knife, Aurelia throwing, spinning towards him. Slipping into his throat.
"Lattice Gates." The boy from Five. Eighteen, but still ran and cried like all the rest when it came down to it. I didn't take any pleasure in the kill, but it was just business. Because of course forcing a head down into water until it stopped moving, just to sate a baying audience beyond the screen, was business.
What I took even less pleasure in was standing on the podium and speaking, speaking beneath the glowing lights and glass towers of Five. Like nothing we have in Four, save for a handful of buildings in the City proper. Seeing the tear streaked faces of mother, father, siblings, a girl who must have been his. Seeing the hate aimed at me by Five, after that hope that just two years after their third Victor they'd get a fourth.
"Spool Latimer." I remember him. My first kill. Even if Cent and Cary had been quick to defend me, Aurelia had insisted I needed to prove myself. We found Spool that night.
It wasn't quick. It wasn't happy. It wasn't kind, or light, or gentle. I can still hear the begging, the screaming, the silence. The hiss and whir of knives breaking through the silence, as a bloodsoaked Aurelia stepped out from behind a tree and gave me a giggle and a kiss. It was the first time my cheeks didn't flush when that happened.
Before I can think any further, the staff slams again against the ground, and the room sits. Except for me, even if I'll never be me again. Except for Mags. She turns to me, and the ceremony continues. "Leah Reeler. Do you remember those who fell so you did not?" "I do." "Do you swear to uphold their memories and honour their sacrifice?" "I do," "Then rise and consign their names to the depth, Victor Reeler."
Seven Names. Seven slips of paper, slips I let flutter into the into the fountain with the knowledge they'll flow out to sea. Seven fallen. The first one slips off my fingers, and I repeat the words I'd been taught. "I remember your legacy." The second, "I honour your sacrifice." By the fourth it's all I can do to hold back emotions, and ignore the Co that begins whichever name next flutters down.
By the end there's a fountain of tears dripping down my face, not that anyone reacts. It's a solemn thing, this ceremony.