Fleur Pettifur, 17
District 6, She/They
June 14th, 97 ADD
10:02 AM
Since running into the boys from Tomo's alliance, Fleur had been on edge. She couldn't shake the dread curdling in their stomach, no matter how hard they tried to convince themself it was just the rabbit meat from dinner last night.
(What were the odds that next time they ran into other tributes, they'd make it out unscathed? They were lucky to have made it so far with so few encounters; how much longer could that luck last?)
She tried to think of home instead, but that didn't help much. Fleur wouldn't be surprised if her father had buried himself in work, or her mother in fundraising- trying to fix the issue with money and presents, as she always did. Maybe their sister Posh was watching, the only one Fleur trusted to face the inevitable.
(Posh would've been so much better at this. As much as Fleur hated to admit it, Posh knew how to use people to her advantage, especially district people. Posh was the one who tried to warn Fleur away from Colin Malone. Posh was smart enough to stand a chance here.
But Fleur? She wasn't so certain.)
Chase nudged them from her thoughts. "Hiya. Let's do a round on the snares."
"Already?" Fleur asked. "Won't we scare them away?"
"Overnight is long enough," Chase replied, helping Fleur get to her feet
The two of them started walking. Chase had set the snares in the brush along the river, saying that animals would pass through them on their way for water. It had worked well enough for dinner last night- and it was nice to eat something that wasn't lizard, even if Fleur had to close her eyes while Chase prepared it.
It didn't take long to reach the first snare. Chase crouched beside it with a frown. "Damn."
"Empty," Fleur remarked.
"Yeah, but it got tripped. Whatever it was got away." Chase started fiddling with the snare. Without lifting her head, she said, "Can you go check the next one? It's not far- just up and to the right."
Fleur's stomach flipped at the idea of finding a dead animal, but they nodded. They wanted to be useful. She trodded to where Chase directed them, bending over as they searched the brush for the snare. "Here?"
"A bit more to the right, I think-"
A horrible series of cracking noises tore through the air. The ground shook beneath her feet, and Fleur whirled around, searching for Chase. "What's happening?" they shrieked.
Chase scrambled to her feet. "I don't know- c'mon, let's go-"
Fleur took a halting step toward Chase, the ground shaking so hard they nearly fell. It took all of her focus to remain upright. She looked down, trying to take another step-
-just to see the ground split between her feet.
Fleur abandoned all caution and threw themself forward. She scrambled toward Chase on hands and knees, watching the split tear after her, ripping the ground apart between their hands. They didn't make it far before the split began to widen.
She changed course, dragging herself to the side. The split followed. The ground beneath her knees shuddered, falling away into the widening gap and taking Fleur's breath away. In only a few moments, she was clinging to the fissure's edge with white knuckles. They spared a look down into the hole, trying to see the bottom, but it was only darkness. The ground kept trembling.
Fleur squeezed her eyes shut. They could already feel their grip failing.
(Maybe there was no bottom, and she would fall forever. In the dark. No color, no sparkles. Just void. Absence so powerful it would choke the life from her. Alone again, displaced again.
All Fleur Pettifur had ever wanted was to be safe. Why was the world so hell-bent on robbing her of that?)
One of her hands fell away. Fleur gasped, her eyes springing open, only to see a piece of brush falling past her head. Ghosts lurked at the ledge, staring down at her, vacant and passive. A girl with sad eyes and a neck bent the wrong way. A girl with a wooden spike driving out the front of her ribs, a smirk still fading from her lips.
(But beyond them, the sky was so blue.
Posh used to have a dress that color that Fleur would always steal, even though the shoulders were a hair too wide. The view outside her window, before they moved to Six's smog, was that color. That color was Chase's favorite.)
(Fleur could see why.)
Her hand slipped from its hold just as Chase's closed around their wrist.
Chase was pale, her face drawn tight and her hair wild. "C'mon," she said through clenched teeth. "C'mon!"
As Fleur reached her free hand up toward the edge, Chase leaned back, dragging her toward the surface as she pulled themself up.
"Use your feet," Chase shouted. Her hands were clammy around their wrist. "Get… foothold..."
Fleur kicked their boots into the fissure wall, finding a tiny ledge with their right foot. She pushed themself up, giving Chase enough momentum to pull her up. As Chase grabbed their shoulders to haul them further, Fleur wrenched her elbows over the edge; with one last push, she was laying on solid ground, her chest heaving.
"We… we should go…" Chase trailed, sitting next to Fleur while trying to catch her breath.
"The shaking," Fleur said, also gasping. "Less now."
It was true. Now that Fleur was no longer hanging on for dear life, the earthquake seemed to be subsiding. The ground wasn't trembling so violently anymore. The ghosts were starting to disperse.
Chase's shoulders slumped with agreement. "Good. Still…"
"I know." Fleur took a few more long breaths, then pushed themself up to sitting. "And thank you."
Chase nodded.
"You… you saved my life. Again."
Chase shrugged. "I guess."
"No, you did," Fleur insisted. She could feel the pressure of tears building up behind her eyes. "I can't even check a snare."
Chase gave them an incredulous look. "That was not your fault. That was some Gamemaker shit."
"We were separated for two seconds," Fleur said. "And that was all it took for me to almost- to almost-"
"But you didn't," Chase said. "We're okay."
Fleur sniffled.
"We stick together," Chase said, nudging them with her elbow. "I need you, okay? You're my friend, and I'll lose my fucking mind if I'm out here by myself. We've already lost too many people."
Fleur looked at her with blurry vision. "I'm sorry I keep hiding things from you."
"...Hiding?"
It came tumbling out all at once. "When we were in the ghost town and I started freaking out. Because we were in an alley. And I was remembering, because the last time I was in an alley things almost got really really bad, and I know you said you've never killed anyone before but I almost did. I almost killed him."
Chase stilled. "What? Fleur, you don't have to-"
"No, I want to," Fleur said. "It was why we had to leave the Capitol. There was this- this guy, and he wouldn't leave me alone. He was always following me. Posh kept trying to tell me he was bad, but I was stupid, I was so stupid, and one time I was walking and he got me alone. We were in an alley, and he… he… I don't know what he wanted to do to me. Something bad." Tears poured freely down her cheeks. "I got scared. I hit him with my hairpin a lot. I thought he'd died, so I ran away. But he didn't die, he was just almost dead, and when they took him to the hospital he was in a coma. And his dad was really angry. He didn't believe me about what happened. We had to leave the Capitol."
"So you went to Six," Chase said slowly. "Oh god, Fleur."
"I just don't want to die," Fleur sobbed.
Chase scooted closer, wrapping her arms around Fleur's shoulders. "I'm so sorry that happened," she said, quietly. "I'm glad you were okay. Fuck that guy."
"I hurt him really badly."
"Fuck that guy. You were defending yourself," Chase corrected. "Never stop doing that."
Fleur didn't have any more words. They let a few more tears fall, then lifted their head.
Chase patted their shoulder, surveying the remnants of the earthquake. "Let's keep moving," she said. "Might as well grab our snares on the way out, too."
Fleur nodded, exhausted. Once again, she was happy to let Chase take the lead. They followed after her, holding the snares Chase collected. None of them yielded any food. That was fine. Fleur just kept putting one foot in front of the other.
(Someday, Fleur Pettifur would be able to stop moving, to stop running. Someday her mistakes would stop tearing their security out from under her feet.
Today, however, was not that day.)
Tomo Metellus, 18
District 6, He/Him
2:39 PM
Tomo couldn't stop thinking about Mercury.
He couldn't stop thinking about the fury in Mercury's eyes, or the scorn in the set of his jaw. He couldn't stop thinking about Mercury's hands squeezing the baseball bat so hard Tomo thought it would break. He couldn't stop thinking about Mercury's figure, retreating into the horizon.
And then, last night, seeing Mercury's cocky grin among the stars.
(He didn't understand how it could be possible. Mercury was so talented- what could have happened? What was out there that was even more formidable?)
(Tomo wanted, more than anything, for the world to make sense. His father had long instilled in him that the world wasn't fair, but Tomo thought he knew how it worked. Not anymore.
He could not figure out a way for Mercury Vidovic's death to be anything but senseless.
And that, more than anything, cut deep.)
(That, and the fact that Mercury died thinking Tomo was- was bad.)
(What if Mercury was right?)
"Hey, guys?" a small voice called. Tomo looked up to see Jude standing at one of the windows, lowering his binoculars from their face. "Someone's coming."
Tomo scrambled to his feet, his heart already hammering in his chest. Jest bolted to the window. "Where?"
Jude pointed somewhere to the left.
"He's right," Jest said.
"Who?" Jem asked, reaching for a weapon. He picked one up, as well as a knife, which he put in Tomo's hands. Tomo quickly put it in his pocket.
"Career girl," Jude answered. "I think it's the one from Four."
Chevre's eyes went wide, and she ran to another window. "Another one here," she said- the first words out of her mouth all day. Ever since what happened with Wisdom, she'd been quiet, spending all her time messing with the concoctions he'd left behind. Honestly, those concoctions worried Tomo- especially if they were what Tomo thought they were- but with Careers closing in, that concern faded.
"Probably all three are here somewhere," Jest said.
"Are we fighting them?" Tomo asked, wringing his hands.
"We'll have to," Jem said, at the same time Chevre said, "They want the Cornucopia back."
"We can't let them corner us," Jest said.
"But we can lock them out-" Tomo started.
"All of these buildings are ready to fall apart," Chevre said. "They've got spears. They can break the windows and break down the doors."
"Start with Four," Jest said. "She's most injured. Use crates as shields. I'll deal with Two, Jem, you handle One."
Tomo could hear footsteps outside. He picked up one of the wooden crates, gripping it tightly. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He didn't want to die. He didn't know what to do-
"Come on," Chevre said, grabbing his shoulder. "They killed True. They're not getting the Cornucopia, too."
Tomo swallowed, the crate shaking in his hands. "Okay."
Chevre threw one of the doors open. Jem and Jest disappeared through the others as Tomo followed Chevre into the blinding sunlight.
The Four girl was waiting for them, spear poised. Jest was right about her being injured- she had bandages wrapped around her leg, and most of her throat was the wrong color. She didn't look happy to see them, but she didn't look nearly as scared as Tomo felt, either.
Maybe that was because two ghosts lurked behind her. Tomo grimaced as he caught sight of True McKellar. It felt wrong to see her so… listless. Tomo wasn't able to stomach looking at her body when she died- now, there was no avoiding her bloodied form.
And this was the person who'd done it to her…
Around them, Tomo heard the beginnings of fights breaking out. Metal crashed against metal, and footsteps shuffled in the dust. The Four girl leveled her spear, but didn't move any closer; instead, she waited for them to come to her.
"Bet she can't walk right," Chevre muttered to him. "Hit her leg if you can."
"Or we could stay right here," Tomo suggested.
"Are you serious?"
"If she won't attack, it makes sense to just stay here," Tomo pleaded.
He'd expected Chevre to brush him off, but she paused. "Well. That's not entirely illogical."
Four glanced between Tomo and Chevre, but she still didn't move. The fights around them were getting louder. He could hear Jem's voice, forebodingly casual. Someone else, a voice Tomo vaguely recognized, parried with him.
A scream rang out. Chevre's head whipped to the side. While she was searching for it, another cry followed.
"That's Jest," Chevre said. She started backing away, toward where the sounds came from.
"Wait, where are you-"
"You can handle Four," Chevre said. "I have to help him."
"Wait-!"
But Chevre turned and took off, leaving Tomo alone.
With a Career.
Who was leveling a spear at him.
Tomo stared at Four. Four stared back.
"I…" Tomo tried. "I won't attack you if you don't attack me?"
Four tilted her head in a way Tomo hoped meant that she was considering.
"I just don't want to hurt anyone," Tomo said, hating the tremor in his voice.
Four looked away, glancing down over her right shoulder. A shorter ghost lingered there- a boy.
After a long moment- long enough for two drops of sweat to roll the length of Tomo's back- she glanced back at him, giving him a tiny nod.
Tomo's shoulders sagged with relief. He still held his crate up, and she still held her spear, but he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. Sweat beaded at his temples. His allies' cries of pain rang in his ears. Still, he remained motionless.
(The longer he stared at Four, the more he noticed. He noticed the prints on her neck, ovular like plump grapes. He saw the strands of stick-straight hair escaping her braids. He picked up on the rust-brown stains on the cloth wrapped around her thigh. He spotted the hollows beneath her eyes.
Maybe that last part was what prompted him to say it.)
"Did you see Mercury?" he asked.
Her eyebrows lifted. She took a second to clear her throat before asking, "When?"
Tomo swallowed. "Yesterday."
She shook her head. "Only in the sky."
"Oh."
(Senseless. It was absolutely senseless.)
As if reading his mind, another shout tore through the air, louder than the rest. "No!" someone cried, out of sight. His voice was too twisted for Tomo to be certain of- either Jest or Jem. "No!"
"I've got one," another voice shrieked. A Career? It had to be. "Run!"
Cannonfire burst through the fight. Tomo nearly dropped his crate. Four broke his gaze, backing away with her spear still aloft, and started limping away with astonishing speed.
As she ran, she spared Tomo a glance over her shoulder. Tomo could just make out her eyes for a second before the ghosts swarmed her and she turned away.
Tomo watched them retreat. He couldn't stop looking at the ghosts on her tail.
(He wondered if he'd ever see Mercury's.)
Jem Piper, 17
District 9, He/Him
2:43 PM
The sword was heavy and unfamiliar in his hand, but as he watched One strut closer, he was glad to have it.
(What bothered Jem about One the most was how relaxed they were. There was no sense of urgency in their stride, no uncertainty in their smirk. He could see it in their swagger: One didn't take Jem seriously.)
(It was the same infuriating assurance Jem was always met with. Van Housen had it back in Nine, when he ran the newsies ragged. The Escort who watched Jem Volunteer had it. The Gamemakers staring down at him during his private session had it.
Now this One kid had it. Yet another person who thought they could stomp Jem Piper under their shoe like he was a fuckin' gnat.
No. Jem would show them. Jem would show them all, and then he'd fix this rotten system once and for all.)
One twirled their spear almost idly as they gave Jem a once-over. To Jem's satisfaction, their smirk started to fade as their eyes flicked behind him. "Ah."
One stopped twirling their spear. Jem shifted his grip on the sword, watching them closely.
"So you're the fucker who killed my district partner."
"And your ally killed mine," Jem said, his voice flat. He tried very hard not to recall how brutalized Shazia's ghost was. He was almost successful.
"Mercury?" They snorted. "Or Brizo? Either way, I'd be embarrassed."
Something was off about this conversation, but Jem couldn't put his finger on it. "That they killed her?"
"That she got herself killed by such freaks," One answered. Jem had to force himself not to bristle. "Those two were nothing."
Jem made a show of tapping his chin. "I dunno. Is it more embarrassing to lose the Cornucopia? Or is it worse if you're a Career who gets themself killed by the likes of me, huh?"
One narrowed their eyes. "You jackass."
Jem knew he should stop. It would've been a great idea to stop, but…
Well… fuck that, actually. "Or is it most embarrassing for you, if you're so much better, to have no kills at all?"
One tilted their head. "Listen here, little newspaper boy," they snarled. "That's right, I watched your interview. There's still a lot of Games left to go, and your luck won't last you the rest of it."
"It's not luck," Jem countered, a smile of his own slipping out. "You're just mad."
"And you're an outer-district nobody," One spat. "You're not some hotshot underdog. You're not special or important. You are cannon fodder. And I promise you- you will die, forgotten, in a grave no one will bother to pull the fucking weeds from. You've helped me put on a good show, I'll admit, but your time onstage is done, sweetheart. Now are you gonna roll over and fucking die already, or do I need to make you?"
Jem pretended to consider that as he forced One's words to roll off his back. "Uh… yeah. You're gonna have to make me."
One nearly smiled. "Fine."
One raised their spear again and advanced.
(Wait, that was it- that was the off part, why did One wait so long, drag it out like that? Unless the stage thing wasn't a bit-)
Immediately, One had Jem on the defensive. Their spear spun so fast it became a blur, raining down on Jem over and over. It was all he could do to block it, and even when he did, it smacked Jem's sword so hard it made his bones rattle. Jem gritted his teeth as he defended a swipe at his shoulder, his knee, his ribcage.
He knocked another blow away from his stomach. When he looked up, One was smiling.
(They were still playing with him. The strut, the flourishes with the spear, the monologue- Jem was still a toy to them.)
As One raised the spear overhead, Jem lunged, trying to slice into their chest. One leaped back just in time. To Jem's indignation, they grinned wider. Their next attack was faster than Jem could pull back, and they slammed the shaft of the spear into Jem's shoulder.
(Jem Piper had spent far too many years feeling small.)
Jem cried out, but didn't drop the sword. He tried to cut into One again, but the swing went wild, and One took the opportunity to thwack Jem's ribs.
His chest burning, Jem glared at One- it hadn't escaped his notice that One hadn't tried a lethal blow even once. "Stop fucking with me!" he shouted.
One glanced behind Jem again, at the ghost behind his shoulder. Jem lunged again, slashing at One's arm. This time, he drew blood.
One recoiled. "You little-"
"I'm not little, you ass-"
One whipped the spear around; Jem lifted the sword, ready to block the attack coming at his other shoulder. But One feinted at the last second and flicked the spear upward. Jem didn't react fast enough.
The weapon cracked against his ear. Jem's head snapped back, his vision going ink-black for a horrifying second- he couldn't hear, he couldn't see- he forced himself to blink, to pull himself together-
His eyes cleared. He was still standing, though his head throbbed. One lifted the spear one-handed above their shoulder. Again, they glanced over Jem's shoulder, where the girl watched the fight.
They narrowed their eyes, took aim, and threw.
Jem dropped to the ground, desperate to escape the spear's path. He landed face-first, the wind knocking out of him with a sharp ache. Jem looked up, expecting the Career to be on him any second, but the spear missed, at least…
So why was One still smiling?
One ran forward, their eyes locked on Jem's ghost. Jem pushed himself up, trying to ready himself, but One ran past him. Jem twisted, confused-
"No!" he cried, the word ripping his breath from his throat.
The spear didn't miss.
One was never looking at the ghost at all.
Jude stood in the doorway, a knife too big for him falling from their fingers. He looked down, their hands hovering a few inches from the spear shaft that had plunged straight through their belly button. One reached them and, in one fluid motion, yanked the spear back out.
"No!" Jem screamed.
From another side of the Cornucopia, another voice broke through the air. "I've got one!" it shouted. "Run!"
One looked down at Jem. "That's just tying up the score," they said cheerfully. "I'll see you next time."
One backed away, starting to run off. Jem, who had never had more loathing for another person in his life, wanted to follow.
But then Jude started to crumple into the pool of blood at their feet.
Jem dove for him, making it just in time to catch their head. Jude's eyes were wide as yellow moons. Blood already bubbled at their lips. "Hurts," they croaked.
"I know, buddy," Jem answered, his voice shaking. "I'm so sorry, buddy. I'm so sorry."
"Real?" Jude asked. "Or… or dream?"
Jem tried to wipe the blood away from Jude's chin. He couldn't stop shaking. "Dream," he lied.
Jude looked at Jem. "I wanna… wake up… now," he murmured.
"Dream's almost over," Jem promised. He told Jude the best dream he could think of. "You'll wake up, and- and it'll all be done. It'll be clean 'n green 'n pretty, with big rolling fields, and horses, and campfires…"
"And Dad?" Jude croaked.
"Yeah. Your dad'll be there too," Jem told him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shove the tears away. It didn't work.
A small smile pushed at Jude's cheeks. "I'm gonna wake up now," they whispered. His eyes fluttered shut.
A breath later, the cannon rang out.
Boom.
Jude's head lolled in Jem's hands. Jem hunched over, unable to stop shaking. He tried to brush the blood from Jude's chin, but it wouldn't stop coming.
(All he'd wanted was to give them a chance.)
"I'm so sorry," Jem mumbled. A sob tore loose from his throat as he looked at the dead kid in his arms. They'd killed Jude not for survival, or necessity, but for fucking sport. What would an apology do now?
"I- I'll tear it all down," he promised instead. "This arena, this awful game, this… this country, Jude, I'll tear it all down, and this'll never happen again-"
Boots crunched against dirt and dust. Jem looked up to see Tomo skidding around the corner- not a scratch on him, somehow, but looking shaken. "Jest is really hurt," Tomo said. Then he saw Jude, and the boy's eyes instantly filled with tears. He hastily swiped at his eyes. "Oh, no..."
Jem swallowed and set his jaw. "Chevre's helping him?"
Tomo shook his head. "She- I don't know where she went-"
Alarm bells went off in Jem's head. "What do you mean, you don't know where she-"
"She's gone!" Tomo said, throwing his hands in the air.
"Go help Jest. I'll be there in a second," Jem told him.
Tomo nodded. He gave Jude one last look, his chin trembling, then disappeared back around the corner.
Jem brushed the blood off Jude's mouth one more time. Then he forced himself to his feet, still holding Jude in his arms, and walked toward the ghost town. He set Jude down on one of the side roads as gently as he could. He tucked Jude's hands against their stomach, trying to conceal the wound.
"I'm so sorry, buddy," Jem whispered, tears burning behind his eyes. A few managed to get loose, rolling down his cheeks like tumbleweeds, but Jem didn't bother brushing them away.
He let out a long, shuddering breath.
(There was only so much Jem Piper could do to even the odds.)
Then he turned and walked back to the Cornucopia.
Tisiphone Fotis, 18
District 4, She/Her
2:58 PM
Vince caught up with her first, looking pleased with themself. "Got rid of the small one," they told her, "which was overdue. You?"
Tisiphone chose her words carefully. "Held off the Six boy," she answered.
"The one Mercury liked?"
She nodded. "He asked about him. I didn't have an answer."
"Interesting," Vince mused. "I wonder if it was a mutt, honestly… I could totally see Mercury going up against a bear or something…"
"There are other tributes," Tisiphone reminded them. With her allies' obsession over the Cornucopia, Tisiphone was starting to wonder if they'd forgotten about the tributes still scattered across the arena.
Vince exhaled. "I guess."
Footsteps came up behind them, and Tisiphone turned to see Bastet. Like Vince, they seemed satisfied with how things had gone. Unlike Vince, she'd clearly taken a few hits: a fresh cut bled on her cheek, and her vest was torn. Also unlike Vince, they had a body thrown over her shoulder, which they were now lugging down the road. A small ghost also trailed her.
"I can't believe that worked," Vince muttered.
Bastet closed the distance between them. "She's unconscious," they said, "and I think I hit her hard enough that she won't wake up anytime soon."
Vince leaned closer, flicking a loose strand of blonde hair that hung from the girl's head. "This is Ten? Rumi's partner?"
"Pretty sure," Bastet replied.
"Are you hurt?" Tisiphone asked.
A wicked smirk spread across Bastet's lips. "Not as much as Five."
Tisiphone looked away, unsettled.
"Glad you're okay," Vince said. "Let's get Ten into one of these buildings in case she wakes up anyway."
Vince turned and started leading the way down the street; Bastet followed. Tisiphone grit her teeth and limped behind them to head up the rear. A few blocks later, Vince led them into a building labeled Saloon, pushing the swinging doors aside to allow Bastet to bring their hostage inside.
It looked like some kind of bar. There were plenty of round tables and stools and barrels and support beams littering the room. A tiny half-circle stage sat empty at the far side, framed by air was thick with the smell of old wood. Not like Four's docks, though; this wood was dry and dusty. The floorboards creaked beneath Tisiphone's boots, and small, vertical slats of light illuminated the dust motes they kicked up as they walked around.
Bastet dumped the Ten girl on the stage. "We need a way to secure her," she said. They examined the curtains. "Maybe these?"
Vince sighed wistfully. "If we have to."
Tisiphone nodded and made her way over, pulling a stretch of the curtains down and starting to cut them into strips with her spearhead. Meanwhile, Vince wandered behind the bar. "There's some whiskey back here," they called. At Tisiphone's frown, they continued, "For cleaning injuries, Tiss. Although a shot sounds great right now."
Bastet smirked. "We are celebrating."
"Is it safe?" Tisiphone asked. "Doesn't it expire?"
Vince lifted a bottle. "This one's still sealed," they replied. "Some of them are definitely bad, though."
Bastet's smile widened. "Could use them on Ten."
"Well…" Tisiphone trailed.
Vince glanced at Tisiphone. "We'll see if it comes to that," they decided. "How're those curtains coming along?"
"Fine," she answered.
They looked back at Bastet. "Let's find something to tie her to. These stools don't look great. Maybe the tables…?"
"Might be better furniture in one of the other buildings," Bastet suggested.
"You good here while we go look?" Vince asked.
"I'm fine," Tisiphone said. "If you find any rope, though- I'm not sure how well this fabric will work. For tying knots."
"Got it," Vince replied, giving her a mock salute. "Be back in a few minutes."
With that, her allies left through the swinging doors. Tisiphone watched them go, followed by the ghost of the girl Bastet killed on the first day.
It had been a week in the arena, now. That felt… wrong. It felt like so much more had happened; the days seemed so much longer than that. It also meant she'd been away from home, from her sisters and brother, for two weeks now.
Hang in there, she willed them. Just a bit longer, now.
(She'd be closer if she'd been able to kill Six. She could've done it, and she knew that, but something about the fear in his face sank straight to the pit in her stomach. Tisiphone didn't want blood in the way her allies did; she just wanted to go home. So she'd done her part- held him off- and no more. She had to tell herself that was enough. Six wasn't much of a threat. She'd be able to defeat him another time, if someone else didn't beat her to it.)
(Still, there was a bit of guilt that lingered. Her siblings needed her to get it together and persevere. He wasn't a threat, and that was exactly why she should've taken him out.
But the fight with Brizo had left her drained, and so had her arguments with Bastet. She just… she needed to catch her breath.)
(She could do this. She just needed a breath.)
Tisiphone finished cutting up a section of curtain and set the strips aside, biting her lip as she briefly tested their strength. She hoped Vince and Bastet could find something else. Then she looked at Ten, who was still unconscious next to her.
Tisiphone sighed, swallowing hard. She had a bad feeling about where this was headed.
She couldn't explain exactly why she did it. Tisiphone reached over and propped Ten against the wall, leaning her against a support beam. She rebuttoned the top of Ten's collared shirt, and she pulled the elastic from Ten's left braid, which was more of a ponytail at this point, so she could weave it into a proper braid again. She tied Ten's wrists together with a quick, simple knot. She checked Ten's head and found the lump Bastet had put there, dabbing some of the blood away with one of her extra strips of curtain.
(Tisiphone had a very, very bad feeling about where this was headed. But she meant what she'd told Brizo about torturing people. That wasn't what she came here to do. She came here so she wouldn't lose what family she had left.
So while she wouldn't be saving Ten by any means, Tisiphone tried to give her some dignity back.
Maybe that way, Tisiphone wouldn't lose herself, either.)
Aescelin Ibbara-Ixtal, 18
District 7, He/Him
6:27 PM
Aescelin was dreaming big.
Valentina sat across from Aescelin with her back against the tunnel wall, kicking at a rock with her boot. The Two boy's bat was at her side. From off to her left, light spilled through the tunnel entrance, along with a warm breeze that felt much better than the cool, stale air of the mines. "We're not doing the mine cart again," Valentina said, not for the first time. "The cart's too heavy. We can't push it all the way back to the top."
Aescelin nodded. "And it'll be boring," he agreed. "We have to do something new."
"Besides," Valentina continued, "no one who's still left will be dumb enough to fall for that."
"For an injured tribute?"
"Well, maybe not like that," Valentina said. "I'm just saying that most people would've questioned it at least once."
"The Spirit was with us," Aescelin informed her. "The Spirit assuaged his concerns to invite him closer to Their believers."
"Which would be… us," Valentina said.
"Exactly."
"You had a bunch of them in Seven, right?" she asked.
"Many," he answered, "but there was always room in our ranks for more. I only wish you could have joined us back then, Valentina, instead of having to come all this way. To think of all we could've done in Seven together…"
"Right…" Valentina trailed.
Truly, Valentina was one of the best followers of the Spirit that Aescelin had ever seen. Typically Aescelin had to do much more convincing to get his followers to enact the Spirit's justice on nonbelievers and nature destroyers, but Valentina never hesitated. Many followers cracked when nonbelievers begged for their lives, but not Valentina. She would've been an incredible asset back in Seven.
"Luckily," Aescelin said, clasping his hands together, "there is still much to do here."
Valentina eyed him. "Do you have something in mind…?"
Aescelin smiled. "I've been thinking."
Valentina mumbled something under her breath.
Aescelin ignored her. "I do like the poetic irony we were able to pull off with Two," he said. He gestured to the lingering visage as he spoke. "Using the mining equipment, which has destroyed so much nature, to slay a nonbeliever who would harm the Spirit's followers? Stunning."
"Gorgeous," Valentina agreed.
"But," Aescelin said, holding up a finger, "I continue stumbling on the fact that it occurred underground. It feels… wrong."
"It's not closer to the earth and all that?" Valentina asked.
"In a layman's interpretation, possibly," Aescelin replied. "But that underground space had already had the life sucked from it through the mining operation. There was no nature there, no forest. The Spirit felt farther than I would've hoped."
"I see." Valentina looked off toward the tunnel entrance, considering. "I wouldn't mind getting out of these tunnels for a bit. They're a good escape route, though."
"They are," Aescelin said. "They're also a bit constricting, don't you think?"
Valentina looked back at him. "Yeah. Why?"
Aescelin smiled. "Because if we have the space, and the ability… why not praise the Spirit as much as possible?"
"...In what way?"
"Valentina," he said, leaning forward, "we can do so much better than mine carts. Let's stop cowering in these tunnels and bring our love for the Spirit of the Forest into the open."
Valentina frowned. "And if tributes try to kill us-"
"Let them try," Aescelin interrupted. "Their deaths will be in the Spirit's name, just like all the others."
"Aescelin," Valentina said, slowly, "the Spirit wouldn't want to endanger ourselves unnecessarily. Otherwise, how can we… continue… to worship Them?"
"You underestimate us," Aescelin said. "My leg is much better now, and we're otherwise uninjured and well-supplied." They had received multiple parcels from the Spirit since the slaying of Two. "The nonbelievers have been tearing each other apart in our absence. Look at the Two boy, wandering here all alone. We are a threat in our own right, and the Spirit needs you to believe that. I need you to believe that."
Valentina thought for a moment, staring out the tunnel entrance as she mulled this over. "Fair," she eventually said. "But I don't want to draw more attention than we can handle."
Aescelin smiled again. "Oh, don't worry," he said. "The smart ones will see us and flee."
Valentina regarded him. "What do you have in mind?"
"It came to me in a dream," he told her. As he described it to her, Valentina became rapt with attention, the way all his followers did. Her mouth fell open and her dark eyes grew wide, and her fingers twitched closer to the bat. Aescelin could see his vision dancing in her eyes. He could see the Spirit filling her, emboldening her, the way it did him.
(And the best part was that all of Panem would bear witness. Panem would hear the Spirit's call. When Aescelin emerged victorious from the arena, Spirit at his shoulder and ashes behind him, Panem would have no choice but to heed the call. The Spirit's followers would swell, and the forests would be rebuilt.
Then, and only then, would Aescelin Ibbara-Ixtal be satisfied.)
Mendi Navar, 14
District 12, She/Her
8:32 PM
For the seventh time, the sun sank beneath the sky, and the anthem began to play.
(She'd been trying to find a way to tell him all day. She opened her mouth, but no matter what, she couldn't make the words come out- instead, the memories came flooding back, filling her lungs and taking her breath away. She didn't want the memories to come back.)
(Now, it seemed she could delay no longer.)
Two faces showed in the sky. The first, they knew: the boy who attacked them last night, who was apparently from District Three. The second was the boy from District Eight, who Mendi vaguely recognized from training. Then the sky went dark again.
Behind Patrek's shoulder, a ghost materialized.
(She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want to hurt him. But if she didn't tell him right now, then… then she might have to…)
"Patrek," she blurted out.
He jumped at the sudden sound. "What? Where?"
"No," she said. "Not- not that again."
He frowned. "What is it?"
"I, um," Mendi fumbled, "I have to tell you about- about something."
"...What?"
Mendi didn't look at him. She couldn't bear it. "It's, um. Tiernan."
"He's still there."
"I know." She took a deep breath, trying to stall. Then, not wanting the memories to come back, she thought better of it. "But he's there because… because…"
She heard Patrek shift among the brush they were hiding in. "Because?" he said. Mendi couldn't figure out his tone.
"Me," she said.
"You?"
"He's there because of me," she said, rushing through the words to make sure they all got out.
"...Yeah?"
"It's my fault."
Patrek shifted. She caught a glimpse of his hand stretching toward Tiernan's ghost. "Looks like it, yeah."
"He didn't understand," she said quickly.
"Understand what, Mendi?"
"He- he thought I was bad," she said.
"I know. He told me."
Mendi gritted her teeth. She didn't like that. "But I didn't do it," she insisted.
"Mendi," Patrek said, in a voice closer to Tiernan's than Bryony's, "what did you do? Did you kill him?"
She nodded, then realized it was dark and he might not be able to see her. Or, like her, he was avoiding looking at anyone. "I had to," she whispered.
"Why?"
"I- I wanted to help her," she said. "Bryony. I was trying to help, but… she, already…"
"You were helping?"
"And then Tiernan thought wrong," she said. "He thought that I would, um, I would do that. To her. He wouldn't believe me. And he said- he said I would kill Mother. But he was wrong, I didn't hurt Mother and neither did Father. And I didn't hurt Bryony. I swear."
Patrek didn't say anything in response. The silence dragged out so long that Mendi started to become afraid again. Patrek had a weapon, now, what if he wanted to use it, and she could feel his judgment hanging in the air between them.
(She'd felt that judgment before.)
(Peacekeepers pounded on the door. Her father's face turned pale. The question of her mother's whereabouts hung silently between them. And then the door slammed open and they were dragging Father away, but he wouldn't say anything- he was silent as always, as he'd always taught her to be, and Mendi's lips trembled with the force of withholding her sobs-
But if the Navars were silent, no one else was.
The Peacekeepers were shouting to be heard over the din, charges spilling from their lips like rain. People filed out of their homes and into the dirt road, every pair of eyes resting on the Navars. The spectacle. The family breaking apart before them, better entertainment than any Capitol broadcast. Mendi could see their mouths moving, but couldn't hear their words. She could see the scorn and curiosity and superiority charging the distance between them.
Mendi Navar's life was in tatters over false accusations and the worst part, in that moment, was how many people believed them. Father was bad, Father was evil, Father hurt Mother, Father hurt those other people too. And Mendi was his little girl.
So even now, she did like he taught her, and stayed quiet. She knew the truth.)
(But over time, the lack of an answer- the lack of Mother returning and Father being freed- piled on top of the whispers- ate away at her certainty. She had to tell herself the truth more often, more forcefully.
Father's not bad. You're not bad.
Twelve wouldn't see. Tiernan wouldn't see.
Would Patrek see?)
She forced her eyes to open.
Patrek's head hung low between his shoulders. But he wasn't reaching for his weapon.
"He attacked you?" he asked.
Mendi wasn't sure. It was all a blur of red and beige and blond. But to Patrek, she nodded.
He watched her for a long moment. Mendi wanted to squirm under his gaze, but she knew it would make her shoulder burn again. And her shoulder hurt so much. She'd peeked at it a few times beneath her clothes, and Mendi didn't know much about wounds, but she didn't think it looked good. She wished Father would come fix it.
"I could see that," Patrek said. "From Tiernan."
Mendi let out a relieved breath. She nodded again.
"I'm sorry that happened," Patrek said.
Mendi shrugged with her uninjured shoulder.
His gaze shifted to her wound. "How does that feel?"
"Fine," she said. Which was true. For the moment. She was probably fine.
(The same way Tiernan probably attacked first.)
He nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. "We have more disinfectant when you need it."
"Okay," she echoed. She didn't like the disinfectant. It made her shoulder burn more. He'd already offered it three times that day, and she'd only let him do it once.
He regarded her. "Can I ask you something?"
She nodded.
"Why'd you wait a week to tell me?"
(Because she was scared. Because she couldn't get the words out.)
She pointed at the ghost behind his shoulder. He turned, startling again when he saw Three lurking behind him. "Oh!"
"Yeah," she said.
He looked back at her. "You knew I'd figure it out."
She swallowed, feeling the pressure of his gaze on her shoulders even in the dark.
(Really, she'd only spoken now because she had no other choice.
But she didn't think he would like that answer. She needed something else.)
"...Yeah. Because you killed Three."
She could hear the frown in his voice. "Which I did because he attacked us. He stabbed you, Mendi."
Her shoulder prickled at the reminder. "I know."
"You wouldn't have said anything otherwise, would you?" he asked. "You never would've told me about Tiernan?"
Mendi hesitated.
"Okay. I see." Patrek glanced at the ghost again, flinching even though he should've known it was there. He would get used to it. Mendi had. The trick was to turn around as little as possible.
(And when you did, to not meet their eyes.)
"You can go to sleep first if you want," Mendi offered, eager to get off the topic.
"Fine," Patrek said, apparently also glad to stop talking about it. "Wake me up if anyone comes."
She gave him a thumbs-up. As he got comfortable for the night, she watched him closely, though she pretended not to.
(His hand never drifted to his weapon. Did that mean he believed her? He was okay with what she'd done? He knew she wasn't a monster, that she hadn't hurt Mother- and neither had Father? She'd mostly offered first watch so he wouldn't hurt her in her sleep. Should she sneak away now, while he couldn't see? But what if he woke up?)
(In the end, her indecision won out. Things would be bad if Patrek caught her leaving. Besides, she thought he believed her. Patrek seemed to know how Tiernan could be sometimes, and it wasn't like Bryony's ghost was after her, too. That was really someone else. Mendi had proof of that.)
(Still, as she sat beside Tiernan, scanning the darkness over and over again, her heart beat a little quicker than normal.)
14th: jude finnegan, d8 (killed by invincible gaultier)
kills:
aveline: 1
invincible: 1
bastet: 1
mercury: 1
tisiphone: 2
brizo: 1
aescelin: 1
jem: 1
patrek: 1
mendi: 1
alliances:
invincible, bastet, tisiphone (& chevre)
jest, tomo, jem
chase & fleur
valentina & aescelin
patrek & mendi
featured ghosts:
kyanna morse, d5, gilded cage (killed by berenice kavanaugh)
lucrece cavalli, d1, the wandering feet of qibli vestron (killed by qibli vestron)
true mckellar, d8, fool's gold (killed by tisiphone fotis)
brizo windrake, d4, fool's gold (killed by tisiphone fotis)
wisdom garland, d3, fool's gold (killed by patrek torres)
thank you to moose for submitting jude! i adored them man. i really don't know what you were thinking when you sent me a tiny child with insane dreams but hey i appreciate it sm! it was fun to play with reality a little (and to get to try the "it was all a dream" trope which. i have always wanted to do). but he was so sweet and really truly did not deserve this. love u lil kiddo. sweet dreams…
remember when i said this would drop in late april? big oops. as it turns out graduating from college is kinda time-consuming. but here we are again! lots of fun times right! i'm hopeful that you'll get another update this month but we'll see how it goes. will get the blog updated at some point n all that.
thanks again to goldie for the beta and i'll see ya next time!
rb