Epilogue:
Smax brushed up against Tigris' leg with a hungry 'mew' while her master switched on the boxy television set. A commercial break. The Victory interview had to be almost over by that point, at least past the recapping of the Games events. The cat at her ankles meowed again, and Tigris' stomach rumbled in response. Despite the intense nausea for seeing her design on the fractured screen, Tigris knew she could use a bite to eat herself. She crossed her studio into the kitchen, opening up a packed fridge where she picked over the fresh produce and wrapped cuts of meat to access the stacked tins of salmon pate. She peeled open the can and dumped its contents into Smax's bowl just as Coriolanus' voice came through her television's frizzling speakers:
"Tell me, Zizania… why did you do it?"
Tigris peered across the short distance between her kitchen and living room where Zizania's silent, scarred, and pensive consideration was being captured on the screen as her only initial reply. A wider shot depicted the audience waiting for a verbal response with bated breath- as well as the rose bloom ball gown of featureless, black chromatifur Zizania wore sitting across from Coriolanus.
"If you knew you were just going to be…" Coriolanus raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips: "…I hate to be indelicate, but- hung, if you knew you were going to be executed if you got to go home… why win at all?"
Zizania's dark, scowling eyes fixed on the dark mass of people in the audience, glaring into the sea of shadows as if searching for an answer there. Tigris felt a chill run up her arm, realizing the fridge was still open at her side. Past the produce within was the heart shaped cake inscribed with a frosting apology across its stale, buttercream top. Tigris reached in and pulled the cake out, crossing back to her sofa and sitting down with it as Zizania settled on an answer:
"You said we deserved to die." Zizania reminded Coriolanus.
Tigris looked down at the frosted words on the cake sitting in her lap:
'PLEASE FORGIVE ME.'
Tigris grabbed the words, squished them in her fist, and shoved them into her mouth.
"And I agreed with you." Zizania explained. "We all deserved to die."
Coriolanus would go on to announce Zizania's official executive pardon for her crimes on the behalf of President Volpe. The audience would erupt with all variations of glee, relief, and elation for Zizania's life as Coriolanus raised her arm above the platinum crown atop her head, forcing her to stand. The Victress seemed to share no one's enthusiasm. Tigris and Zizania stared back at one another through the screen with the same jaded expression until they both began to break open. Tigris felt the tears come streaming down her striped cheeks as a flurried confetti of red rose petals streamed down over the Victress from above like heavy, bloody snowfall. The chromatifur ball gown began to light up from the skirt's hem, and as the audience roared louder for Zizania- it only spread her aggrieved colors up her form further.
Tigris grabbed another fistful of cake with her barehand, crushing the plush pastry and soft frosting between her fingers with no regard for the mess she made. She gorged herself- shoveling handful after handful of cake into her mouth until her face was coated in white frosting, golden tattoos, and tears as the applause of the audience cheered the mess on. Smax leapt up beside Tigris and nestled among the carnaged remains of the cake plastered all over. Tigris wiped the frosting from her fingers on her old blouse to give the cat a scratch between the eyes- receiving a rumbling, contented purr in response.
The cat could not care less they'd not been returned to some luxurious high-rise by the Game's conclusion as promised. She was more than happy to be home. And Tigris agreed as much as she could agree. It all felt like a lie she massaged into Smax's mind. Her innocence, her trust, her belief Tigris would always be there to protect her- it was not reality. It was not a promise she could guarantee. The world was evil. The world would not caress between your eyes to lull you to sleep, it would very possibly sooner shoot you in that same place.
But Smax didn't believe that. And she didn't deserve to believe anything less. So, Tigris embraced that responsibility, migrating her massaging fingers beneath the cat's chin- much to her purring pleasure. And for a moment, the world was a fraction more at peace by Tigris Snow's hand. Smax had a right to an innocent world- even if it was a lie. And Tigris felt a duty to preserve that faith, protect any innocent expression of the cosmos, and believe that lie just as passionately until the day it was true.
Zizania collapsed into a sobbing, deflated pile of variegated lightning. Sparks of rainbow peeled across her Victory gown's petals like shooting stars against a stormy, red sky as she stared out into the rising sea of adoring fans jumping to their feet for her. The winner of the 25th Hunger Games glared up into the studio lights and falling flowers with her dark eyes, the final tear that Tigris saw falling down her cheek appearing iridescent.
Tigris wept along with Zizania. She struggled to understand the ultimate purpose of why their throats ached, hearts pained, and souls shook with such excruciating grief. But, covered in filth and still stuck buried in her hole in the ground, Tigris found the words to explain it to herself. She did not feel like a star. She did not feel like a monster. She just felt like Tigris.
And all she hoped for, is one day, that would be good enough.
THE END