Arriving in One, the first thing noticed was the shimmer. The towers, new and old, sparkling into the horizon. Shimmering skyscrapers, white houses, and the people. Almost all blonde, all smiling, padding through the clean streets. The heat rising off the paving, coiling and twisting and giving everything a certain haze.

I shepherd Peeta and Katniss through the streets, the latter with a scowl on her lips. It's her first time out of Twelve since the incident, and she's not in the best mood about having to come here. "Haymitch, why are we in One? I thought we were talking about Woof, and..." Peeta's tone is curious, trailing off for just a second. "He was from Eight, right? Real or not real."

Katniss touches his shoulder, and he flinches, "Real." Her tone is soft, pulling back instantly. Leaves me an opening I seize. "Poppy's not in the best state, and she's the only Eight left. One for four isn't bad, but her on her own... Well, she wouldn't have fared well. One had enough people to still have somewhat of a community, and she came here rather than go to Eight's war. She just stayed."

"On her own?" Peeta interjects, confused. "There's enough houses for that?" "They have spare rooms, she's not alone. Mink and Citrine have Poppy with them."

"Mink?" Peeta's got another question, but this time I wave it off. "You'll meet her, Peeta." "Her?", and this doesn't merit a response. Some people.

The trip proceeds without incident, the lovebirds behind me silent. I don't look back until we reach the checkpoint in front of the Village, manned by a pair of One soldiers. I give a smile at the berets, even as the younger of the two steps forward, pistol in hand. "Identification?"

"Haymitch Abernathy, this is Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. We're here for Citrine Furrier and her household?"

The young man turns to Katniss, offering a salute that turns her face green before shaking his head. "I'm fully aware of you, sir, but with all due respect we need identification. Part of the protections out here, because we need to keep our people safe."

I fumble in my pockets, and the soldiers' grip tightens a little. "Sir, you're going to have to do that somewhere else. District Security regulations."

By this time Sable, having noticed the situation, is outside, dark hair immaculate as per usual and wearing an apron over her trousers. "Oi! Pewter, Smith. That won't be necessary."

The female soldier turns to her, nodding seriously. "Ma'am. We've been instructed not to let anyone pass, and..." "And I'll vouch for them. If there's any issues, then on my head be it. Ok?"

A grudging nod from both soldiers, and the barrier swung down begins to lift up. Once it's up we walk under, and Sable slips Peeta into an embrace that sets Katniss glaring. I'm not quite sure what the problem is, but after a moment Sable steps back, smile broad while she gestures.

"Come on, then, before we have issues when Pewter and Smith decide we're being too friendly for their liking. Citrine and Mink, and I think Poppy too, are cooking up a storm in her kitchen and mine, so stay out of there. We can wait over in the living room?" Peeta moves to venture a question, but Katniss is there first, tone just a little suspicious. "And you aren't in the kitchen because..?" A light laugh as this draws a response. "Because I'm about the worst at that kind of thing you could meet. I burnt an egg, once, and now. Well, I go over to theirs for dinner most nights. Easier than letting me off the chain for anything more confusing than sticking a frozen meal in the oven until it's ready."

The response draws a begrudging nod from Katniss, a slightly brighter one from Peeta, and without further ado Sable turns and marches towards one of the houses. It's more well stylized than our own, all glass and wood and other materials, and looking relatively pristine and modern. It's a nice design, and as we're allowed through the pair of dark wooden doors and into the hallway, it only looks nicer. A set of short spears hanging from the wall draws a raised eyebrow from myself, and I can feel a hand on my arm. "No, no, no. Those aren't for anything more than decoration. They're bolted in, and."

"And?" Katniss says this. "Are they..." "Real. They're real. Mine. I was a good hand with a spear, and."

Peeta, infernal boy, interceded at this. "We're all on the same side now. No need for concern, no need to fight. Sable's very sorry, and to claim that we haven't killed would be... wrong. Katniss, you did things."

This causes a slight burst in her eyes, brown irises getting wider, before the sound of a door banging open diffuses at least some of the room for contention. A blonde wearing an apron, bearing trays of roasted potatoes and vegetables cradled in each arm, trundles through the room. As she sees us, a nod of greeting is given, the trays are set on the big table ringed by sofas, and she comes over. Peeta looks a little confused, until she smiles. "Hello! I'm Mink, Citrine's wife! I, well, I was using Sable's kitchen to do some cooking. Our ovens are all full, and, well. It's lovely to meet you!"

A round of introductions I don't feel are necessary with Katniss and Peeta, and then Mink takes up her trays, flashing another genuine smile in our direction. It's a little disconcerting, as it always was coming from her, but soon she's out the door, and is visible through the window turning to the house next door. As Mink passes out of sight, a tug on my sleeve draws us a little back from Peeta and Sable, and Katniss is looking up at me with confused eyes. "Women? That's a thing?" I'm confused, for a second, before bursting out with a guffaw that probably set pigeons in Twelve a-flutter. "It's allowed. Here in One, Five, Three. A few of the others probably. Couldn't give less of a shit, between you and myself. Never been one for romance."

She nods, eyes clearly still confused, before pressing the line of questioning. "So, you mean, it's ok?" This is more confusing, and draws another nod, before my voice turns softer for a second. "Sweetheart. Is there something you want to tell me?"

She hesitates for a second, before a smile trickles onto her lips. After that, a laugh, a laugh that creases her over. It's the first laugh I've heard her give in nearly three months, even if I'd assume Peeta has coaxed some more out of her I haven't heard. I'm almost disconcerted, even as she gives another giggle. "Haymitch. No. I'm with Peeta, and I've never really been into girls. Seriously, why the hell would you think that? I was asking a question and you just assume that."

A shake of her head, and she walks relatively quickly, following Peeta and Sable into the sitting room that's much nicer than mine. A sitting room appointed with couches, a set of hanging chandeliers that keeps everything nice, and the table previously hosting various roasted roots. I take a seat when the others do, and Sable gets down to business before any of us can start.

"So. Thank you all for coming over, Founding's day is an important thing, and." "Founding's day!" Exclaimed, by me of all people. I don't quite know what it is, but still. "You brought us here for what?" "For the founding of the Spire, silly! Final stone of the initial building was laid today, and it's kinda a thing. Citrine's got a turkey and stuff roasting at hers, and, well. It's a thing. Poppy's happy to speak after, but given she was quite looking forward to Founding's Day meal, and bear in mind One stopped fighting in the middle of the war last year to have it. Well, we're not missing it for you coming."

Peeta smiles, and I can already tell the boy is going to say something about how excited he is to participate in this important celebration. Thankfully, for all of us, he doesn't. Instead, he shakes his head and shoots a glance at his fiancee, before giving a more acerbic glance to Sable. "Really? Your kids tried to kill us, in case you don't remember. All three of us, for that matter. How many others? You commemorate that?"

This sets Sable aback. For a moment, I can almost see the cogs turning in her eyes, hear their whirr. Still, she regathers some sort of strength, and I can see the light beginning to come back. "Because your girlfriend didn't kill?" Katniss is putting her hands over her ears now. "Because you didn't take down Brutus? Just because we cared about our kids enough to protect them, to take two kids who actually believed they could win? Do you really think anyone wanted to?"

Everybody seems to be relatively silent, and for the moment at least the silence could be cut with a knife. Peeta puts his hands up, Sable blushes and mutters a 'sorry', and Katniss keeps her hands pressed over her ears. I'm staring out at them, all of them, with a disappointed confusion on my face. Eventually, of course, the situation is resolved. Citrine strides in, glancing around the room. "Sable, what the hell happened? I'm not exactly expecting a good story, but..." She trails off, noting Katniss. "Miss Everdeen. I'm glad you decided to come. As always, I'm in your debt." A smile is offered, before she straightens up with a bounce. "Now, lunch is ready. Sable, calm down. I'll ask for an explanation later."

Lunch is indeed ready. A nice, plump roast turkey, a great bowl of roasted root vegetables. Gravy, sauces, a thousand other things I can't name are laid out. It seems a bit wasteful even by One standards, and a wink is given when it's shown off. "We'll save the rest for later. I do love a good turkey.

The plates look well put together, at the least. Root vegetables, drowning in gravy, a sufficient amount of turkey, Mink leaning over to cut Citrine's up with her own metal knife and fork. It's only then that I notice the Victor's been given a plastic knife, one she picks up and begins using to saw her way through a potato with a laugh. I've seen the lack of cutlery before, ditto the service, but never asked why.

Katniss speaks first, rare words. "Miss Furrier." "Citrine, please. "Citrine? Why don't you have a proper knife?" A laugh from Sable, and Citrine nods. "Well, I've not quite gotten over my knifework in my own Games. Knives weren't my primary, I enjoyed swords too much for that, but the cutting I did was enough to tell me I never wanted to cut meat again. So Mink does it for me, and as long as I do the cooking we're in a good arrangement. The plastic knife is so I don't get urges to cut up something I shouldn't, like a Victor who asks too many questions or anything other than my turkey."

Her eyes seem to bulge a bit at that, and I choke back a laugh. "Katniss, every one of us is a mess. Even the careers. Speaking of messes, where's Poppy?"

Before anyone else can speak, Mink sticks her hand up, getting a tap on the shoulder from Citrine before speaking. "She's upstairs. She said she was too busy to do things, and I was more concerned with her wellbeing. So, yeah. I won't take criticism she needs that time to herself. She got her favourite plate, and she'll come down when she's ready."

I stand at this, shaking my head. "You know how she gets. If I need to drag her down I will!" "No!" This is from Citrine, Sable standing slightly at the words. "She's under my roof, not yours. As long as she is, she can do whatever the hell she's liked. She earnt it. And besides, you know she's more than a little high strung. Could cause shit, and I'm not sure she didn't get into my knives. So no, you're not going to drag her down the stairs. You're going to let her chill out until she's good and ready. Later."

I give a derisive chuckle, and in an instant a flying plastic knife whizzes past my head to plink lightly off the wall. Mink has a hand on Citrine's shoulder Victor's shoulder heaving for a second before she cools. "That's not necessary, Abernathy," Mink speaks, and I can hear an edge I didn't think she had in her, "We're all friends. Cee," a glare shot at her wife, "should not have thrown her knife. We are working on that. But if you try and cause issues under our roof, we'll have a falling out." After this glare, for the moment, I ignore what happens next, save for everyone sitting back down.

Lunch is eventually washed down, most people having seconds. It was good food, and Mink stands with a smile and a nod. "Well, all. I think I'm probably the best person to take you upstairs. Sable and Poppy will descend into playing some kind of game and Citrine's..." She glances at her wife, and gets a thumbs up. "Citrine's going to be too mean. You need a little bit of nicety, and unlike something else that falls to me."

"She's ready." Poppy's room is cozy. A bed with possibly too many pillows, the curtains drawn shut to keep it dark, and a lump in the middle of the floor with a blanket thrown over it. Sable steps over, knocking on an edge, and the blanket's drawn back to show Poppy.

She's not looking too bad. Hair washed, eyes wide and glittering. Certainly better than the last time I'd seen her, covered in blood during the mad run from the Wheel. She moves slowly, coming out of the sort of den, without a smile on her lips. Each of us are offered a quick nod, before Poppy steps forward and offers her hand shakily. "Katniss Everdeen. Peeta Mellark. It's a pleasure to meet you. Both of you. Paylor told me you were nice, I hope she was right."

Her words are slightly off-putting. I'm used to it by now, but to describe her as anything other than freaky to Katniss would from my point of view be odd. I'd been assured that the Capitol had some kind of name for the condition, something real and proper and a lot better than general creepiness, but. Well. Could you blame me. Still, I give a wave, realizing too late that might now be the best greeting. "Poplin. I'm glad to see you're still around."

She gives a small incline of her head, before stepping back. "Haymitch. I'm... happy to see you survived. I did see it on the screens, though. Anyways, come inside, please. Sit, sit, I brought some chairs in!"

Uncharacteristically emotional for 2 PM (personal experience speaking), she perches opposite us, her on her bed and us on chairs. She presses a button, and on the screen in front of her a light flickers to life. It shows a picture of Woof, and the light illuminates Books. Books of stories, fairytales, anything and everything that she'd gotten her hands on. In all honestly I'm a little surprised she managed to shift this much out of Eight when even my hidden bottles had been left smashed on the front lawn, but glossy covers suggest maybe they weren't as well-treasured as they had been, some even new. A half-eaten plate of the same meal we'd had, save for missing steamed vegetables, sits inside the den she'd been in. The childlike part of me

"Those are pretty, Poppy." That's Peeta, and I think the boy is being genuine. "What are the books about?" "Stories." My tone is a bit more dismissive, and Poppy frowns as I cut over her. "Poppy loves her stories." Three pairs of eyes flick down, and I take my seat again. Didn't even notice I'd stood.

"Poppy, we're here because you said we could talk? About Woof?" Katniss, surprisingly. "He seemed nice, during the training."

"No, no, no." She's shaking her head, hands lifting up, and Peeta glances at me with warning. Katniss offers a statement, seemingly trying to be nice. Maybe. "Poppy, I knew Woof. For a little. He seemed like a good man, if a little... away." Poppy nods, but her eyes are flitting round like a trapped bird. It's not a good sign.

Her hand flits up, hitting a red button I hadn't even noticed and before I can spin around and drink a bottle of white Mink's bust through the door, Sable in tow. A quick survey of the situation, and the blonde has made her decision. "Outside, please." I stand, Katniss does the same. Peeta as well after a moment. His sleeve is tugged, though, and he gets back down, Poppy smiling at him. "No, you can... stay."

Heading outside, I can see an arm interposed between me and Katniss and Sable, Mink stepping between us. "No, Sable. Down. I don't want bloodshed under my roof, and I don't want fighting. So you can go away unless you're going to cause no trouble, understand?" Wheeling on us, her tone is slightly more vicious.

"What the HELL were you playing at? Why was Poppy so... Poppy?" I shrug, and Katniss (to her credit) tries to protest. "No, we were just talking about Woof, and." "And you were told to ease her in gently. If either of you mentioned the pisstake that happened, well." She sighs, and shakes her head.

"And you mentioned where you'd met him, Everdeen?" "Well, yes." Katniss' voice is small, and she glances at Sable's angry glare. "But..." "No buts. Poppy's not in the best frame of mind as is, I'm sure you've been told. Do you need a chaperone?" The voice cuts like a teacher's, and in a rare moment of self-doubt I restrain it to a roll of my eyes and a shake of my head. "Then knock and wait for an answer. Then apologize. We'll be outside."

Knocking on the door, it takes a few seconds before I can make out chatter going on on the other side. I can hear Poppy's high, excited tones, Peeta's smooth voice. It seems like they're having fun. Indeed, when I push open the door, the boy's been welcomed onto the bed. "And then they say, like, I'm here to save the princess' and they're all doing it and then it always ends like that!" Her hands are drumming on her lap, and when she gets to the end burst up into a little mimicking of a firework explosion. It could almost be described as sweet. Peeta turns to me, and I see for once an actual smile on his face without Katniss, Poppy glancing at him warily.

Poppy nods, and we both offer an apology, one she catches and hesitates on. The 'thank you' is half-hearted but that's fair enough. So, with a nod, Peeta asks a question. "So. Poppy. What was Woof like? You knew him." This, again, causes hesitation before she speaks. "He was... well, his Games were long. He wasn't a fighter, ran and hid until he could challenge the Overseers on even ground. The tone of her voice, so matter-of fact as she talks about child fighting, is almost disconcerting. "Overseers?" Peeta lodges the question, and I see Poppy's hands wave again. "The bad guys. The ones who trained. The dragons and the ogres and the others, the... What did you call them? The..."

"Careers." Katniss finished her sentence for her, and Poppy gives a tight nod before continuing. "Yes, that. Them. Anyways, he hid. His arena was big, an old town on the shores of a big lake. It was nice, looked very peaceful. I went out there once, something about an Eight tour of Eight's arenas. Anyways, it was cold, but we were there in the winter. In the summer, it was bigger and warmer and wet. But, it was a town, and town enough it was similar to Eight. I think that was why he won?"

"Did he kill anyone?" This question is mine, because... I actually don't know. Woof was old, 52, even by my Victory. We were friends, more acquaintances, but he was never forthcoming on his arena, and none of us wanted to ask. What's left behind best stay behind. Poppy, though, Poppy nods. "Three. He was smart, for the first one. Came down and handled the Two boy, pretended he was injured and limped through the bowels of an old ship until the boy lost his footing and fell so far. Good trick." She takes a second, breathing, before continuing. "Then the One boy. The little girl from Eleven, she was so scared and the big beast was coming down on her. But then he came down and saved her. Like a hero. Like the ones from..." She waves her hands, and Peeta nods. "Like the ones from the books."

She laughs, and in an instant there's a change in her disposition. "Yeah! Like those!"

We're left waiting a while before she speaks. "The Seven boy. With his axe. The woodsman. And Woof was smaller but he was able to wait. Wait for the Seven boy to come in, and Woof knew about the creaky floors and the Seven boy didn't and

"What was woof like, outside the arena?" Another wait, another pause. "I didn't know him that well. Taffeta and Cecelia can't be asked, the rest all gone. Shaul, maybe," and of course Cecelia's husband would have been better but Shaul was staunchly refusing to discuss the Games for now. "Shaul's not talking. You're the best hope we have to write about him for now, you knew him the best. Poppy, please."

"He was muddled, by my time. Cecelia, Taffeta, they told me he was better once! Before. But now, no then, he was... off. He was nice enough when he was well, he'd always bring over toast when I didn't touch the toaster and he always tried to help shovel the city. But he was old, and when he tried Taffeta told me we had to send him back home and wait for the staff. So he didn't catch a chill." Poppy's shivering now, as if the cold is pouring into the room even when it's sunny and too warm outside.

"But he was always worst around Games time. That's why Eight only sent me and Cecelia, or me and Taffeta. We couldn't send all three, someone had to be there to look after him. He'd get all sad, and if nobody else was there everyone was worried. The maids said that they'd help but one of us needed to be there and it couldn't be me. They said I was too highly strung."

I nod, and she continues. "Besides, they were from One. Woof didn't like girls from One. Didn't trust them." This, of course makes sense. The Ones were good at what they did, it was just a shame that what they did had to be so problematic. "They were nice, though."

This vein of conversation is continued for a second, before Poppy tumbles back. "Oh, and he had a nice family." "Family?" Another surprise, and she shrugs. "Yeah. Silk, Spooler, nieces and nephews and their kids. No grandkids, that was what Cecelia's kids were to him though. He was nice."

"Always good on the Eve, too. That's a holiday, back home. He always came over to my house for a chat, and used it to scope out the books on my shelves. Made notes, even he didn't trust he'd remember them all. And every year, I got a new book. He was good like that. He got Cecelia a new photo album, photos he'd picked himself. Taffeta got... I don't know, but she found it very funny."

The conversation continues along these lines for a while. His favourite food was a kind of chicken, cooked in sauce and laid over rice. I remembered that, I think, we had it a few times, when we did a Victor's dinner. He always tried to help the kids at the Community Home, even spent his Saturdays down there helping out with whatever he could. He was fanatic about chess, even when he got worse.

He was almost glad for the Quell, when he was lucid. Poppy's barely getting the words out, stutter betraying her nerves. "He said it was... better this way. He, he. He wanted to do something to help. Something to stop it. If that meant his going away, well. He'd lived a long time. Best make something of his legacy."

She's shaking, and it's time to go. This is, even for me, too much.

Downstairs, we're intercepted by Sable. Sable, with flowing hair and a frown written over her lips, as she nods. "You want to watch it? Before the end?"

I've seen it a million times, rewatched it. Cursed Coin, her lackeys, most of Thirteen. For Woof, for Cecelia, for Mags and Chaff and Blight. But I have to again. "Sure."

We're led to a room of plush chairs, each of us taking a seat. The screen flashes on, Woof's face for a second.

Millet's making a move for the other side of the Cornucopia. Katniss, Finnick, Peeta, Mags are away by now, and the rings of clashing metal are audible. Beetee's too focused on the cornucopia when the man from Nine drives the knife down, but before he can take another stab Woof's come in from off-screen with a spear in his hands and Millet's backpedalling now. Running in is Blight, his machete in hand, but one glance from Woof and he's got Beetee over his shoulder, making towards the jungle.

Woof may be 77, but he's still lucid. Hale enough to sweep his spear forwards, eyes clear. One last stand, one final chance to prove himself. Millet's furious, wants to go after Beetee and finish his kill, but glances tossed at the water with increasing mistrust betray something. He can't swim, or doesn't want to any more. So he's trapped, unless he wants to take his chances in a slow paddle.

Woof's tiring, though. That energy expenditure from the spear is taking his time.

A movement behind him. Cashmere, hair dripping with water, big blue eyes wet with something more. Woof's able enough to menace Millet with a spear, but the blonde's behind him and he can't hear her. A twist of her lips, Sable pausing the video. "She said she's sorry." Her knife flashes, into his neck. Woof collapses, like a puppet with his strings cut, and behind her I can see Johanna running for the Cornucopia, Millet behind her. Cashmere has to hear it, of course she does, but she's running offscreen.

"He died well," I say, and I mean it. He did. The other three give the same kind of nod, before Katniss speaks.

"He died a hero."