|
|
Post by 𝐸𝓁𝑜𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇 on Jul 29, 2019 9:04:41 GMT -5
For Dream: If young Amadrya were in the Games oneshot "Amadrya Darrow!"
A twelve-year-old girl stood in the crowd in the square in District 7, wearing her nicest dress and with her hair done in an elaborate style. The girl had dark hair, lightly tanned skin and sharp grey eyes. She was a slip of a thing really, scrappy and slim, but while she lacked fat she did appear to have lean, springy muscles uncharacteristic for someone as young as her outside her district. Lots of the children her age in District 7 were similar, skinny but showing some sinewy muscle. She was a little tall for her age, her gangly limbs suggesting she would grow to be a rather tall young woman.
Though her chances of growing up were now severely diminished.
The Capitol escort's eyes were searching the crowd now, crowing the name again as she searched the faces of the crowd. But Amadrya's time was up; with the calling of her name, the girls surrounding her turned to look at her, backing up slightly. The escort's gaze fell on the nervous young girl.
"Ah, there you are, dear. Come on up!"
The woman was beckoning now, but there was a slight impatience in her demeanour. She would have to get this over with. And so, with the crowd parting around her, the brunette took a few shaky steps towards the stage.
But she looked over her shoulder suddenly, her head jerking as her attention was pulled by the sound of a commotion from the boys' side of the square. Her youngest cousin, Linden, was crying out and struggling to reach Amadrya, or so it would seem. He was only a year older than her, at thirteen, but despite his younger age his emotion seemed to give him strength. It took both eighteen-year-old Ackley and sixteen-year-old Firth to hold him back.
"Maddie, don't go up there!" Linden was screaming "You can't! Someone volunteer for her, it isn't fair!"
"Do you want the peacekeepers to get involved?" Amadrya caught Ackley's warning over the breeze
But Linden appeared inconsolable, and his crying caused tears to prick in the girl's own eyes.
"I'll volunteer," Ackley could be heard suggesting to Firth, "Volunteer for the boy and go in with her, protect her. I'm bigger, stronger..."
"And guarantee that our family loses someone? You can't do that, Ackley." came Firth's reply
Firth's words were accompanied by Amadrya's own reaction. She caught Ackley's eye, and shook her head subtly. He could not volunteer. It would benefit nobody. Ackley seemed to understand that, and nodded. But he looked pained
But the cameras were on her now and the Capitol escort seemed to be growing ever more impatient. Amadrya figured it was more than time for her to ascend the steps to the stage. She did so, and was directed to a spot to stand by the Capitol woman.
"Alright, now that's done," the woman said with a tight smile "it's time for the boys"
While the woman disappeared to choose a male tribute, and the cameras were away from her for a moment, Amadrya took the opportunity to wipe the tears still lingering on her cheeks. She would not be seen as a weakling, she would not let her cousins or her district see her cry. She was already going to be seen as weak, a goner already because she was only twelve. And she accepted that, she knew that. But why on earth should she lower her chances just because they were already low? No, that was not going to be what she did.
----------------------
It was time for the interviews; the young girl was dressed in a floaty knee-length dress, various shades of green colouring the fabric. Her eyes had some green eyeshadow and were lined with gold eyeliner, and her lips were the red of autumn leaves. Her hair was left loose and decorated with leaves, and little glowing lights like fireflies. She looked like what her name meant; a tree-nymph. She had been told to go for young and innocent, her stylist and mentor unable to come up with another angle for someone as young as Amadrya. They didn't know her at all; they didn't even seem to know how much she hated dresses.
And as she walked across the stage to take her seat she refused to go along with it, her arms were crossed and she was almost scowling.
"Well, don't you make quite the image, Miss Darrow?" chuckled the interviewer as he gestured for Amadrya to sit down.
She did so, crossing her legs but still not moving her arms from their folded position. She could imagine her mentor yelling at her about this, but she honestly didn't care anymore at this point.
"Now, Amadrya, how are you finding the Capitol?" the interviewer asked, clearly hoping to draw some comment from the young girl after her initial silence.
"It's great, but I'm sure my talking about the Capitol isn't what everyone tuned in for tonight," Amadrya shot back.
She wasn't wanting to make friends anymore, or to get sponsors. She was here to speak the truth, to let her anger about these Games radiate. What difference would any of this make anyway to her actual outcome of the Games?
"Okay, well, tell us about your family."
"No, my family life is private to me, I don't feel like sharing that with all of Panem. Some things have to be kept sacred. Besides, I'm twelve, don't I have the sympathy card on my side already? All you need to know is that I have three cousins and my uncle."
"No parents?"
"Dead."
She would not give this interviewer anything. Perhaps if she played this how she wanted to, she would get sponsors still, sponsors who appreciated her bravery and honesty. SPonsors who might think she had more of a chance than every other twelve-year-old who came through and pretended to be innocent. That never got them anywhere; innocence earned them sympathy but the strategic betters avoided them when possible, they weren't viable victors. Perhaps she could differentiate herself and mke herself seem like someone that could be betted on despite her youth. But if she didn't? It wouldn't harm Amadrya, she knew she wasn't going to survive anyway.
"Alright, and what kind of skills do you have that might benefit you in the Arena?"
"Well, I'm strong for my age, I can climb. And stop me if you've heard this before from, I don't know, literally every other District 7 tribute ever, I can use an axe pretty well."
"An axe?"
Amadrya nodded.
"You're an intriguing young girl, Amadrya. I take it you plan on playing offensively?"
"Within reason; I'm well aware that I would be unlikely to survive an encounter with many of the older and larger tributes this year. But I can hold my own in a fight. And why shouldn't I play offensively? Just because I'm the youngest tribute doesn't mean I have to do everything the same way every other twelve-year-old before me did, running around and playing the cute card for sponsors. Every other twelve-year-old tribute before me has died, somehow I think getting off the beaten track might be my best bet."
That seemed to get the crowd's attention.
"And are you ready for the Games?"
For the first time in that interview, Amadrya felt like the crowd was hanging on her every word. They actually wanted to know what she had to say, they weren't disregarding her just because of her young age, as they had been before
"Oh, I'm ready, but I don't think anyone else is," Amadrya said with a chuckle.
........................
It was mid-way through the Games, and to be fair Amadrya was shocked that she had even survived this far. An injury thanks to one of the Careers had left her unable to travel, and so she had gone into hiding after running from the site of the attack by the careers, where she had previously been hiding out. Now she had a new base, but it could hardly been called that now that she had been separated from all of her supplies, which had undoubtedly been claimed by the careers.
She had gotten away from the careers with a broken leg and an injury to the torso. She had managed to suppress the bleeding from her torso, but hadn't completely stemmed it. She still couldn't really walk, though she had tried to. She was weak with the blood loss and lacking the use of one of her legs. She had, nevertheless, been attempting to find water for a couple of days now but to no avail. She was severely dehydrated, and it had gotten to the point that travelling to find water was causing her to become too weak, it was worse than her just staying still. She had to conserve her energy.
She knew that water was getting too expensive at this point in the games and her mentor was probably focussing on her district partner anyway, who she knew was uninjured and safe with his own stash of supplies somewhere across the Arena. She wouldn't be getting any water from sponsors.
She lay in the new building she had made her home, staring outside the window at the dusty Arena outside. It was dark inside the building, and cool, which was helping her a little. But it was bright outside, which was pleasant too.
She couldn't speak now, she was too hoarse, and she could hardly move with her weakness. Her mouth was dry, her lips chapped, her vision getting hazy.
The twelve-year-old was slowly drifting in and out of consciousness, and she knew now that she would lose consciousness again soon and likely not wake up. That way okay, it beat the way most kids her age died in the Games. An easy kill for a Career, a practice kill to get warmed up. She had survived longer than most people her age did, or at least the ones who weren't in alliances anyway. Perhaps she had even made Games history by being the longest-lasting twelve-year-old ever. She doubted it, but perhaps. It didn't really matter to her anyway.
She thought about home instead, her family and the trees and the forest, letting those thoughts fill her mind as her breathing slowed and she felt her pulse faltering. Her eyes flitted shut and she heard the distant sound of a canon.
Cassiopeia oneshot Cassiopeia, unlike many girls and boys in District 4, didn’t have a mother or father to bid her farewell when the reaping came. She was only left as the product of their victory years ago, but just recently, her parents died, her father, a victor, had died shortly after his wife did. Cas, even if no one would tell her, suspected suicide.
It left her often feeling worthless, and she was watched by other family, an aunt and uncle who never really spoke with her mom or dad much, and ones who never understood her, her issues. They didn’t know she was actually mute, they thought she ignored them, that she chose to be so, so they quickly took to disregarding her, and often forgetting her. She had to fend for herself at times, and that was hard for a 12 year old to do between school and chores that were put on her.
Still, she had a type of purity and belief in others, despite her hard life off the bat, she had hope. She always had hope in others, call it innocence, or kindness, but she knew that the games didn’t define Panem.
Yet, she knew, she just knew, that when Louden stood on that stage and announced the 5th Quarter Quell’s twist, that maybe her trust and hope may be a little misplaced. Victor’s children would be chosen, to show that not even the kin of the bravest and strongest could escape the actions of the first Revolution.
So on the morning of the reaping, she got dressed, wearing a dress of soft lilac, one that accompanied her short scarlet-tinted hair rather well, and her blue eyes. A perfect mix, fitting to a sweet flower.
She left, afraid and having no one who understood her to counsel her, her mother and father would, but they were no longer there. The thought brought a soft wetness to her face, threatening to spill, but she wiped them away. Her gaze flickered to the mirror before her, she looked soft, delicate. Almost like a doll.
She didn’t want to break though, she still had to leave.
Leaving was hard, the mother had stopped her before she left, scoffing about “Oh, no goodbyes?” Before rolling her eyes and walking off.
Cassiopeia didn’t feel a lot of anger, just sadness and guilt. She wanted to thank them, to tell them bye, and wish them a good day. But she couldn’t, and so she just waved softly, keeping her gaze low as she exited the house, and headed to a rather empty looking square.
She winced as they pricked her finger, she didn’t like the feeling, and it was her first reaping. She felt like some fish in a trap, and she didn’t like that either.
And it worried her, so many parents waited just outside the square, and only a few children were there. More than that of District 12’s square, most likely, and more than most district’s, but not many at all.
Cassie walked into line, noticing a rather stressed looking girl, one that was older than Cassiopeia, she was the youngest in that square by far, but the girl was still younger, probably 15 or so. Noticing her worry, Cas could pick up on emotions well after all, Cas grabbed the other girl’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and offering a soft smile.
The girl, for her part, looked up shocked, but smiled softly, mouthing a soft “Thank you,” before turning her gaze forward.
Cas smiled, but her gaze flew to the guy on stage, a extravagant male with wild hair and makeup. She hated the look, too forced, and not natural at all. But she gulped as he approached the girl’s bowl.
She was very nervous, for herself and others. She may not have been to a reaping before, but she hated the idea of someone being forced to go and die.
“Ladies first!” The man called to the small crowd, and the tension was set. Unlike Districts 1 and 2, District 4 was career still, but not many tended to volunteer every year. Sometimes some did, and others didn’t. There was no telling for the current year.
She watched, with a held breath, as he reached into the girl’s bowl. His hands curled around the name of an unlucky girl, pulling it out, and opening it with purposely slow movements, to build tension. Approaching the microphone, Cas waited with fidgeting hands.
He finally leaned forward, taking in the crowd, before speaking a name, “Cassiopeia Laqueta!” He called.
Her name.
Her name...
She was frozen to the spot, a hushed silence fel, through the crowd as they looked for the unlucky girl, and she was shaking, visibly shaking, with wide eyes.
Those who knew her parted for her, and those who didn’t parted ways for her.
The male on stage made eye-contact with her, and she unfroze slightly at the slightly sympathetic look he bore, not for long, and maybe unnoticeable to most, but she could see it. She could see people, perhaps better than most. She could read them like a book.
Peacekeepers were starting to approach, and she moved subconsciously, raising her hand to her heart as she walked.
Silence, just like her, filled the others, and her shaking stopped some. Her gaze passed some as she walked towards the stage, delicate steps on her path, and made eye contact with some.
She smiled. For them.
It wasn’t a grin, or snark, it was to comfort them, those who seem conflicted and troubled. Because that’s who she was.
And finally, she came to the stage, glancing at the man as he took her in.
“And how old are you, Cassiopeia?” He questioned softly, obviously trying to get her to be less nervous, he couldn’t read her well now, but he saw her earlier, shaking and frozen.
She froze again, unable to speak, she raised her finger to her lip, a ‘shush’ motion, and then grabbed his fingers delicately, surprising him a bit, and forcing all his fingers to uncurl, before raising them slightly, happy to see him following the movements, and keeping them up.
She then backed up, and held up 2 fingers close to his, before making eye contact again.
“You’re 12 years old?” He asked, unsure, his accent thick, making the words almost hard for her to hear over the wild drumming in her ears.
She lowered her own hand, and nodded, before turning around and scurrying to her area, watching him as he went to pick out a male’s name.
She was surprised to see the soft, reassuring smile staring back at her from the girl, and the resilience and anger that reflected from the crowd before her, though it didn’t seem to be directed at the young girl.
She offered a soft smile back, but the tears that escaped and rolled down her cheeks couldn’t hide the fear she felt.
Amadrya and Macaria oneshot Amadrya Darrow
The fire-eyed maid of smoky war
It was the first night in the Arena, and it was Amadrya’s turn to keep watch. Macaria was on watch at the same time, which the District 7 girl supposed was fair enough; there was a lot of distrust still within the group and so it made a lot of sense to have more than one person on watch at a time. It made sure everyone was safe.
The night air was sharp and chilly, and the two girls had set up a small fire to protect them. Nobody would hunt the careers anyway, and they needed to keep warm through the night.
Both girls were bathed in the golden light of the fire, and the smell of woodsmoke surrounded them. It was almost pleasant, as the sharp features of Amadrya and the ruthless glint always in Macaria’s eyes were softened by the warm glow.
It was still a little uncomfortable, because after all the girls didn’t like one another. Amadrya hadn’t forgotten the exchange between them at the Cornucopia during the bloodbath and she was under no illusions that Macaria was nice or at all trustworthy. Macaria had probably been planning Amadrya’s death since before they got into the Arena.
So they both sat in a very awkward silence for a while, and Amadrya’s grey gaze dotted from the flames of the fire to the arena around them to the sleeping figures of Alessandro, Sapphire, Halina and Everest.
But then Macaria broke the silence.
“Thank you.” she had said, seemingly to nobody at all.
Amadrya knew, despite the lack of eye contact, that Macaria was genuinely trying to thank Amadrya. But she had no idea why.
“What?” Amadrya asked, a little surprised
“For saving my life at the Cornucopia. That was...cool of you.” Macaria responded with a small smile.
The District 2 girl’s tone retained its usual sharpness, but she actually sounded very genuine. Amadrya didn’t reply though, unsure what to say, until Macaria spoke again.
“Why didn’t you just let him kill me?” Macaria asked “You could have been one career down, one step closer to home, and it wouldn’t have affected anything. The pack would’ve been down one person but it wouldn’t have broken up. You could have taken the pack down more easily if there were fewer people to worry about.”
“I guess that’s just the difference between you and me, isn’t it?” Amadrya responded to the other girl
She had seen someone in danger who needed saving, where Macaria would have seen an opportunity.
But Amadrya’s tone had been harsh, and a little hostile, and so she decided to try and rectify that by speaking again, this time a little more nicely. Her sharpness had been unnecessary.
“I gave my word to be part of a team, and I stand by my word,” she explained after a moment of silence “and anyway the more of us there are right now, the more likely we all are to survive.”
And at that moment the girl turned her grey eyes over to the sleeping form of Everest. Macaria’s gaze followed hers, and a small smile was on her face when she looked back at Amadrya and her face was once again illuminated by the firelight.
“So you and Everest, then?” the other girl enquired
“There is no me and Everest,” Amadrya replied evenly
“Oh, please, we really don’t have to lie to one another,” Macaria chuckled knowingly “you’re so obviously head over heels I’m embarrassed for you.”
“So?” Amadrya responded a little too defensively
“So let me tell you something about Everest. I’ve known him a lot longer than you have. He isn’t going to admit how he feels about you even if he feels the same way, this whole thing is pointless. You need to stop pining over him if you want a chance of winning. You and he are never going to be a thing, and it’ll be better for you if you rip that bandaid off right now.”
“I could say the same about you and Romeo over there,” Amadrya pointed out, nodding towards Alessandro
“Oh, honey, you’re mistaken,” Macaria smiled “Alessandro and I are both careers, we know what we’re getting into and what the risks are. You’re not a career so you don’t know how dangerous it is to be with one. You’ll let your feelings run too deep and I guarantee Everest will, no matter how much he cares about you, stab you in the back if it gets him closer to winning. It’s all he’s been raised to care about, unlike you.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Amadrya asked “wouldn’t it be better for you to say nothing and let me fall for him? That would be a huge advantage for you.”
“Because the fight is no fun if it isn’t fair,” Macaria said with a shrug, “and it’s really a waste, it’s sad to see such strong contenders being so weakened by their emotions.”
They fell back into silence, but then Amadrya heard a whir, and saw a glint of glass. A camera. Had Macaria deliberately made sure they both talked about their romances in front of the camera? Amadrya felt a new respect for the other girl. She’d made sure were telling a compelling story, guaranteeing that the Gamemakers would keep them both alive at least a little longer. She’d even very effectively established a rivalry between them, another story the Capitol would be eager to follow.
It seemed that Macaria didn’t like to owe people either, and in repayment for Amadrya saving her life at the bloodbath she had given the other girl a better chance in the Games.
But she knew this didn’t change anything between them. Macaria still didn’t trust her and didn’t like her. They were just even now.
She didn’t think she’d ever fully figure Macaria out. Amadrya torture/flashback oneshot Amadrya Darrow
The fire-eyed maid of smoky war
They tortured the prisoners, of course; sometimes they wanted information from them (what little they had anyway) and other times it was merely for fun. Despite their attempts to follow Holly's advice the Capitol quickly caught on to the very effective strategy of using Everest and Amadrya against one another. And there was no torture worse than seeing Everest in pain, which he was whether it was him being punished or her.
But right now it was her turn, and Amadrya was strapped to something similar a hospital bed made of metal, or perhaps like an operating table. It didn't matter, both brought the clinical and uncomfortable images of hospital. She was absolutely soaked in water, which she was actually a little grateful for. It was unpleasant and she was cold but honestly it was the closest thing she ever got to a bath here.
She was dirty. None of the dirt from the Arena remained, of course, because she'd already been cleaned up once or twice to appear on TV for the Capitol. But that didn't matter because the dirt always returned, grime mainly from not being able to wash and with the dried blood from the injuries inflicted on her.
Her hair was loose, which she never usually would do, she had only worn it in its recognisable braids in front of the Capitol's cameras. It was unkempt, thick and wild, or at least it had been before it had been soaked; it now hung lankly. She'd gotten thinner too, and her body was littered with cuts and bruises. She didn't recognise the creature she had become, whatever it was.
She was tired now, that was all she was. Tired from the pain and fear and suffering and tired of being strong. She tried to continue to defy the Capitol, she said nothing when they interrogated her, but she was growing exhausted and weak and she didn't want to fight any more like she had from the moment she'd been reaped. But she didn't have a choice.
It was at that moment they started the electric shocks, the girl crying out in pain as her body convulsed involuntarily. She didn't want this, she wanted it to be over. The pain was getting too much now, the jolts spreading a shooting pain through her body that felt like it threatened to burst out of her skin at any moment.
She had to do the only thing she could to cope with the pain. Thinking of Everest didn't help her because he was in the Capitol too, suffering just like her, and that knowledge brought her no strength or joy. No, the only things that brought her the peace and strength that allowed her to deal with the torture were her memories back in District 7.
-----------------------
"Darrow! We're done!"
That was the call for the end of the workday. It was the summer of Amadrya's fifteenth year, and the girl waved a thanks to the worker who had let her know before storing her axe away in the toolshed a little distance away. They kept the shed out here, outside the fence so that they could check the workers weren't bringing them back into the district. They said it was to prevent the theft of government property but everyone knew it was just because they were terrified by the idea of letting anyone carry weapons that could potentially be used in rebellion back into the district.
The other workers had gone for the day, which meant Amadrya had a little time. She didn't hunt, because she didn't have a bow and because the fence surrounding the district was often electrified. The electricity used to be patchier but since some rumblings had been heard in the district a couple of years back it was always electrified. The forests where most people worked were outside of this fence and so they didn't tend to turn on the electricity again until about an hour after work ended to give everyone time to get home. That meant the girl had some time to gather food.
Her family rarely had more than what was necessary for survival really, and since Amadrya lived with three teenage boys who seemed to always be hungry even that was sometimes not easy. Whenever she got a few moments she liked to gather some plants her parents had shown her when she was a child, things to fill out the meals at home.
She collected wild grains to fill out their flour, and even nettles, which could be used to make twine or even soup or tea. There were plenty of fungi around but the girl never risked those, since she didn't know which ones were poisonous or not. Wild garlic was also added to her collection, as well as mint. They could help liven up the otherwise bland meals if necessary. She put the plants she collected into a few pouches hanging by a belt at her waist.
And that was when she recognised a tall plant forming dense clumps of grass a little distance away with drooping heads. Pendulous sedge. She approached it and grabbed one of the heads, running her thumb along it to reveal the small brown seeds in it. Perfect; they could be ground into flour. She collected as many of these as she could.
It would take her about fifteen minutes to get to the fence again, so she had plenty of time, allowing her to wander a little further into the woodland. That was when she came across a thick bush of raspberries, which delighted her. It was very rare she find something like that in only the hour she had to wander the forest. She would have to note the location of this plant so she could return again. Berries were rarely seen on her family's table.
And that was why, with some time to spare, the girl climbed one of the tallest trees she could find nearby, going as high as she dared without risking breaking the branch she perched on. And she watched the sunset for a few minutes, snacking on a few of the berries she'd collected that day and letting their sweet flavour burst on her tongue.
Beautiful golden sunset, the soft rustling of the leaves in a gentle evening breeze, and the fresh air around her. Amadrya really didn't think she could have asked for anything better.
And in that moment she felt like maybe, just maybe, life wasn't so bad.Young Holly one-shot An alarm was blaring, and green eyes fluttered open, staring numbly at it. The clock read 7:00am, hours before the reaping. Yet somehow, Holly Alandria couldn’t find herself to care.
Raising herself up, she went through her daily routine, brushing her teeth, and then taking her shower. A shower that she remained in, staring at the drain and the water whirling down, it started off warm, and became ice cold. Raising a single hand, her right one, she numbly noted her fingers pruning.
Deciding she had enough of the shower, she shut off the water and exited, noting the clock once more. 8:00am, an hour after she woke.
The house was quiet, as it had been for almost a year. She kept a job as a seamstress’ apprentice, and the house was hers to keep, her parents had owned, and she just had to pay for electricity, food and water. All of which she could cover with her job’s money.
Finally dressing in a black and white blouse and black pants, along with black flats with white flower embroidery, she went to do her hair. Her hand raised to latch onto the ebony strands, surprised and still not used to the shorter length, yet taking a white ribbon, she tied it up in a tiny ponytail, with the ribbon tied into a bow and the tails hanging down.
Nothing else walked in the halls of the home, and the small girl was headed out the door towards the square. All of District 8 would be there to see the fate of two unlucky children.
Yet it was just another day, or so she thought...
District 8 was full of factories, Holly refused to work at them, ignored the, most of the time. But as she entered the square, and followed her age group, the looming factories caught her attention. The district of textiles.
Home, this was home. It was empty, but it was still home.
Her green eyes flew towards the stage, behind all of the older kids, it was almost hard to see. But the representative of the district, the chooser of names, was on stage, already beginning the yearly introduction.
“Welcome all!” The lady began, her hair bright blue and styled to look like a waterfall, Holly rolled her eyes at this, they were always so weird.
Then again...
“Now, I have the great honor of choosing the tributes who will represent District 8 in the 86th Hunger Games!”
Then again, this was only Holly’s 2nd reaping, but the death of family tended to cause depression and extreme annoyance, at least, it had with her.
The 13 year old girl watched the video they played every year, one she saw on TV a few times, but only once in person. She ignored it, for the most part, last year she had been scared of the reaping, but her mother and father had comforted her, even if her father was rather stoic, her mother was kind. Yet about a month later, she lost both, her mother died, and her father left her.
Suffice to say, this year, she wasn’t as afraid, she wasn’t really afraid at all. Apathetic? Yes. But afraid? Not really.
The video ended, the lady jabbered on for a good 5 minutes, before she finally spoke again, “Now, ladies first!” She trilled, standing before the bowl.
Unlike other children, Holly was young, 13, so the cumulative year build up only caused her name to be entered twice, and she took no tesserae. The likelihood of her being chosen over most others was low, especially the older kids, who due to the cumulative year build up would have their names entered multiple times.
It should be impossible for her to be picked that year, but...
“Holly Aladria!” The lady called, a slip of paper in her hand, and Holly froze in place.
Me?
Why her?
Yet those around her who recognized the unlucky girl backed away, and those who didn’t followed suit. She was like a plague, lost her family, and now certainly lost to death, no 13 year old ever won the games. The youngest victor ever was Finnick from District 4, and he was 14.
The woman in stage bored her eyes at Holly, a bit annoyed. Yet white noise existed in her ears. No, no, no, no!
“Holly Alandria?” The woman said again, and it registered to Holly, yet before she could force herself to move, a peacekeeper grabbed her arm, starting to force her forward.
She didn’t mean to, she didn’t mean to, but she elbowed him, hard, right in the gut, panicked by the man and the fact that he was a peacekeeper. Peacekeepers killed her mom.
He looked stunned, angry, and her hands covered her mouth in surprise at her actions. Yet she was confused as his gaze softened, he recognized her...
She recognized his face too, he used to talk to her parents a lot, he wasn’t there when her mom died, but she was sure he would have tried to stop it. Yet he couldn’t move before another pushed past him, approaching Holly with a raised hand and slapping her, hard, across the face, a small scratch formed under the right side of her right eye from a metal band on the glove, and yanking Holly’s hand and dragging her towards the stage. She was helpless to fight, and cradled her face with her other, free hand. The little cut was bleeding, but she knew pain.
She let off a small cry as he forcefully pushed her onto the stage, and she fell to her hands and knees beside the woman. Scurrying upwards, she stood in her spot and stared downwards.
She didn’t care who the male was, someone she didn’t know, someone much older than her, 18 years old. She shook hands with him when she was told to, and she remained silent.
She was dead, and yet somehow it seemed like some comfort all the same.
She spoke to come tributes on the night of the interview, dress in a blue long dress with a over-the-side shoulder cape, she was the youngest. Two people were 14, and most were 15 and older. Yet some people tended to speak to the girl, especially when they spoke to her. She was sarcastic, sardonic, and not at all the innocent sweetheart anyone expected.
Her District part, Sebastian, was a nice guy, for the most part, but she didn’t talk much to him. He saw her as weak and too rude. She couldn’t care less, she wouldn’t be working with him in the games. He was dressed in a similar outfit to her, a bit more plain, but the same color scheme.
He was talking to another girl tribute, one his age from District 7, laughing and joking. She could see it already. They would die, that was obvious.
Too friendly, too nice. Not exactly in love, yet, but certainly too close. The games were won with kindness.
And despite her hate of the games and hate of her own life, she wanted to try. She had no one to remember her, she didn’t want to kill for no reason, but maybe in self defense? She was more nimble and agile than most of the others, not strong, but swift. She was rather smart too, and could hide out most of the games.
She knew survival skills, she had to fend for herself for a year. She was sure she could make it further, probably not win, but make it far.
With newest determination, she faced forward, the parade went by like a flash, and Sebastian sent her a glance halfway through, his voice was soft, “You’re going to go far,” she mentioned out of nowhere.
Her gaze flickered to his brown one, curious and confused. “What?” She whispered back.
“I may not like you, but your like everyone else, a kid forced into these games.” He commented, “And instead of letting it destroy you, you’re still standing, you’ll make it far.”
She stared forward, not knowing how to respond. His words echoed in her mind, and even long after that parade, that night, she kept pondering it.
The night before the games was set for interviews, and Holly was glad not to be dressed in some overly fancy gala dress like some other girls. Yet she wasn’t happy with her outfit either, a red offshoulder long sleeve shirt and a mid length, almost long evergreen skirt. Her hair was laced with green leaves and red berry-shaped gems, with it left flaring out at the ends, not tied down or up, and her makeup was a soft evergreen. It wasn’t overdone, but it was a bit annoying.
So when she was called out, she barely battered an eyelash at her introduction, the male interviewer who she didn’t care to remember the name of greeted her, “Everyone, from District 8, Holly Alandria!” He started, and she waved slightly to the large crowd.
When she was seated, she crossed her legs and smoothed out her dress, and then fixed him with her evergreen eyes, her attention on him.
“So, Holly Alandria, I must note your stylist’s choice in outfit, it’s-“ he began, only for her to calmly interrupt.
“Yes, it’s a pun on my name,” she commented, causing some laughs in the audience.
“It sure seems to be!” He laughed out, before glancing at her, “Now, more seriously, what have you left behind at home?”
“Oh, nothing!” She piped up in response, almost laughing at the irony of the question, “I’ve left behind absolutely nothing,” she added, a almost joking tone to her voice that caused more people to laugh at the way she answered the question.
“No boys your interested in?” He added teasingly.
“Oh absolutely not, I’m 13, I’m too young for that,” she responded, shaking her head, “Or maybe I’m just not interested in that, I don’t think many boys would like being in my company.” She explained sarcastically, her tone sardonic per the usual.
The room was filled with small chuckles, and so did the man before her. “And why is that?”
“You’ve met me,” she gave a deadpan stare, “You already know what I’m like,” She added.
“Alright, Alright, next question!” He added, shaking his head with a good laugh, “What skills do you feel will help you out in the arena?”
“Is my wit not enough?” She asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow with her arms crossed over her chest. “Well, I’m guessing my snark is out of the question,” She added, rolling her eyes, “I dunno, I think that’s for me to know, and the others to find out.” She finally said, and he nodded in reply.
“One last question,” he commented, and she smirked.
“Aww, I don’t get to ask one?” She said with a pout, causing some laughs, she was of course joking.
“Oh sure, go ahead!” He played along, obviously doing so for the crowd, who seemed to enjoy her humor.
“Alright, Sir,” she began with a formal tone, obviously a soft, teasing one, mimicking him, before falling silent and tapping her chin, her gaze lit with slight annoyance, before she finally piped up again, “Oh never mind, this is a lot harder than it looks, you deserve a raise.”
Again, laughter filled the theater, no one expected the youngest tribute to be so snarky and witty.
“Alright, now Miss Holly,” he began.
“Usually it’s Miss or Mr Last Name but yeah sure, let’s go with it,” she piped in.
He moved on with a light shake of his head, “How do you feel about being the youngest tribute going into the games?” His tone was a little more down to Earth, calm and solemn.
She waited a moment, thinking, before fixing the crowd with a shrug, “It shouldn’t make a difference,” she commented, before looking back at him, “Should it?”
He paused, before smiling, nodding at her reply and standing up, in which she followed suit, and grabbing her hand to raise it, “Holly Alandria of District 8!” He added, and she walked off the stage with a apathetic look once more.
That seemed to go well.
She waved goodbye to her stylist, Sebastian had bid her a goodbye that morning, and she was now in her tube, ready to enter the Arena and start the games.
When sunlight returned after a few moments of darkness, the countdown had begun, and the girl glanced at the arena around her. It seemed darker than usual Arenas, with a mountain-like terrain and many dips. She already noted to watch for huge falls, and already knew that’s how many tributes would die.
She was sure there were caves too, by the look of the arena, and she counted down along with the timer, her gaze on the cornucopia for just a moment. If she went, the Careers would hunt her down, thinking her age made her an easy target. She couldn’t risk it.
Her gaze trailed to her left, where many jagged rocks protruded the ground and cliffs filled her sight. She would go there, not many tributes would. They would run for safe locations, and that’s where the Careers would most likely hunt first.
Smirking slightly, she barely took in her surrounding tributes before leaping into the air when the timer sounded. She was faster than almost all of the others, yet she had no interest in where many of them ran,
Her feet carried her elsewhere, her game of hide-and-seek had just begun.
Her reaping outfit:  Her Parade outfit:  Her Interview outfit:  Amadrya/Louden Capitol interview oneshot Amadrya Darrow
The fire-eyed maid of smoky war
Louden sat in a chair opposite her, a cup of tea in hand. The cameras weren’t rolling yet, and so he made no efforts to smile or appear non-hostile. His eyes swept the girl up and down.
“Make yourself comfortable, girl,” he warned “you won’t get much opportunity for comfort anymore.”
Well, the chair was comfortable, and even though Amadrya hated Louden she wasn’t about to extend that to Capitol furniture. This was the nicest seat she’d sat on in a long time, mainly because her last seat had been the floor of her cell.
“You look nice, too,” Louden smirked “if you had won we could have made you into a Capitol darling.”
She did look rather different than she had before the interview. Her hair was clean now, and shiny, and it was perfectly styled. It was not in its braids but for its first time in Amadrya’s entire life her hair fell in perfect glossy dark waves. She had lost a lot of weight during her imprisonment and the Capitol had taken advantage of this by putting her into a very tight-fitting dress, cinching her in at the waist. It was sparkling and very restrictive (which she hated). Her lips were painted a rich, deep red and her grey eyes were enhanced by dark eyeliner and mascara. Her skin seemed to have a satiny glow rather than being dirty and covered in cuts and bruises. She looked glamorous, and it hit her that the Capitol had never went for the ‘sexy’ image when they styled her for the Games but they seemed to be doing that now.
“You could have tried, and I would have still hated the Capitol just as much,” Amadrya replied coolly
“Keep going like that and see where it gets you,” was Louden’s only reply
But suddenly the cameras were on, and they were live. Louden was smiling in front of the camera, doing some spiel Amadrya wasn’t listening to about rebels and punishments and the superiority of the Capitol. And then he was looking at Amadrya.
“And you will have all noticed that I am joined by one of those tributes, a certain Miss Amadrya Darrow, who I have to say is looking beautiful this evening courtesy of the Capitol. Let’s talk about you, Amadrya.”
“You can talk to me if you like, sir, but honestly I’m exhausted - probably because I haven’t slept in days, courtesy of the Capitol - and chances are I won’t care enough to answer.”
Louden gave a tight smile but did nothing else. One of the peacekeepers shifted though, giving the girl her warning.
“Well, anyway, it appears that a number of the rebel tributes this year have something in common. I believe that you, much like District 8’s notorious Holly Alandria, are also an orphan.”
“Where are you going with this?” the brunette asked suspiciously
“I thought you and I might talk about your mother, that’s all. What was her name, Elowen?“
Amadrya blinked, a little taken aback to hear the name. She wished she had an image to put to the name, something to remember. But she didn’t, nothing at all. All her uncle had ever told her was that she’d had Amadrya’s grey eyes and that her father had loved her more than anything.
“Yes.” was all she said, but she swallowed and that small action seemed to tell Louden that he’d found an emotional topic.
“Now, I did a little research, and it seems that a Mrs Elowen Darrow died in childbirth around the time you were born. An awful waste, really, she was young. Tell me, Maddie, how does it feel to know that you caused the death of your own mother simply by being born?”
The use of her family’s nickname for her, the accusation in the question, the awful deep-seated feelings of guilt that Louden had expertly pulled at. All of that made Amadrya’s heart to race as she tried to slow her breathing, trying not to panic or get emotional. That would be fatal.
“I won’t talk about this,” Amadrya replied, but there was a slight tremor in her voice that was never normally there. Emotion she knew the president would pick up on.
“Very well. How about we discuss Everest? A romance that I’m sure captivated the Capitol at home during the Games, and one that despite the fall from grace of you and your District 2 crush I’m sure our audience would still like to know about.”
“Are you expecting any progression in our relationship since you locked us up here?” Amadrya asked with a raised eyebrow “Everest and I are not together, and I won’t talk about him any further with you. It’s not like the audience don’t know we’re being tortured and used against one another by the oh-so-benelovent Capitol.”
A flash of anger appeared across Louden’s face.
“You’re forgetting your place, Miss Darrow. A little girl, a kid from District 7, and a rebel at that. You’re little more than a child, let by your emotions and anger, and only dangerous because you had an axe in your hand. Nothing compared to the power of the Capitol. You rebels will all soon be forgotten, and that’s why I brought you on air today. To show Panem that you’re nothing.”
Amadrya rose to her feet.
“Oh, I believe you’re forgetting my place, actually, President Louden. My place is not in this dress or in front of this camera. I won’t be used by you like I’ve been used by the Capitol since the moment I volunteered.”
It was at that point she stalked out of shot of the cameras, walking towards the peacekeepers who had been waiting nearby.
“Take me back to my cell or so help me I’ll kick up a fuss until you have to drag me back there unconscious. I won’t say another word in front of those cameras.” she said, her voice quiet but dangerous
She had the peacekeepers backed into a corner, apparently, because after a moment of consideration they grabbed her arms and led her back into the darkness, leaving a triumphant President Louden to talk to the cameras. He’d still gotten a reaction from Amadrya, despite her best efforts, which was all he needed.
(I felt inspired, sorry! This is kind of based on the events of the fic but it isn’t actually a part of it, I just wanted to explore her feelings about her mother and just general stuff tbh including her reactions to being a Capitol prisoner xD)Ackley Darrow oneshot Although Ackley Darrow was now twenty-four years old, he could remember the first time he had met his little cousin as clear as day.
When he was six years old, he suddenly heard pounding at the door of their little family home while he had been playing with his younger brother, Firth, who was four at the time. Their father had looked a little nervously over at the handmade wooden crib where a baby slept, obviously concerned that the sudden noise might wake the child. But one-year-old Linden was out for the count.
Nevertheless, Ackley watched as his father stood to answer the door, where the knocking was becoming ever more insistent. The child smiled to see that on the other side was his uncle, grinning and breathing quite heavily. It was obvious the man had run here all the way from his house.
“The baby’s here,” was all Ackley’s uncle could get out, but that was all that was needed; Ackley saw his father’s face light up.
“Really? The kid’s been born? Congratulations, Nairn,” he grinned, beckoning his brother in.
Nairn simply shook his head, obviously not wanting to come in. He’d probably be running back home almost immediately.
“A beautiful baby girl,” Nairn nodded “happy and healthy.”
“And Elowen, is she okay?” Ackley’s father asked
That was when a shadow seemed to come over Nairn’s face for a moment, and he swallowed.
“Well, she’s not very well. They’re coming to take her to the apocethary soon so she can hopefully be treated.”
“Ah, well not to worry,” said Ackley’s father, “shall I bring the boys over to see the baby?”
“Well, maybe just Ackley since he’s a little bit older,” Nairn suggested “but of course!”
It was decided, then; the kindly next door neighbour agreed to watch Firth and Linden for an hour or two while Ackley and his father went to visit the new baby.
It was a short trip over to the house, and not long after they got there Elowen was taken off to the apocethary. Ackley’s father suggested that he and Ackley stay with the baby while Nairn went with his wife. Nairn agreed, which was probably for the better; none of them could have known that Elowen would never come home again.
Ackley asked to hold the baby and his father obliged, making the little boy sit before holding the baby and sitting beside him carefully to make sure the child was safe.
The little boy stared in wonder at the tiny little thing in his hands. It wasn’t the first baby he had ever seen, of course, but he had been almost too young to remember the births of Linden or Firth. This little girl was tiny and delicate, with huge blue eyes (which would later turn grey) and hints of dark hair.
“She’s beautiful,” Ackley said breathlessly before looking to his father, “what did Uncle Nairn say her name is?”
“Amadrya,” his father said “they’ve called her Amadrya Jane Darrow.”
“Amadrya,” the boy repeated softly as he gazed in wonder at his new baby cousin.
He’d protect her no matter what.
——————————
Ackley has many memories of his younger cousin and his brothers, but one of the ones that stuck with him most was when Amadrya was about fifteen and Ackley had been around twenty-one.
He had just been returning home from work when his teenage cousin had come racing towards him. Her hair was in a dark braid woven with a strip of leather, and it streamed behind her as she approached him, stopping him just before he entered the house.
“Ackley, you have to come quickly,” Amadrya insisted
Her voice had an urgency in it that made his stomach twist. It must be bad for her to be so concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Ackley asked in return
“It’s Firth,” Amadrya responded “in the square.”
That was all she had to say before the young male took off, charging towards the square as fast as he could go, with Amadrya following behind. He heard the yells long before he got there.
And when he arrived in the square, he was so glad Amadrya had called him. Sixteen-year-old Linden had been shoved to the side by some peacekeepers, who were beating nineteen-year-old Firth savagely in the square. A crowd surrounded the scene.
“What happened?” Ackley asked Amadrya
“Forgot to return his axe to the toolshed, walked into the district with it.” Maddie responded
Ackley didn’t need to hear any more, and he rushed forward only to be restrained by peacekeepers and held back. He struggled, but to no avail. There were simply too many of them.
“Leave my little brother alone!” Ackley yelled
Those words seemed to spur Amadrya into action, and the girl ran forward too, managing to only just dodge the peacekeepers who tried to grab her until suddenly the teenager was in front of the peacekeeper beating Firth.
And she aimed a very powerful punch at the man’s face, knocking his head back. He was wearing a helmet, though, so her actions seemed simply to have made him angry rather than actually hurt him.
Within moments Amadrya had been restrained by two more peacekeepers, with the one she had punched about to turn his wrath on her in punishment.
“Wait!” Ackley yelled over everything
By some miracle, he caught the attention of the peacekeepers
“Look, Maddie is just a kid, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s hotheaded, she gets angry, she didn’t mean any harm,” Ackley assured “and Firth isn’t a revolutionary, he’s just forgetful. We don’t cause any trouble, we’re good workers, can’t you just let this one go?”
There was a moment of silence, but reluctantly the peacekeepers released all of the Darrow children, and the crowd slowly dispersed. Ackley approached his brothers and cousin, looking over the bruised and bloody Firth.
“Firth, Maddie, you’re both idiots,” Ackley said bluntly “you’re lucky you have me to keep you out of trouble. Let’s get you all home.”
Amadrya 1st POV oneshot I know there used to be a time where people had something to look to. Gods and heroes and great warriors. Hercules, whose great strength and cunning earned him a place among the immortals. Perseus, Theseus, Odysseus. Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons and a daughter of Ares himself. Athena, Ares and Artemis from the Greek pantheon. Freya, Odin and the Valkyries from the Norse.
Symbols of war and rebellion but also of valour and strength and bravery. Formidable warriors and givers of hope and divine inspiration. But we have long forgotten the gods and heroes we knew so well thousands of years ago.
Perhaps if we knew them still the hopelessness and dejectedness that has covered our land for as long as I can remember might not be here.
Maybe that is why the stylists who would later plan our escape from the arena tried to mould me into some kind of symbol of strength. Something I would not consider myself. The shieldmaiden, they called me, no doubt to call forth images of warriors on the battlefield.
I’d thought it was dumb, another attempt to try and make it seem like the Games were at all like a real war. Now I know the simulated war of the Games was not the war they were envisioning.
They knew the rebellion was coming, and that the people needed warriors and heroes again. In me they could see strength, in Holly intelligence and resilience, in Ari kindness and perseverance, in Burton optimism and laughter, in Macaria ruthlessness and determination, in Alessandro bravery, in Halina cunning and curiosity, in Everest the ability to stand up for what one believes in. In all of us they could see friendship, love and loyalty. The stylists knew what the people needed, and they gave it to them through us.
I considered all of them my friends, apart perhaps from Macaria and Alessandro, though I hold no bad feelings against them now. Most of the Careers I had gotten to know pretty well in the Arena, and when I later met Burton and Holly I got to know them too.
Somehow, though, as I sit in the Capitol, far away from most of my newfound friends from the Arena, I could not feel less like a hero.
I was much changed after a period of torture, but I’d really rather not discuss those changes because nobody really needs to know about all of my injuries or about how much weight I lost. The Capitol, though, clearly not satisfied with the results they had been getting from Everest, Holly and I, had come to me with an ultimatum. Louden himself had personally come to see me, as I lay awake with Holly and Everest sleeping in adjacent cells.
“No,” I’d said tiredly the moment I had seen his stupid face looking at me from outside my cell, interrupting him before he could even speak.
“At least pretend to listen to what I have to say first,” Louden had responded, sounding a little amused
“I don’t really need to,” I had sighed “I really can’t be bothered to be tortured right now, but if you come to me after a few hours of sleep you might have better luck.”
“Actually, my dear, I’m here for...let’s call them diplomatic discussions.” Louden had answered
“Okay, well I don’t see the point in those. I have absolutely nothing to lose and no desire to come to any agreement with you, so I really don’t see this conversation going well for you.”
“Well, you would be right if it were in fact true that you didn’t have anything to lose. But you have everything to lose, Amadrya, and your everything is sleeping in the next cell.”
My voice had turned fiery then, as I spit out my words like crackling flames.
“I really wouldn’t be threatening Everest if I were you. Don’t you dare touch him.”
“I don’t intend to,” Louden had said lightly “provided that you help me out a little in return for his continued safety. He can have a much more peaceful time here in the Capitol, all I need is something from you.”
And that is how I got here, the opposite of the warrior for the rebellion that they intended me to be. Instead of being a symbol of strength, I have become one of betrayal as, to protect the boy I love, I have become a traitor to the rebels.
I appear on screens across Panem once every day or two, saying whatever the Capitol want me to say. I always said I wasn’t a pawn to be used by someone else, and I had always thought I had been stronger, more principled than that.
But Everest is my greatest weakness. I had never anticipated that love would be my downfall, but time and time again since the Games began it has been. Holly 1st POV oneshot That is, I think it was Tuesday when I lost the ability to apparently properly think.
Now, I don’t see myself as someone petty, someone selfish, or an idiot, but....my flaws and faults definitely add up. Angry, sarcastic, sardonic, apathetic, you name it, and I most likely possessed such a mood, but I never thought I could be so jealous.
Especially in a situation that put me within a cell of the Capital, tortured. And no, my jealousy wasn’t about some roundabout way of saying ‘I want to be free’, that was human and understandable.
I was jealous of them. Amadrya and Everest, who had one another. They loved one another, and I never could have that.
And no, this isn’t about some boy either. I like Burton, but I know he likes me too, as a friend, but even then, I’m not certain of my own feelings. It’s not like I can wish for something I’m not giving back, that would make me a hypocrite, and no offense to the Capital, but I’m not the Capital.
No, this ran much deeper. They had each other, someone to lean on in their darkest times. Someone who would protect them. Even if they would die, most likely, within a few weeks, they had comfort in one another. They loved each other, even if they skipped around those emotions.
Who did I have?
No one but my overalert imagination and a callous man who tortured me for all of Panem to see. Which is unbelievably enjoyable and not at all a living hell.
My parents were dead, and afterwards, unlike Amadrya, I didn’t have any uncles or cousins to help me out. Unlike Everest, I didn’t have victors for parents, if I had, I would have been better off, covered by their earnings form the winning of a Game years past. But no, I had neither, and no one cared when the girl with black hair that looked like charred embers and striking green eyes that almost resembled emeralds lost her family. She was just a girl, a girl who may die. I was just a girl.
I said so in my interview for my games, and I meant that. It held a deep meaning, maybe one only I could understand. I was just some girl, another girl, an unlucky girl, who unluckily had her name called, just like 89 girls from her district had before her. Most of them died, a select few lived with haunting memories.
I didn't win nor die, thanks to Amadrya, and somehow my mind was even sour about that.
Everest betrayed his group just to be with her. But who would do that for me? Who would risk death just to save some random girl. I wasn’t Amadrya, I wasn’t brave, even with my facade. I was a coward. I didn’t stand up for those I loved, President Louden mentioned my mother once and I hadn’t uttered a word in weeks. Granted, the first week I was withheld, I was healed after I was shot, just enough to live, but enough to feel the pain. Gladly, though, Louden was in a tough spot, with my injury it was constant torture without morphine or pain killers, but he couldn’t beat me daily unless he wanted me dead.
Unluckily, the punishments went on to Everest and Amadrya, and somehow it felt worse. They had someone who genuinely loved them, and they had to watch that person suffer. Who would miss me?
But his threat loomed over me, reminding me, and his words haunted me. You wouldn’t want to be hung like your mother, would you?
Of course I didn’t want to live like this, but despite my brave words and anger at the time, I was scared, like a hurt animal. It brought me back to that day.
Everest, to my left, was softly chatting with Amadrya. The first day I returned, they tried their best to get me to talk, to tell them about what happened. But at this point, I wondered if I even could. I hadn’t talked in weeks, and I didn’t have the motivation. Depression and anger clung to me like a disease.
“Do you think she’s okay?” I picked up, the masculine voice of Everest looming over towards me, and I glared at the ground. My mind was putting in a Yes, I’m fine, we’re not stuck in hell or anything, but I didn’t talk. I didn’t flinch, or move, Amadrya answered with something I didn’t pay attention to or care for.
They should worry about themselves. Yet of course Amadrya would never settle down, she seemed selfless, and even if she hated herself for obeying Louden, I saw this as more powerful and strong then I could ever be. I wasn’t a shieldmaiden, not like her. My name going into those games was ‘The Hollow Heart’ or simply, by some, ‘Hollow Heart’ or ‘Hollow’, due to my distant and closed off behavior. I was, for lack of better terms, the apathetic type, and as terrible as it sounded, the cries from others didn’t touch my heart in the way it should.
It fueled my anger, but one could say that witnessing the events of my mother’s own death made me immune to seeing others in pain or die.
Everyone lives, everyone dies.
And yet I would wince when Louden came and beat them, but I would never speak, much to his joy.
Silent was never a talent I considered myself as being, but I was sure getting good at it.
“Do you think they hurt her?” Amadrya asked Everest then, and my head swung to glare at her, raising my eyebrow in a condescending manner, a question of what the hell else would Louden have done.
He surely didn’t teach me tricks and feed me treats while saying ‘Good Puppy!’
Amadrya picked up my point, rolling her own eyes, “Sorry, I guess that was a dumb question.”
I nodded, I may not speak, but I sure as hell could still get my point across easily. I’m sure I wore something akin to extreme annoyance at her, I would apologize, but that’s a waste of time and air, especially when I didn’t mean it. But they were talking still, so it didn’t really matter.
That’s how I usually fell asleep, I had no idea whether night or day was current, my guess was night, for that’s when the only true feeling of peace came. The conversation carried on softly, and lulled me to sleep, as it had many times before.
I dreamed of two lovers and a child, a lightly tanned girl with brunette hair and bright blue eyes running through a forest with two figures walking slightly behind, words a softly calling to her. Lovers that were the ones she was near.
But a storm came, a man, who the parents feared and the child paid no heed to, and just like that, the sweet child was taken by him, forced into an arena, killed by others, and the man sat grinning all the why.
I had no idea why Louden was in my dreams, or why Everest and Amadrya had a child, both were obscene, and the latter would never happen, I was sure.
But a dream is a dream no less.
—
I was dying. Or maybe I’m dead and this is hell?
Yeah, I change my guess, option number two is more fitting for my torment.
I had to be, there was no other explanation for the pain I was feeling. Not just emotional no longer, but not quite physical either. It reached my core, my heart, writhing around it like a snake, tightening in my lungs until I could longer breath.
Going from the rebellious and loud girl I was, to silent and haunted, was simply like reliving a memory. But seeing her break was the equivalent to bleeding out in a slow and miserable way.
The warrior, the hero, the strongest and bravest girl I had known, who shared my sentiments, was standing on a stage, dressed up like some doll for the Capital. She spoke their words, scripted and pristine.
Louden stood to me, and it occurred that he struck some deal with Amadrya nights back, when Everest and Amadrya lulled me to sleep due to their soft words, hidden in the invisible moonlight. That had to be when, I didn’t know how, but the dream was all too real.
He was in my dream for a reason, and I hadn’t dreamed of him before. He was the menace, the storm, the true enemy.
Everest was gone, not gone gone, but he wasn’t there, perhaps under Amadrya’s suggestion to Louden. Though I knew a TV set was waiting with him, just to watch this exchange.
Me breaking, or well, seeming to break, was one thing. My glances, expressions, my outward reluctance to ever speak for him, those all marked me as silently rebellious, Sure, I was careful. But Amadrya’s defiance was broken down to this. I knew it was for Everest, and yet it broke to even see it with my own eyes.
I felt betrayed, and the jealousy was consuming me again. She had someone, and yet she was betraying them by trying to save them.
Would she have done the same if it was just me and her?
I hoped not, but a part of me was upset, as a child, after losing my family, I only had one friend, Catastrophe, as I so-fittingly named my cat, was the only friend or family I had. I wanted that, family.
I came to think of the other’s as family, excluding Macaria and Alessandro, but even now that was shifting.
“I am-“ Amadrya’s voice rang out, an obvious disgust, perhaps only one Everest, Louden and I would recognize, rang in her words, well-disguised from anyone who didn’t know how she responded to torture. This was Amadrya’s new torture, Everest’s was watching it.
Mine?
It wouldn’t hurt, I would like to say, to break my silence, but it would.
That would hurt a lot.
“I am glad to be with the Capital, finally understanding Louden’s point of view,” she said, a fake smile on her face, and Louden straightened his posture, grinning from beside me.
I flickered my gaze to him, he hadn’t noticed my movements, and I let off a hollow laugh.
That got his attention, his eyes questioning me as Amadrya’s voice droned on.
“You think you’ve won?” My voice rang out, surprising both him and myself, I hadn’t spoken in weeks, I had been silent, not speaking since he mentioned the threat towards me. But now I was rekindled, my flame no longer felt as drenched, and fornthe first time in weeks I felt a purpose. For once in my life.
He remained silent, eying me with a gaze full of warning, challenging me. Well, challenge accepted.
“You’ll never win,” I added softly, my laugh falling away as my face set in a grim line, staring at Amadrya, and surprisingly, he didn’t move. He just remained, like we were two people just chatting up a storm.
“You’re mistaken-“ He began, careful not to make a scene, and as I had learned, unbelievably curious about my intentions.
“I am not,” I assured, as if trying to comfort some old friend, of course, that was my seething sarcasm, already laced in my newly used voice. “And no matter how much you torture me, us, in the end it will not matter,”
To my surprise, he didn’t interrupt me, he only waited for me to finish, and so I did, taking my chance to calmly speak.
“What you do not understand, Louden, is that we do not matter, this torture is an example, but since when have the people of Panem followed an example? Every set of new games brings a new strategy from the tributes, every stylist had their style. Here, in the Capital, and out there, in the districts...” I paused for a moment, taking notice of his hand clenching, before I grinned slightly, “it doesn’t matter. If people want a revolution, they will stop for nothing to get one.”
He contemplated my words for a moment, turning them around in his mind, he didn’t reply angrily, just as calm as myself, “So none of this in the end will matter to you? If you somehow lived, you think all this pain would fade?”
“It doesn’t matter, pain is only pain in the present, but only a memory in the past, I may be traumatized but what happened here, but life doesn’t stop for broken hearts and shedded tears.” I commented in reply, almost automatically. I believed the words, I wanted to, anyways.
“Just like the ‘trauma’ of your mother’s death?” He asked, a callous smirk on his face.
At first, I was overcome with boiling rage, but my gaze flickered to Amadrya on the stage. She could no longer fight in my place, and if I kept letting a simple mention of a dead woman bring me down, I was doomed from the start.
“Funny,” I commented blandly, my eyes still on Amadrya, “You know what makes us tick,” I added, before smirking myself, “But I know what makes you tick.”
He looked curious, and I stared ahead, letting my feelings clash with one another. A soft tide, soaking calm, tethering me to my spot, refusing to let me run.
“And what’s that?” He asked when I never finished my statement, and I clicked my tongue in reprimand.
“Obvious,” I commented simply, “You don’t know whose going to kill you first, the rebellion or your own people here in the Capital.” He knew I was referencing all those who turned on him, but also those who stayed on his side, those who were blamed him for the growing rebellion.
He froze, glaring at me, and I laughed slightly again, “Sorry,” I claimed, “I should know that’s obvious, of course it’ll be poison, perhaps mixed in your food tonight, or maybe tommorow, or even a month from now.” the shrug I gave was noncommittal, “Either way, I guess I’m trying to say that you need to watch your back. Who knows when it’ll be you, and not me, in that cell.”
Of course I got a beating for my words, but then again, you could say I beat him to the finish line.
I don’t think he noticed the echoes in the halls, or the unique uniforms masking silhouettes that snuck behind them during their chitchat.
Though, that wasn’t a surprise, I was always one to pick up on the little details.
And the next was a tiny token laying on the ground, just enough glimmer to catch my eyes. I little coin, that’s all it was, but I smiled at it all the same. A coin of District 8.
They’ve come.
(Warning, warning, this isn’t exactly canon to the fic.) Happy ending oneshot It must be maybe ten years since the 90th Hunger Games, when one nightmare ended and another began. Sometimes it feels like I never left the arena, but luckily I have my husband to pull me out whenever I feel like I’m back there. A husband who understands everything I’ve been through.
Everest and I got married a few years after the start of the rebellion. They had busted us out of the Capitol some time before and the rebellion was in full swing still, and it was a very dangerous and dark time for the rebellion. We’d felt there was no point in waiting for a time of peace.
“We could die any day, Maddie,” Everest had told me “and if I die I want it to be with a ring on my finger.”
And so that was what we did. A small wedding, with most of the rebels we knew attending, including the tributes from the arena that had survived up to that point. We were the first of the tributes to get married, a title we are rather proud of.
We waited until after the rebellion ended, though, until we had a child. War was not a place to bring a child into the world. And so we have a beautiful daughter, who just turned five.
And that is how I find myself standing in a ruined city, the buildings so destroyed it is hard to tell which were already destroyed when the Arena fell and which were toppled in the carnage. The buildings bring back some hard memories.
The Capitol used to keep the Arenas for awful holidays for their residents, now they are kept as museums and monuments so that we never forget. We never let the Games happen again.
This final arena is impeccably preserved really, you can practically still see our footprints in the sandy ground. I walk hand in hand with my husband, my free hand resting on my pregnant belly, as a little girl with tan skin, dark hair and bright blue eyes runs ahead of us.
“Don’t go too far, Ayla!” I call out
We have come out to meet some of the others, finally seeing one another face to face after so many years. And that is when I begin to see figures approaching me from different directions.
A man with brown hair and brown eyes walks alongside a woman with coal black hair and emerald eyes. Two little girls around Ayla’s age barrel ahead of them, one with hair somewhere between the brown of her father and the black of her mother, and Holly’s shining green eyes - and I’ll be damned if that isn’t Burton’s smile. The other girl looks neither like Burton nor Holly, with bright blonde hair and blue eyes, and I know that this is their adopted daughter. The two girls seem to see Ayla and, in an unspoken agreement, they all divert to play a small distance away from their parents.
A woman with dark hair and distinctive green and brown eyes is with a man with dark hair and blue eyes. A little boy runs between them, dark-haired like both of his parents and with Alessandro’s eyes. His eyes hold the keen intelligence of his mother, though. He heads off to join the girls too.
“Play nice, Milo,” the boy’s mother cautions
I rush forward as fast as my pregnancy allows first to embrace Holly, the girl who went through everything in the Capitol and the rebellion with me. Even though I know she struggled because Everest and I had one another, we did become close in the Capitol. Being tortured in front of one another and spending as much time in adjacent cells as we did does that.
“It’s been too long,” is all I can muster
It’s all I can do not to cry; I’m not an emotional person but this reunion is enough to make my voice crack.
“Let’s not wait so long next time,” Holly says with a smile
Her gaze moves down to my bump, which we’d both had to manoeuvre to make sure she avoided squishing during our hug.
“Congratulations, Mrs Stonewell,” Holly grins
“Thanks,” I laugh “Everest reckons it’s going to be a boy.”
I move on to Burton next, who hugs me before I even move to hug him. Burton always was like that.
“Had to meet here, huh?” he jokes
“I’d like to see you think of a better place,” I reply with a raised eyebrow
“Literally anywhere,” is Burton’s reply
Next I hug Macaria, who seems a little surprised that I did so. She stiffens for a moment, but after a moment hugs me back.
“We’re friends, you know,” I chuckle “seriously, you threaten to murder a girl’s would-be husband once...”
“It’s good to see you, Seven,” Macaria says, and her tone is warm, her smile genuine, her eyes bright and happy.
And finally, Alessandro, who hugs me a little more readily than Macaria, probably since he was prepared for it
“I never did apologise about breaking your ankle, did I?” I ask
“No, but it’d be weird if you did now,” Alessandro laughed “besides, I think we’re even.”
That much was true. During the rebellion we had saved one another’s lives more often than I can count. We don’t owe one another anything.
Everest and the others all exchange embraces too, before he looks at the scene around us.
“So, we really did it, huh?” Everest says
“Yeah, we did,” I smile
But my gaze isn’t on the ruined city, it’s on the children playing together a little distance away. A new generation who can grow up without fear. Of course, their parents will always bear the scars, both physical and emotional. But we created a world for them, a safe one that we didn’t get ourselves.
“I’m proud of us.” Everdrya love confession oneshot I’m in my cell in the Capitol, and I’m pretty sure it’s night time, though really it’s impossible to know for sure. The only indicators are that there are fewer guards on shift and Louden is less likely to come and bother us.
I ache all over, the pain from the torture hours before now mostly dulled. Everest and I are talking, as we often do to try and keep ourselves sane in here. I can’t tell whether Holly is awake or not, but at this point it honestly makes little difference. She doesn’t speak, hasn’t in a while, and I know Louden did something to her. Not that we will ever find out what it was.
It does seem like she’s asleep, so I focus my attention on the boy in the cell to my right.
“So things don’t look so good, huh,” I comment lamely
A bitter laugh comes from Everest’s cell, one that hurts me that I have to hear it because it’s the sound of someone who’s going through the same thing I am. Who has given up but is still trying to stay strong.
“I wouldn’t say so,” comes his reply
There’s a moment of silence where neither of us says anything, before Everest’s voice reaches me again.
“Are you scared?” he asks
“Of what?”
There are a lot of things he could mean here. Scared of Louden? Not really. Of the Capitol? A little bit.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Everest says “are you scared of dying?”
I pause for a moment to think about it before I answer. This is something I’ve thought a lot about recently and it’s also a question that begs a good response.
“I’m not really scared of dying itself, I think we’ve both been trying to outrun death for long enough, seen enough death, that it’s kind of lost its fear factor now. It’s more that I’m afraid that I’ll have regrets.”
“Regrets? Like what?”
There is a surprise to Everest’s tone that suggests he hasn’t really thought about it this way yet. Which is understandable, considering that we’ve just been trying to survive rather than contemplating the deeper implications of our deaths. I hadn’t really thought about it until very recently.
“Like that I didn’t go into the woods one more time before my reaping, that I didn’t get to see my family one last time before we came here, that we have to die here stuck in the Capitol, that we never got to be anything more than pawns for Louden. But mostly...”
It seems fitting, since we’re talking about regrets. I am nervous about saying it, I can feel myself flushing and my heart pounding and oh my god what am I doing what good will this possibly do for either of us?
“What?” asks Everest
To hell with it. We’re going to die anyway, I might as well not die with secrets.
“Mostly I regret that I didn’t tell you before, back in the Arena, that I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Then it is his turn, in the dim light, to turn red and look rather surprised and a little nervous.
“In love with me?” he repeats
I only nod, not wanting to say anything in case I stutter or sound stupid or say something dumb I’ll regret. I’ve said more than enough already
“Well, do you know what I regret? That you’re here with me rather than safe out there, that we didn’t know one another before the Games, that fate seems to be against us. Because I’m in love with you too.”
And I’m pretty sure my heart explodes. Figuratively, of course, but it feels very real. I had thought he might try to deny it or that he maybe didn’t even return the feelings. But he does feel the same way, and we don’t have to dance around it anymore. We can be honest with one another and Holly, at least, even if we decide to keep it from Louden. Which would be wise.
“Well I can’t see fate making things any worse for us than it already has, seeing as we’re being tortured in the Capitol and could be killed any day. The way I see it we don’t have anything to lose.” I say, sounding far more sure than I feel.
“You do realise that we’ll have to keep this quiet from Louden and the guards as much as possible?” Everest responds “and with us being stuck in cells all the time not much really changes. And do you really want the memories of our relationship to be of here?”
“I know, but we know we love one another now, and that’s enough for me.”
We have one another now, and while we are the other’s greatest weakness, we are also one another’s greatest strength. It’s a little bit of hope we can cling to, that if we survive we might be able to be together.
I know Holly doesn’t have that, but I’m determined to look after her too in here, as much as I can at least. Not just for her but for Burton too. She needs strength and hope just like Everest and I, and the people she loves aren’t here with her, which is a blessing in some ways but must also be making her feel very lonely.
Still. All I know is, we all have to keep going. I’m not sure why, or what we’re trying to survive for, but something just tells me to keep surviving. I have the primal instinct to keep going, and it’s also telling me to find strength in Holly and Everest and protect them if I can. I know they must have the same feeling, the drive to keep living.
We can’t give up yet. Our part in this revolution has to be more than this, I know it. Hilarious prompt oneshot #1 Four kids stood in a hall, unlikely friends, it seemed, all suffered greatly, but once again they were together. It was joyous, a wonderful occasion, and heartwarming to see. This is a better ending, where everyone lived, where everyone lives, and scars don’t chip, they just paint, and they can be covered with layers of new paint to fix what happened. The first kid, the eldest, perhaps, was a male with brunette hair, lean muscles, and characteristic blue eyes, his arms were crossed, lazily, over his chest. The second was much shorter, younger, and maybe the youngest out of the four. Ebony hair, green eyes, classic way of telling her apart in a crowd. Beside her stood a boy around her age, he was from her District, and despite her ever noticing it, for she was not interested in looks, he too, like all the males, could be considered by most to be handsome. She didn’t care(and neither does the writer but apparently this needed to be addressed). The fourth was a boy, who was shifting from side to side and looked nervous. “I like her guys-“ he began, eyes flickering around, before settling back down. “Obviously,” Holly quipped to Everest, causing him to glare at her, but she only smirked in reply. “What, we’re torture buddies-“ she noted the deflated look Burton took on with a frown, she really didn’t have room to talk about feelings when she just ignored her own, but it was obvious Burton didn’t care for that humor about torture, he wasn’t there, but he blamed himself at times. “No, I need some advice,” He corrected her, glaring slightly at the female. The girl he was talking about was obviously Amadrya. Everyone there knew it, it seemed that literally the only person who didn’t was Amadrya. “Love advice?” Alessandro said, and Everes was already regretting ever bringing it up, “Trust me, I’m the expert!” The boy never lost his cockiness, and the three others shook their heads at his antics. “What?” He then claimed, glaring at Everest, “I’m experienced with everything!” Holly snorted, rolling her eyes, “Says the virgin,” Three eyes snapped to her, and she shrugged, “What, we all are, I’m not judging, but technically he can’t be ex-“ she didn’t get very far at all. “Stop.” Hilarious prompt oneshot #2  When Holly said she didn’t like being a jerk, she didn’t mean it at all. Especially when said people deserved it. So when some guy, one she didn’t know, visited her home in District 8, she wasn’t exactly happy. Especially not when the kid started flirting with her. It brought back trauma of Alessandro and Macaria, dear goodness.“Did you fall from-?” The kid, one who said his name but she forgot in her haste to pack up her belongings, said. She had no idea why he even bothered, she was moving back to the Capitol, despite the real trauma the place brought her, this one brought worse. “Heaven?” She finished for him, glaring his direction, “No, I’ve lived through hell though.” She tersely replies, hoping he would catch and hint and leave. Why was she being bothered anyways, why wasn’t this Amadrya? Amadrya would kick this guys butt. He kept trying faulty, Alessandro-like pick-up lines, and she groaned. Is this what she sounded like to Burton? Some pushy, overflirtatious child. Then again, she didn’t flirt, so no but still. When she had her last bag packed, and said guy was talking through the door, she huffed in exasperation. He hadn’t taken a break, she locked the doors, he was still there. Laughing too, which lead her to think it was a ruse. She opened her door after some silence, and he was still there, much to her chagrin. But she played along, trying her best attempt at a semi-flirty smile, which just looked like a faked smile more than anything. “Are you a trash bag?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow then. The kid grinned, leaning back against one of the beams on her porch, trying to look cool and failing, “Why, cause you wanna take me out?” She smirked then, he was gullible enough to fall for it, but she pushed past him, glaring back, “No,” she commented, “You just have the personality of one.” She almost burst out laughing as Catastrophe let out a meow, tail straight in the air, following Holly. Just like she was agreeing with her. Hilarious prompt oneshot #3 Holly watched this long enough. She hated romcoms, she hated romance. She never had a romantic feeling in her life. She pretended not to. So she didn’t push her thoughts more then that. But she could read others like a book, and the one that had been playing out before her was like 48 chapters too long. And sadly, much to her chagrin, it’s another damn lovestory.He looks at her like she’s his world, like she’s fragile, but oh so brave. She looks at him like he could hold the world and she would follow him anywhere, just to assure his safety. At first, when your stuck in a cell being tortured, said looks are kind of understandable. But they had been free for months, damnit.“He loves her, he loves her not, he loves her, he loves her not...” Was she really plucking at some dome daisy or sunflower and picking petals like some teen. Yes. And it wasn’t even for herself. She picked another petal, the last one, staring at it, the last was ‘he loves her not’, and she huffed, “It doesn’t matter what the f-uck you say, petals, they love each other.” She was talking to a flower. She knew Burton was probably nearby, staring at her like she officially lost her marbles. — She had no idea why it was some grand plan of hers to end this. Be the matchmaker. The Cupid. Then again, the celebratory gala was being held, and Holly was alone right now as Macaria had forced Alessandro into dancing, Amadrya and Everest were off somewhere moping, and Burton was dancing with his little sisters. Ari was nearby, dancing with Halina, though it seemed rather friendly. Other than that, there was literally no one. Well, except her dad, but some bridges don’t get to be rebuilt once they burn. And then she spotted those two, Everest and Amadrya, chattering nearby. And she sauntered over, placing her arm against a nearby wall and turning to Amadrya. “Hey,” she greeted, starling the girl, who eyed her stance in careful manner. “Are you free on Friday?” The looks she got were matching between them both, shocked and absolutely horrified. She would laugh if she wasn’t so fed up with the whole dancing around each other instead of with each other. No response, and she decided she needed a specific, “Like, around 8:00 on Friday?” Amadrya gave her a look that was a cross between utter confusion and betrayal(probably from her friend suddenly acting like a gay disaster), before she finally sobered some, “Uh,” she commented, “Yes?” Holly turned to Everest next, and noticing his confused and slightly jealous glare, she winked, “What about you?” His eyes narrowed, trying to read her and find out what the hell was wrong with her(too much was), and sighed, “Yes. I am.” He said, more assuredly than Amadrya did. “Great!” She commented, pushing herself off the wall, “Because I’m not.” They both backpedaled, watching her with matching confusion looks, mostly about what she was going on about and what she just did. She then smirked as she was about to walk away, and it seemed to click for them, “You two go on without me,” she pushed, and she cackled at the matching red faced they now wore, she then turned away, deadpan glare set dead ahead. “Enjoy your date!” She added in, a command, really. Everest seemed to gain his bearings, watching her, pointing out uselessly, “Did she just-?” “Yes.” Macaria and Holly oneshot It had not been easy, but the rebels had succeeded in getting all three tributes out of the Capitol. Macaria had mainly fought alongside Alessandro, but had also kept an eye on the other tributes. Burton had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on the younger fighters, making sure Halina and Ari were alright. She suspected that was just because he had needed something else to focus on apart from the imprisonment of Holly, which seemed to be hitting him hard.
When they had stormed the building in which the three were being kept, Macaria and Alessandro had run ahead with Burton to try and break them out of the cells. Peacekeepers swarmed them, but they were largely taken by surprise what with the sudden invasion and plus, Macaria hadn’t fought in a long time and she was itching to put the training she’d done with the rebels to good use
She and Alessandro has even bantered as they ran through the halls, taking down the peacekeepers as they went.
“How many?” Macaria had called out to the male
“Seven!” Alessandro had replied, but then there was a pause and a yell “Eight!”
“Ten!” Macaria had responded with a laugh “you snooze, you lose, Rune!”
After some time, though, they were finally there. Three cells, with three familiar forms in them. Macaria wasn’t one to show emotion, but if she had been she would have burst into relieved tears. She hadn’t seen any of them in so long.
It was Burton who had carried the keys, having grabbed them off a now-dead peacekeeper who had been standing guard just outside the room. The District 8 boy had unlocked each cell one by one, ending with Holly’s.
Macaria had pulled the extra weight that she’d been carrying on her back, making her way to Amadrya’s cell and handing her an axe. She had known that it was Amadrya’s weapon of choice and she’d carried it to her from the base.
“You guys look rough,” Macaria has commented with a smirk, but it was clearly a joke. Amadrya had rolled her eyes.
“Good to see you too, Macaria,” Amadrya had responded, but she smiled “thanks.”
The girl had looked very pleased to have an axe in her hand again; a weapon, after all, meant an opportunity to fight back. These three hadn’t had that opportunity in a long time. In fact, Amadrya had never looked so dangerous, a deadly glint in her eye that Macaria had only ever seen in her own.
As Alessandro passed a spare sword he’d been carrying to Everest, Macaria had begun to make her way to Holly’s cell.
“We would have brought you guns but you guys don’t know how to use them properly yet, and besides we’re not planning on running into any more peacekeepers on the way out. Halina and Ari are securing our way out as we speak.”
A strange bro-hug even seemed to have been happening with Everest and Alessandro, a sight Macaria had never thought she would see. And when she stopped in front of Holly’s cell, Burton had been hugging her and it seemed like he had been for several moments already. The atmosphere of relief was incredibly strong.
“Alright, alright,” Macaria had said “District 8 is reunited, it’s very cute, but we have to keep moving.”
As she spoke, she had pulled out a couple of her own throwing knives and handed them to Holly.
“You break those, I break your arm, I don’t care if you’ve been tortured,” Macaria had cautioned, but she was still smiling
And with that, the group had set off, the district 2 girl noting that both Everest and Holly had the same deadly glint she’d seen Amadrya have. It was determination, revenge maybe. They were weak and in pain but they were angry.
—-
And now Macaria sat in the rebel hovercraft, wearing the black uniform the stylists had designed specifically for her. It fit her perfectly and was light, allowing speedy attacks, and it had a place for her to store her throwing knives. It was perfect. Her dark hair was in a perfect bun to keep it out of her face.
Amadrya and Everest sat together chatting some distance away, and Burton was in some other part of the hovercraft, having left for a few moments to talk to Alistair and Diana about something. Ari and Halina had both fallen asleep, exhausted. It was just Macaria and Holly.
“Why did you help the rebels come get us?” Holly asked “I thought you hated me.”
“I never hated you, Holly,” Macaria said what a shake of her head “Why did you think I targeted you in the Arena? Not because I hated you, but because I saw you as a threat. I admired your qualities, you were a real competitor, and we have a little in common too. If we weren’t in the Games we would have actually probably gotten on quite well. So no, I don’t hate you, I was just doing what I needed to win the Games. I actually think you’re cool.”
“Oh, well, thanks, I guess,” Holly said, sounding too surprised to make a snarky comment “I guess I think you’re cool too.”
“I mean, we’re all some crazy big family now, right?” Macaria asked “you, me, Alessandro, Burton, Halina, Ari and the two lovebirds over there. The way I see it, nobody else has gone through what all of us have gone through together. We need to look out for one another, because we’re all we’ve got. Neither of us have a real biological family, and I don’t know about you but now I’ve got a chance to have a different kind of family I’m not going to let it pass me by. So instead of being enemies let’s see one another as.. sisters.”
The shock on Holly’s face didn’t really seem to be going away, but after a few moments she’d gathered her thoughts.
“What about cousins? Like twice removed?” Holly asked, but she added “Sure, sisters.”
Their conversation died down, but after a couple of moments Holly piped up again.
“Still hate you,” she quipped
“Loser,” Macaria shot back with a smile
“Idiot,” Holly said with a grin, elbowing her
Sure, they didn’t really like one another, but there was a bond between the group that couldn’t be broken. And they had no reason to hate one another any more. They could be friends now, and Macaria felt sure they would. Because she understood Holly like only the other tributes did, and they’d all been through so much that they all felt the need to protect one another. Even she, who wanted to kill these kids not too long ago, now she knew if she needed to she could be counted on to protect them if they were in danger. They took care of one another.
And honestly, why wouldn’t she want to have brothers and sisters? You are the literal best ❤️❤️❤️ I will read all of these when I have a free moment!! And Sparky, I didn’t read whatever it isn’t you’re talking about burn I would love to! ) |
|
But don't worry if you are tired and can't get on, we'll still be around when you're free again]
