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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on May 27, 2019 17:56:08 GMT -5
 - - - - - Holly Alandria
Her face was twisted, a smile present. “Yeah, we’ll find you a new nickname, Anton.” She said, returning his last name to him.
She nudged him right back, elbowing him lightly, “Yes, yes, I get it now. You knew all along, huh?” She questioned with a grin on her face. “I’m proud of you, good job, Anton.” She replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes in good humor.
“Don’t get any idea, you’re not right all the time.” She corrected, lightheartedly, “I happen to think there is more than one flirty one.” She commented.
His question was one she kept asking herself, “I don’t know. She told us to watch our backs, but she might leave us alone. She saw me with the katana, which in reflection now maybe I should have went for a knife instead. The smaller weapons are the more dangerous in the arena.” Was that an analogy for something else?
Probably, meaning that she was looking around again, she liked to believe she would be dangerous because of guardian nature. Hopefully.
Maybe.
”Anyways She’s a Careers they tend to go for the weakest first. I want to get a good score so we would most likely be left alone, but that might grab extra attention too. I still have no idea what to even do in the Private Session, it’s not like stealing is a talent you can do in there. I know knives and katanas, but no more than a mediocre Career would When first picking it up. Climbing is overly easy, not a talent really. All I can come up with is agility,” She shrugged. “What about you, what’s your plan for the session. Wanna score high, low? Medium?” She questioned, smirking in his direction with a lazy wink of her eye, another tease and jest from the cute boy comment.
“I happen to think her taste is lacking, basing her attraction on looks, I bet it’s all an act, but still. When she insinuated we were a couple, I told her I have standards.” She said with a light laugh, of course she would respond in such a way. Most girls she knew would blush or argue or deny, she simply joked about it. That was how she was though.
She had only a few weeks to live most likely, she might as well have made the best of it.
She nodded to him then, comforted slightly. “Even in self defense, I’ll try to just get them to go. I really don’t want to play by the capitals rules, I don’t want to kill or die, because I know there has to be another option. Maybe not for us, but one day at least. But if I have to, I will. Especially if they try killing you, I can’t have my friend dead, now can I?” She asked, tipping her head as she started on a new practice with the shelters.
”So Livia, our stylist, what kind of outfits do you think she’ll put us in for the interviews?” She questioned, curious. She had a feeling that Burton knew the stylist better than she did. She didn’t exactly like Livia the most, a bit jealous of the fact that the 18 year old got to escape the reaping. Not that it would have mattered anyways, Holly was there regardless, another name most likely wouldn’t have changed that fact.
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on May 28, 2019 1:40:58 GMT -5
Come up to meet you Tell you I'm sorry You don't know how lovely you are
A young girl stood in the thunder, eyes wide, circular, as she watched the event transpire. The square was full, and guilt circled her head for a new reason. She had on a black dress, black leggings, and gloves of noir color as well. Her hair, long and black, trailed behind her as she ran faster. She was screaming, crying, and begging.
It was just days after the 85th games had ended, and the 12 year old child stood, eyes wide and startled, like an innocent dear. This day would change her perspective life.
The women at the square has being forced onto the stage, blood dripping from her cheeks and arms. Whiplashing, most likely. But she didn’t argue back. She didn’t plead her innocence. She refused to even talk.
She did nothing wrong, another friend of hers attacked the peacekeeper, and both girls were taken into custody, lashed for their crimes. Even though the women was innocent, she was willing to die. The friend lost a son in those games.
The little girl screamed out again, “Please!” She begged, “You didn’t do anything wrong, tell them!” She forced herself to scream. She was drawing attention. She didn’t care. The women needed to plead her innocence.
Sure, the women would coup herself away, and was always silent. But she loved her child, and while she had the child as an accident, she kept her safe. Even so, she didn’t do anything wrong this time. She never hit the child, she never hurt the peacekeeper. Her friend, in grief, did.
But she was silent, deadly silent. Her eyes felt on the small child as she was forced into the noose on the stage. Her eyes never left.
The child hated that hopeless look more than she could even begin to describe. She may not have understood her mother, but she didn’t want her to die. Her mother was the only reason her father was sane. Her mother, no matter how lacking, still was a silent presence, and she was innocent. She didn’t deserve to die.
The mother shook her head, her brunette hair falling over her face in a shadow, and her amber eyes full of hopelessness as her friend was shoved into the nose beside her.
The peacekeeper was talking again, but the child screamed again. “Shut up! She didn’t even touch you!”
“-For their acts of rebellion, these women, Sandra Tyvern and Ivory Alandria are sentenced to death, may their actions make an example-” The man overrode, and the girl screamed again.
A man behind her clamped her mouth shut, and placed his hands over her eyes as the lever was pulled and the stage fell beneath her mother’s feet. He refused to let her see, as the people in the crowd went silent. He refused to speak.
Holly still remembered the feeling of his tears as he remained in place, then led her away. He loved her, even if her mother was gone.
At least, she thought he did.
I had to find you Tell you I need you Tell you I set you apart
It was a week later, she still didn’t move much. Her father never spoke.
It was silent, and all the love was gone. Her mother, though quiet, was always the cheerful and happy soul. Her father had lost too much, grew up to a hard life. She didn’t know everything about it, but his love was always brighter when mother was around.
It was too silent. Even for her being gone.
Holly forced herself up, she would often sleep soundly, but recently. Since...
Since her mother died, it was too quiet, too lonely. But at least she heard her father’s tears, or she saw his shadow as he stared out the window at the night.
Even with the the little sleep she got, but she still didn’t see him.
She stood up, running around. She hated the Capital, she hated everyone who just stood there, knowing both women were innocent, or at least her mother was. Letting them die over some piece of anger and grief.
What if they got her dad too?
She ran to his lonely room, but he wasn’t there, she ran to the porch.
No sign of him.
She ran back, and forth, eyes wide as she frantically searched. Because he wouldn’t leave.
He loved her.
She stopped when she saw someone. She was surprised though, she didn’t recognize the child before her, with long ebony hair, and baggy green eyes. That child was happy once.
This new one looked wrong, she didn’t fit in her skin.
It was off. And wrong,
She shook her head, her tangled hair matted from the lack of care, her clothes dirty from similar reasons. She was skinnier than ever before, refusing to eat, not that she was offered, and extremely dehydrated.
She ran down the hall, to his study. When all else failed, he would go there in this past week. To admire a picture of Ivory from their wedding day.
She went silent and still, a note was on the desk, written in his handwriting, in a cursive ink of black.
She picked up the paper, silent, as dawning hit her.
She screamed, clutching the paper as she dissolved into sobs.
He wasn’t coming home, because he couldn’t give up and die, but he couldn’t live on with the child of his lover.
She was alone. But she needed him, she needed someone.
She couldn’t go on alone.
Tell me your secrets And ask me your questions Oh let's go back to the start
Holly stood, her green eyes lighting up with humor. She knew she shouldn’t get so close to her District partner. But he was already filling the gaping hole that years of loneliness had left.
They were talking again, about their lives. He told her about his sisters.
Maybe they weren’t secrets, but his trust in her meant the world.
His questions were different.
“So what did you leave behind?” He had asked, curious.
Her laugh was empty and void. Her coping mechanism. What a joke. What did she leave behind?
“Everything and nothing,” she responded, her voice dry as she stared off into space. Maybe he couldn’t see it. But she rather not care anymore.
It didnt matter anyways. She was going to die. She knew it. He certainly had to know it.
“How can you leave behind everything and nothing?” He seemed amused, but concerned too.
Did she need to awnser?
Holly glared back at him, “If it helps your curiousity, Burton,” she huffed, “I left behind Catastrophe.” She explained, her cat was named for a pun, but was her only companion.
A cat she found when she lost everything else. The cat that lost everything too.
His look forced her to accept defeat. She couldn’t lie to him, unless she had to. Life was now too short to lie anymore to someone that cared.
If she was dead anyways, why not just say it. Why not just explain it?
She didn’t want him to forget her, but she didn’t want his pity.
A long pause elapsed as they both watched each other.
But she did want closure...
“But I left behind my memories too.” She started.
Running in circles, coming up tails Heads on a science apart
A long year had passed since her father left. No matter how many times she looked for him, asked around, begged for information. No one knew where he went. Either that, or they refused to tell her.
And so now, it was just her.
He was forgotten, just like her mother was. Life continued on as normal for everyone else.
For her, a strange cycle appeared. Life had no humor anymore, everything was a cloak of darkness. She felt no pity at the reaping for the children sent to die.
She wondered why she was still alive instead of pondering how they would die, who would kill them, and who would win.
Another year passed of her repeating the cycle, her life became plain.
She wondered if it was easier to die than live. Her mother seemed to think so, why shouldn’t she?
At 14 years of age, her hair had changed to a shortened bob cut, and her body barely grew. Malnutrition and lack of self care made her skin and bones, skinny and weak. Plus her own input to change from the past. Thus some of the sloppy strands of hair that would eventually even out.
She was pitied by others. But she lied to keep that a secret too. She didn’t need someone’s tears, those didn’t do anything for her.
She had a job now, working for one of the fabric companies, a private seamstress. She refused to work on peacekeeper outfits, but a seamstress was in need of help with her own business, making clothes for the inhabitants of District 8. So Holly decided that was better than looking for clues that didn’t exist.
It was another rainy day, she had no idea if she liked the sullen storms, or hated them for the way she remembered them best.
She was void of caring much though.
She was drenched, cold, and tired as she headed home, but stopped as a pained mewling caught her attention. Some was screaming for help.
Screaming for help, screaming, screaming, screaming...
Holly ran towards it, her apathy gone the moment she heard it. She tripped a few times in puddles, but she turned the corner, near a lake bordering her part of the district.
The cat was a kitten, a calico with big green eyes, and mostly black fur. Blood matted on it’s side, a gash on it.
No mother, or father in sight.
Just a hurt cat in need.
Tears welled in her eyes, scooping the cat up. It was skinny, tiny. In need of food, a bath, and healing. More so, it needed love.
She didn’t really think as she headed home, looking at the soft kitten, with matted fur, whose cries had cut to a dull purr.
She felt the need to say something.
“Yeah,” She said through tears, “I know, our lives are just catastrophes huh?”
Nobody said it was easy It's such a shame for us to part
Holly coughed, she was 16, and now the pain had started to fade. At least, the emotional pain did. Physical pain still existed, much to her chagrin.
Her cat, Catastrophe, was a handful, just as Holly herself was.
Maybe that’s why the apathetic girl could never leave the cat to die. Maybe the memory faded with the cat around.
Holly named the cat for the pun she said, her humor was back, darker. But she coped. She was able to survive the pain. At least, now something tethered her to reality.
So she coughed the fur of the cat. Because apparently Catastrophe found it hilarious to stick her tail in Holly’s mouth when Holly tried scolding her for peeing on things.
“Thanks, Catastrophe. I really appreciate the fur in my mouth,” she huffed out, turning to give a glare to the cat.
The cat meowed back, face full of mischief, and tail in the air in pride.
Holly stroked the fluffy cat, stopping as her hand landed on the scar. The scar she had to sew and stitch together herself, because she didn’t have the money for a vet. And no vets tended to be accepting to strays locally anyways. Holly smiled fondly at the memory though.
Catastrophe had barely survived, but now she was thriving. And Holly pet the cat again as she was yelled at by her. A small laugh escaped her lips.
She pressed a small kiss to the top of the cat’s head. Whispering a goodbye as she went to her 3rd to last reaping.
She was promptly screamed at by her cat as she shut the door.
She happened to agree, she didn’t like the games either.
Her name wasn’t picked. But she stared at the hopeless gazes as the tributes left the stage. A pain and guilt filled her chest, for the first time in months.
Why did it hurt so bad again?
Nobody said it was easy No one ever said it would be this hard Oh take me back to the start
Her hands shook vividly. Her eyes wide and filled with fury. Her chest was tight, taunt with the anger building within her. The pain of the past and her anger building her rage.
“What?” She questioned, eyes narrowed as anger overwhelmed her.
“I have no place for orphans at my station,” the women repeated, glaring down at the short girl. The games had just ended, the victors tour was coming up soon. “Not when I have plenty of candidates for the job that won’t be dependent on me.”
“I am not dependent on you!” Holly writhed, clenching her fist. “I have never asked you for a thing other than what I deserved!”
“Regardless! A child your age should go work at the factories, not for a seamstress! You have the skills, now I need to prepare younger children.” The women justified weakly, backing up.
Holly blinked, once, twice. Her left eye twitched, “A child my age is sent to die every year too, are you going to prepare them for that too?” She asked, voice cold, soft, silent. Anger flickered in her green eyes.
“I don’t have to justify myself to you. Take your money, and go.” The women said, pushing the bag of coins forward.
Holly looked at her, eyes narrowed, “No. Why does you learning I’m an orphan effect my worth?” She asked, voice oddly calm now, pushing the bag back.
She was ignored.
“Goodbye.” The women said, retreating back with the bag and slamming the door in Holly’s face.
She refused to work for murderers, and apparently her status as an orphan effected the ability too. No one wanted to be liable for her. Not if they knew the truth.
Her eyes fell back to the building, as a dark look lit her gaze. She thought about the storage room, where the women stored things she found, or didn’t care enough to watch herself. She thought of the one thing that fascinated her from the place.
Those weapons would never be missed anyways. Plus, she always liked them, and they were never the women’s to begin with.
They technician belonged no one.
If finders keepers was going to apply for the women, Holly would use it too.
Those daggers and katanas were the first thing she stole.
They surely weren’t the last.
I was just guessing at numbers and figures Pulling the puzzles apart
She stood, frozen, as she looked at Burton. She hadn’t seen him until they rose above ground, and she got a good look at the arena.
She expected forest, she expected dessert, or arctic.
She never expected the looming skyscrapers. The debris or the dust floating by.
She glanced at her partner, trying to gauge his reaction. Her own eyes were as wide as saucers, confused and frightened.
This place reminded her of something, something terrible.
It reminded her of the loneliness she felt. Being in the arena brought back her fear.
She really didnt want to be forgotten. But what if Macaria was right, the career said that if she didn’t act, she would be. Then again, what did careers even know?
Her eyes moved forward. The faces of the other tributes marred in her mind. Their names, their voices.
Her eyes narrowed, face falling into focus as determination kicked in.
She didn’t understand how she of everyone in District 8 was picked. She didn’t understand why her life was so miserable.
She didn’t understand what she did to gain such an amazing friend either.
But the puzzle of destiny kept her going, and the fear of being forgotten pushed her forward.
Her feet left the podium, as her desire to solve the puzzle clicked into place as the timer went off.
What else did life have in store for her?
Questions of science, science and progress Do not speak as loud as my heart
Everything moved slowly, or seemed to.
Those thoughts came back.
Why try? What’s the point of winning if you had live with this? To murder other children? To take away their chance at life?
Even as she watched the faces blur in the sky, she asked herself. Why them? Why not her? Why did kids with families have to die? Why did she, a lonely, pathetic creature live?
The guilt was powerful, and it froze her.
She knew the reason was the Capital, why they all died.
It was so amusing, wasn’t it?
But it was calm now.
She asked herself again why she had tried. What was the point anymore?
She glanced at Burton, beside her.
She doubted that the reason needed explaining. She had something to protect now.
She had to keep him alive. For his sisters, for his family.
For her cat, for her district.
For the future.
Blinking, her green eyes continued to train on him, she smiled softly too.
She had to get him home, because she knew she wasn’t going home if she couldn’t go without him too.
And the games could only have one victor.
Tell me you love me Come back and haunt me Oh and I rush to the start
Her hands shook, she was sitting. She was crying too. Flowers quivered in her hands, as she openly sobbed.
She was dressed in all black, the funeral had been days before. But she sound the color better than bright ones. It was like the black ink on the letter.
She had nothing left at all.
Some people showed up to the funeral, but not her father, and now the flowers were wilting. So she brought new ones, just so she could keep something alive for her mother. Just so someone would remember Ivory.
She placed them down, gingerly. Roses, and a little piece of holly plant, with a little lily in the mix.
She placed it on the little marble headstone, smiling softly, brokenly.
“I miss you mom.” She whispered. “I love you.”
She wished she would have said it before it was too late. Just one last time.
A canon was heard.
The memory was clear, as she stood in the arena, her green eyes focused on her district partner.
The guilt built again. A body lay before him, mangled, bloody. Very, very cold. The anguish in the air was heavy.
The body was fresh, bloodied. The fire gone from the eyes of the female tribute.
Holly knew it would happen, but her heart broke for her friend too.
“I miss you,” She whispered, looking at him.
He didn’t hear her, and she knew it.
“I love you, my friend. I wish you luck.” She didn’t want to say bye, even if he didn’t hear it, even if he couldn’t.
Her eyes watched the body. The ebony hair was frizzy, green eyes dull of color, but a fierceness, and protectiveness held to her face even in death.
She walked away, leaving her dead body alone with her friend. There was no point in mourning what she knew was going to be lost.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer.” She said, glancing back, looking at a little chain dangled in her dead fingers. The amulet was opened on the end, it was her token into the arena.
Looking at the pictures, she smiled. Her mother never fought back because she knew it wouldn’t make a different.
Her father left because he didn’t want her to live with his pain, or at least that must have been his intention.
Her cat like her, last her family, but found solace in a friend.
Then it clicked in her mind, smiling softly at Burton, as she turned to walk away.
She finally understood.
Running in circles, chasing our tails Coming back as we are
Holly felt cold. Very cold. Shock swept through her.
The female tribute of District 8 for the 90th hunger games.
She felt colder at the interview.
They asked her useless questions, in her taste at least. But one stuck with her even into the arena.
“Holly Alandria, you are quite the candidate, huh?” The announcer began, earning a laugh from the audience. Holly rose a eyebrow at him in her stead. She tried to hide her annoyance, she really did.
“Such a mystery too, mind telling us who you are?” He asked, turning to give her the full attention of the crowd and himself.
Holly smiled softly, for the cameras. “I’m a girl,” she simply said, “I’m a kid,” she added, staring at the man dressed in fanatic clothing, interviewing her.
“But above all else, I’m a person.” She finished, “I, like all of you, have hopes, dreams, and goals.” She added, smiling softly again.
It’s too bad I’m going to die because of you. The words were in her head, but never spoken.
“I don’t plan on playing the games like the others,” She warned, acting like a career in a way, “My goals happen to be different then theirs. I don’t want to just live,” she said, turning to the audience.
“I plan to be heard.” She added on, keeping it short and sweet.
She repeated that to Burton, multiple times. Before and after she said it that night. She said it to other tributes too, in battle, or in training.
But she said it mostly to Burton.
But when she was in the arena, she made sure he was asleep when she said it.
Her other goal, rather than be heard, was have her message survive. She knew it could through Burton.
Maybe that’s why she was so willing to die in the first place.
Everything returned to that goal for her. One she had since a child.
She had enough of losing, of crying, of laughing it off.
The Capital would pay for what they did to children, to people.
For her and her family, she could at least try.
Nobody said it was easy Oh it's such a shame for us to part
She stared at the sky. Everything hurt, and panic had set in, but it felt calm too.
It felt like the end.
...
Was it?
She knew it was her blood, she knew very well it was hers. She felt the pain, the searing pain.
She knew she was dying.
She wasn’t going to be okay, she wasn’t going to be alright.
And somehow, it felt fitting. Listening to the pounding of her heartbeat, as her body struggled to support itself. To survive when it would fail.
She forced herself to roll over, forcing breath into her lungs. She hoped Burton wouldn’t find her, she didn’t care the cause of her death to be ear either.
She wanted to see the look on their faces. She knew she wouldn’t be able to. But she knew there had to be a camera in the general direction she was looking. She wasn’t about to die like one of their cattle.
It was so funny, to look at it. Maybe that’s why it was fun. Because they had control of who lived and who died, and they thought everyone was going to be scared of them.
She laughed sourly, spitting out blood that filled her mouth, her teeth stained by the color, as her eyes raised to stare out. “Is-“ she stopped, it hurt to speak, her face twisted in pain,
“Is this amusing to you?” She asked, again. Feeling her breath shallow out, as the thrumming softened. Her smirk was rebellious too, she wasn’t going to die scared of them. She was done being scared.
She laid there a few moments, letting her question sink in, she didn’t care if it was on camera or not. Most likely, it was, she was dying, after all. Screw her words, she was still dying and that’s what mattered to the Capital.
“You know, I can’t wait until the districts get sick of your crap,” she breathed out. She hoped that got through, probably did if her inkling was correct. It would look dumb to mute out a death of the games because the tribute badmouthed them. But they were dull anyways, she obviously had no idea.
She was speaking fast, soft, weak, but bold. She curled up as the pain became worse. She had to get through though.
“For them to decide-“ she gasped again, she needed to speak faster.
“That children don’t need to-“ her sentence was more broken. She clutched her hand uselessly. Something was in it, mostly broken, causing blood the gush faster from her palm.
“Die.” She whispered, feeling her strength leave, and resting again. She said it, she accomplished one goal. She just hoped Burton could pull his weight and make it out alive.
It was a few moments before the thrumming went out all together, and her hollow eyes stared, as her hand loosened.
The broken necklace rolled from her grip, the chain locked in her fingers. The little amulet opened as it collided with the ground, two pictures revealed inside.
One of a family, and one of a girl and cat.
It was cold.
Nobody said it was easy No one ever said it would be so hard
Holly smiled as she ran alongside her mother and father, hand in hand. The little child giggled happily, at a sweet age of 10. They were inside, as the TV played behind them. But they were enjoying life as it came for the time being.
Her hair was long, and her eyes a bright green. Her father had similar hair, and blue eyes. Her mother brunette with amber eyes. A cute little family they made.
She hugged a stuffed animal to her chest, innocent eyes wide. Laughing as her parents sat next to her, she loved her family. Life was amazing for her, and she felt content.
But they all froze a sound of canon fire came from the TV.
Her gentle eyes turned to see the dead boy on the TV, and the announcer recapping the events.
The Hunger Games.
She turned back, her parents looked sad now. She didn’t like that.
But she was confused.
“Momma?” She questioned, glancing at her mother, “And Dadda.” She added on with a cute little smile. Even at 10 she used the names, they showed affection.
“What, sweetie?” they both asked, cooing at her in fondness.
“Why do children have ta die?” She asked, tipping her head. It was a question that bugged her as she approached her first reaping.
“I don’t know honey.” Her father said softly, wrapping her in a hug.
Her mother was silent. She sometimes was like that.
In a flash her mother was the one hugging her, and she heard a soft sob.
Holly frowned again, glancing up. Her mother was hugging her tight, crying, but also moving a hand to her own neck. Transferring it next to Holly’s.
She felt something slip around her neck, a necklace, her mother’s to be exact.
“Because cruel people find the deaths of children amusing, and to keep another rebellion from happening by forcing the Districts to watch children die.” She said, voice stern, the softness gone. The hard truth bare. Her hand cupped Holly’s face up, forcing Holly to look her in the eyes.
Holly was silent for a long time after that. The TV long forgotten as they stood in silent.
“Mother?” She finally questioned,
“Yes?” Her mother responded, stroking her hair.
“Children don’t need to die.”
Her voice faded off as death consumed her, the memory shifted to real life.
The canon was distant to her this time too.
I'm going back to the start
Her green eyes flickered as she walked the halls of the building, green eyes narrowed.
Her gaze softened, as she walked into the room, the victor of the newest games walking out of the room. A girl with dark hair, and a missing eye. One who re-used a phrase Burton once used as Catallus. It was a phrase Holly didn’t exactly agree with.
All we do is kill and die.
Holly knew that, at least, that didn’t have to be the case.
Yet as the cameras moved, she stood her ground, no one could see her anyways. But it felt right, somehow, to try and block out the hate of the Capital. To try and block what Burton became as Catallus.
She didn’t know why he chose to follow along, but she understood too. You make bad decisions when you lose a lot. She hated the Capital more for killing his family, for ruining hers.
She hated a part of him for playing their game. But she couldn’t hate him for long. She did love him, he was her best friend after all.
She watched him, she would support him still. She knew he was a good person. She knew that life just played you in a puzzle. But then...
He exploded, defending his true stances once more.
Her eyes widened at his outburst, but some pride filtered through. Though she feared for what they would do to him, she was glad he stood his ground. She was glad that Burton was still there.
She followed him, crying out for him when they made him drink the poison. She hated that, why did they have to torture him? She knew why, they didn’t want him to go without punishment, what an example that would set. But they didn’t want him to die and be a martyr. So now he was sickly, and yet..
She was still smiling at his acts of rebellion.
Regardless of what happened to her. She was sure of one thing in her heart.
The years of pain, the years of tears, everything was worth it.
And she didn’t regret a thing.
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- - - - - Carlo Valentine
- - - - - Alessandro Rune
someone who favors one tribute over the other, and kind of picks favorites or something.)
) 
