canyon wind

by carmilla_dupe

Summary:

the only thing she can think of as the games start is the canyon wind

Chapter 1: character introduction

" If you want to save your soul from Hell, a-ridin' on our range/Then cowboy, change your ways today, or with us you will ride/Tryin' to catch the Devil's herd, across these endless skies"

"If I could start again/A million miles away/I would keep myself/I would find a way"

 

 

  In all the districts of Panem, orphanhood has always been a problem.  There's all kinds of causes- disease, suicide, accidents, murder, executions- but the effect is all the same no matter the case.  It's more mouths to feed, more kids for others in the districts to take care of.  Each district has their own way of dealing with orphans, but district 10 has a particularly unique way.  

  The western portion of district 10 is where the livestock is generally raised, and the eastern portion is usually where they're brought to be slaughtered and prepared to be sent out.  In the west, orphans who have no other family and absolutely no one else to go to are brought to the Hunters.  

  Raising livestock- especially in areas so close to or in the desert- means having to deal with predators.  Bobcats, mountain lions, coyotes.  Not to mention other, smaller threats one wouldn't normally think about- rattlesnakes, scorpions, vultures.  Just to name a few.  And with the amount of livestock district 10 raises, it all needs to be protected.  

  Hence the Hunters.  They've been around for as long as anyone can remember, and generally are known to some degree around the rest of Panem.  The only citizens allowed to carry weapons- except guns- on their person, they're easily recognizable to the public.  But that doesn't mean they aren't closely watched.  Even if the only weapons they carry around are bow and arrows, or knives, and they mostly stay on whatever ranch they've been assigned to work at, peacekeepers keep special attention on them.  

  Orphans in the west are trained by the Hunters up until they're deemed ready.  At that point, they're sent to work on one of the many farms or ranches that span across the district.  Early into their training they're given their own horse, then taught how to ride it to an expert level.  They're taught to fight, hunt, and lasso anything that might come their way or threaten the livestock.  When they kill their first predator- usually one of a couple predictable species- they're branded with a special design.  The initial 'H', and somewhere on it, the animal they killed.  It's an initiation, and once they get it, they're designated hunters.  Farms everywhere across the district hire them to defend their animals, and sometimes they're even sent farther away from the towns to hunt down a predator that's been a particular bother.  Generally respected and somewhat feared by other citizens for their skills, they don't ever have to worry about much.  Except for the Reaping.

  Sylvia was no older than 2 when she was orphaned.  Her parents- two people she doesn't remember nor particularly care for- were nasty people.  Always yelling, cursing, fighting, hitting... and sometimes they didn't know when to keep their mouths shut.  A particular nasty night during the war, and things got out of hand.  They were brought to the gallows and hung quickly.  That was before the war even started.  

  She had been brought to the Hunters quickly, trained even quicker.  She had a fiery spirit even before being orphaned, and proved to be exceptionally handy with not just a knife, but also a bow.  Horse riding came just as naturally, as did lassoing.  Her horse- a mostly dark brown female appaloosa speckled with light brown and white spots- was named Cash, one of the fastest in the stables.  The war put a halt in her training, though it picked up quickly right after. 

  By the time she's 12, she's already passed every test given by the trainers- people she's come to view as uncles or aunts.  The week before she was set to work on her first ranch, she had gone into the stables to check on Cash, and the first thing she heard upon entering was the tell-tale sound of a rattlesnake.  She found it in Cash's stable, about to bite her dear horse, and had killed the thing quick with a rock, smashing its head in and not giving it a chance to strike.  

  The brand is given to her a few days later- with her excitable consent.  The letter 'H' with the design of a rattlesnake wrapping around the letter.  After that, work comes easy.  Ranches and farms hire her, compliments of her efficient work traveling through word of mouth.  People specifically request her through the Hunter's program, and before long she's become somewhat of an infamous name around the western part of the district, at least to the livestock farmers.  

  But being a hunter also comes with some downsides.  Besides the rattlesnake, the first predator she ever takes down is a mountain lion preying on a farmer's cows.  She shoots the thing from horseback, but underestimates its ability to play dead.  When she goes to retrieve the arrow, the damn thing slashes its claws across her stomach- from below her left rib, all the way to her right hip- thankfully not deep enough to threaten her life.  After that, she gets used to the injuries.  A scar from a coyote, puncture wounds from a rattlesnake, a slash from a bob cat.  There's only about four generally noticeable scars, but even more noticeable than that are her tattoos.  

  Every new animal she kills, she gets a tattoo for.  First it was the snake on her right forearm, then a coyote above her right hip.  There's a bob cat on the back of her left arm, and on the back of her right arm is a mountain lion.  The brand from the Hunters is on the back of her right shoulder, and there's a tattoo of a full moon on the front of her right bicep.  The tattoos used to be a tradition amongst Hunters, but it's outdated now, with most of the newcomers having little to none on their body.  But Sylvia likes them.  To her, it feels like she's honoring them.  She doesn't specifically enjoy the killing- the feeling of life slipping out of a creature that she brought down all herself- but she likes defending the livestock.  

  Another tradition is trophies.  Generally it consists of skinning whatever animal was killed and turning it into something for the home- a wall hanging or rug made of bobcat or coyote fur, a snakeskin made into a kitchen decoration.  But Sylvia turns her kills into something wearable.  Mountain lion fur is turned into a shawl, rattlesnake skin is put onto her boots and the fangs are made into earrings, while the tail of the snake is made into a bracelet.  Coyote, bobcat, and mountain lion fangs are made into necklaces that hang around her neck.  The whole body of a scorpion is made into a bracelet that wraps around her wrist.  Vulture and owl feathers she finds are tucked into the band of her hat safely so they don't slip, while other feathers are braided into her hair.  

  She becomes quite the sight by the time the 10th annual hunger games come around.  Walking around, covered in teeth and tattoos and scars that she keeps hidden beneath her mountain lion shawl.  Her hunting knife always tucked safely into its sheath at her hip, her bracelets rattling as she walks.  People know her, people respect her.  A girl of 18 years who already has a reputation for being one of the most formidable hunters the district has ever seen.  

  That is, until, Reaping Day comes around.         

Chapter 2: the reaping ceremony

The citizens of Panem are generally expected to dress nicely for the Reaping Ceremony.  Of course, those between the ages of 12-18 also have to keep in mind that whatever they wear may be what they die in if they're chosen to be in the Hunger Games.  So whatever they were has to be somewhat practical, but nice enough to dissuade any looks they may receive.  For Sylvia, that means wearing her usual outfit, but swapping her jeans for a multi-fabric skirt with thin shorts underneath.  Her leather top, fitted to her torso similarly to a corset, is kept on.  It hides beneath her shawl- not too thick, but not particularly thin- as it always does.  The shawl is crossed over her body and cinched at the waits with a leather strap.  

  Reaping Day has always scared her.  She remembers watching people she had seen in town get picked to fight to the death, and none of them had ever come back.  This year should have been less anxiety-inducing for her.  She was 18 now.  Next year she wouldn't be eligible at all and she wouldn't have to worry about being thrown into an arena ever again.  But it isn't.  The dread sits in her stomach, weighing down her every step like it always does.  

  The plaza is crowded with people.  As it is every Reaping Day.  Her trainer from the Hunters- Magnus- follows her through the crowd up until they have to part ways.  He smiles at her, wishing her good luck before he goes to stand in the audience.  Sylvia follows his path with her eyes and sees him towards the front, near the stage, standing with the other hunters who are older than 18.  Which is, to say, most of them. 

  Sylvia takes a spot in the third row back from the stage at the end, right next to the aisle.  From here, she can see Magnus and the others.  When she turns her head to the boys across the aisle, she sees a few of the boys from the Hunters, the ones between 12 and 18.  There had been an attempt, once, to exclude any Hunters from the drawing due to their importance in the protection of the livestock.  It hadn't worked.  So now, here Sylvia was, watching the anxiety rise in the boys and forcing herself to turn back towards the stage as the Mayor walks up to the microphone.  

  Mentally, she clocks out as he adheres to his little welcoming speech.  She's never understood why the Capitol makes them do it.  All it does is leave room for people's anxiety to rise, raising tensions and terrifying the ones eligible to be reaped.  Then again, maybe that's the point of it.  

  She only clocks back in when he reaches into the bowl and draws out the slip for the boy tribute.  He visibly gulps, a drop of sweat streaking down his face.  Sylvia's confused by his clear nervousness, wracking her brain for an answer before she remembers his son.  As far as she's aware, he's just turned 12 a few weeks earlier.  Suddenly she understands why he's so nervous. 

  But the name he speaks into the microphone isn't that of his child.  

  "Tanner Mullen." 

  Like many of the other citizens in the plaza, they turn to the boys section, looking for a glimpse of movement to get a first look at the unlucky boy.  She spots him easily enough, as he's almost directly across the aisle from her.  He's blonde, and by the way he's built and dressed she assumes he works in or near one of the slaughterhouses.  It's a common enough job in the district.  

  As he walks out of the section and down the aisle, his face doesn't show any outward emotion other than the slight watering of his eyes.  But that's to be expected.  She's seen lots of reactions to names called over the years- screaming, crying, sobbing, cursing, running... but the most common one has to be the one she's seeing now.  The need to not show emotion, to keep the tears from spilling.  

  His footsteps echo harshly in the plaza, sounding off through the air and dry heat.  It sounds like the drums leading up to an execution.  But that's what it really is, isn't it?  She can't help the morbid thought from going through her head, and forces herself to pay attention as as the mayor reaches into the other bowl. 

  All her attention is focused on the mayor, on his face.  She watches him lick hip lips, fingers shaking from left over nervousness as he struggles to open the paper.  His eyes narrow, tongue poking out from between his lips slightly, eyebrow furrowing.  Then he finally unfolds the slip, and she's slightly worried to see the look of shock and surprise that passes over his face.  Eyes widening, mouth parting slightly as his eyebrows raise.  She feels her own eyebrows furrow in confusion.  Who's name could it be to garner that kind of a react-

  "Sylvia Thornton."  

  Unlike when Tanner's name was pulled, the sound of her own name echoing throughout the plaza elicits an audible reaction from several areas of the crowd.  Instantly, she feels hundreds of eyes on her.  She's easy to pick out seeing as almost everyone knows who she is.  She feels her own eyes widen, the prickling of tears in the corners of her eyes, the quivering of her lips.  Fuck.  There's no way this is happening, right?  This was supposed to be her last year before she'd never have to worry about the reapings again.  She blinks and hopes she'll wake up from whatever nightmare this is.  She was so close.  So fucking close.    

  And then she glances at Magnus and the others, and as soon as she sees the looks on their faces, her whole demeanor changes.  Their faces are full of sadness, and once she sees that, she breathes deeply through her nose, setting her face neutrally.  Straightening her back, she lifts her chin.  She wasn't going to cry.  Not when hundreds and thousands of people were watching.  Not when the whole district knew who she was.  She knows the people in Panem watching don't know who she is, but they will in a second. 

  Stepping out of the row, she takes calculated steps down the aisle, refusing to look anyone in the eye.  Instead of making a beeline for the stage, she takes a few steps to the left, reaching underneath her shawl and wrapping her fingers around the hilt of her hunting knife.  It's one of her prized possessions, but she knows there's no way she can take it into the arena.  And she'd die before she lets one of the peacekeepers confiscate it from her.   

  Pulling it out of its sheath, the sunlight catches the blade, reflecting it onto her face.  She nods once as she places the hilt in Magnus's palm, eyes staring into his own.  She doesn't say anything, doesn't try to communicate with him.  They both know this will only go one of two ways.  Either she'll die in the arena, and if that happens, she at least knows that he'll understand her gratitude for all he's done for her.  Or she survives and comes back, and life will continue one way or another.  But it will probably go the former way.  Killing animals is okay when it's in the defense of another or herself, but killing a person?  Killing someone her age of younger? That was another thing entirely.  She knows she won't kill anyone in that arena, and Magnus knows it,  too.    

  As soon as the knife is out of her hands, she turns back and walks up the stairs to the stage, looking out to the crowd.  Her eyes scan over the faces, over the town beyond them, trying to memorize it and take it all in incase its her last time witnessing it.  She takes her spot on the other side of the mayor, opposite Tanner, and her eyes catch onto the camera.  She keeps her gaze on it for a few seconds, making steely eye contact with whoever is watching on the other end, before she ultimately looks away at the sound of the peacekeepers footsteps. 

  Taking what little initiative she can, she takes long strides away from the peackeepers and towards Tanner.  She knows where they'll take them, anyway.  It's the same every year.  Tanner's watching her carefully, and she realizes with a start that she recognizes him.  Not from the reaping, but from a few years ago.  She had worked on his father's farm to guard their cows and at the end of her designated overnight shift, Tanner had just been waking up.  He told her about the accident he was in with one of the cattle that caused an injury to his left eye, making it unable to open again.  

  The sudden memory inspires even more anger in her than there already is.  Ignoring the peacekeepers and district 10 and the mayor and the hunters, she links her left arm through his right, turning them both away from the crowd and the cameras.  She turns them away from district 10 and instead faces them towards their deaths.     

Chapter 3: the train

Every year it's the same.  The unfortunate souls reaped during the ceremony are brought to the district's train station, where they're held for a day before the train picks them up and brings them to the capitol.  They stay for a few days- if they're lucky- before they're thrown into the arena to fight each other to the death.  

  It's like clockwork.  Sylvia's been present for every single reaping since the war ended.  The peacekeepers guide her and Tanner to the train station, first taking them behind the stage and then navigating through back alleys and empty streets until they reach the platform.  There's a small room there, in what used to be some sort of conductors office or another, but it's long since been repurposed to hold the tributes.  Tanner and her are guided into the room, but the peacekeepers never touch her.  And by extension, they never touch him.  As careful as peacekeepers are to keep an extra eye on hunters due to their weapon-carrying regulation, they still respect Sylvia and the rest. 

  Once they're in the room and the door is shut and locked behind them, Sylvia carefully pulls her arm out of Tanner's.  She doesn't look at him, rather she surveys the room, taking slow, careful steps.  In the silence, her steps echo loudly, reverberating against the four stone walls of the room.  There's a single window, lined with vertical bars that face the platform and the single track.  Pushed against the far wall of the room are two single cots with nothing more than a thin sheet to cover the dirty mattress.  On the wall next to the door is a small wooden table, on top of which sits a single gas lamp.  

  When she finishes her examination of the room and turns back around, she finds Tanner is staring right at her.  She watches him for a moment, and then his eyes widen when they lock with hers, almost as if he himself hadn't realized he was watching her.  

  A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lip, nearly invisible.  "You doin' alright there?" She asks, taking a few more steps until she comes to one of the cots, the one closest to the window.  

  Sitting down on it carefully, she tests how it holds under half her weight.  After a moment, she deems it safe and sits down fully, pointedly ignoring the creaking of rusted springs under her. She chooses not to think about how this was probably the last semblance of comfort the past year's tributes got before they were killed.    

  "Well... ya' know..." Tanner starts, shrugging as he turns to examine the room without moving, "As good as I can, I guess. Considerin' the circumstances."  The tension is palpable.  It lingers heavy in the small space and Sylvia feels as though she could cut it with a knife.  

  Almost subconsciously, her hand comes up, drifting underneath her shawl and pulling out the necklace with the coyote tooth.  She starts fiddling with it, as has become a nervous tick of hers the past couple of years.  Her eyes dart around the room, and eventually come to a stop on the window as she scours her brain for something to say.  Outside, the sun is just beginning to lower in the sky, not close to the horizon, but definitely past its halfway point.  

  "At least we know each other, I guess."  Sylvia mutters absentmindedly, flipping the coyote tooth over and over again against her chest.  Her eyes remain locked on the train platform outside the window, but she sees him turn to give her his attention out of the corner of her eye.  

  "Huh?"  He mutters, almost half-heartedly. He nearly slurs the word and the notion of that makes her turn her head to look at him. 

  Glancing over him, she nods once.  "Your Pa hired me, once."  She explains, shifting on the bed so both of her hands are on the cot, one leg crossed over another, giving him her full attention.  As she speaks, he moves to the other cot and she swivels to follow him.  "It was an overnight job.  Coyote pack messin' with y'alls cattle.  When my night shift ended, you were just wakin' up.  Came outside and you told me-"

  "About my eye."  He finishes, nodding in realization.  He chuckles, gaze downcast.  "Yeah, I remember that.  What were we... fourteen? Fifteen?"  

  The corner of her lip tugs upwards as she tilts her head. "Yeah, somethin' like that."  Truthfully, she doesn't know if it's better that they know each other or not.  Even if they do align together, one of them might have to kill the other.  Unless one of them dies beforehand.  The thought of it almost makes her sickly.  

  Gazing around the cell, glancing outside the window, feeling the dry heat... all of it makes her ache.  It pulls at her heart strings.  When she speaks, it's almost an unconscious decision.  "I don't think I'm comin' back here."  

  Tanner's gaze snaps quickly to her, his eyebrows furrowing deeply in confusion.  Turning to look at him, she sees his lips pull down into a frown as he leans forward.  "What are you talking about?  If anything, I'd almost guarantee you have the best shot of winnin' out of anyone else.  You're a Hunter, this is what you were trained for, isn't it?  To kill?" 

  "Killin' a predator is different than killin' a human."  She snaps quickly, then immediately regrets it.  Sighing deeply, she reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose.   "I mean..."  She exhales deeply, "It's one thing to kill an animal that's threatening someone or something else.  Or to kill in self defense.  It's another thing entirely to kill someone who didn't do nothin' to me, especially if it's another tribute.  Doesn't matter if they're comin' after me... they didn't have a choice.  In the end, we all just wanna get home." 

  Tanner doesn't respond, but the quiet nod of his head tells her everything she needs to know.  After that, the hours go by quickly.  They talk about their homes, their jobs.  She learns he has no siblings and that he started working in the slaughterhouse adjacent to his father's farm as soon as he turned 16.  She tells him about the Hunters, about the odd jobs she's been on.  Nothing personal, just talk.  They talk to each other as if they're friends.  After all, this may be the last chance either of them will have to have a conversation like this.  

  When the sun dips below the horizon, casting golden light into the room through the barred window, Sylvia hears the peacekeepers changing rotation outside.  Her and Tanner talk into the earlier hours of the night.  Neither of them are particularly tired, too wired up on adrenaline and fear and nervousness to get any real sleep.  They talk about the games, about what weapons they're hoping to find.  Neither her nor Tanner really consider that they could be revealing their plans, or that their talk could potentially assist one of them in killing the other.  In the end, it won't matter.  If it comes down to it, she'll let him kill her.  She'd gladly do it if it meant he'd get to go back to his parents.  

  Falling asleep is hard for both of them, and what little sleep either of them manage to get is plagued by fear and worry.  Sylvia never falls into deep sleep, mostly hanging about in the half-conscious realm, toeing the line.  She hears Tanner tossing and turning all night, not that she's much better.  She'd done enough overnight jobs that she can stay awake for several days and nights at a time. Of course, that's if she has food and water.  All she's hoping is that this little skill of hers will be useful in the arena.  

  The morning sun wakes her up, blazing through the window and accompanied by the dry heat that settles like a blanket over the district.  Tanner wakes up shortly after, and that morning is spent in relative silence as both of them continue to come to terms with what's happening.  Part of Sylvia had been hoping that she'd wake up in her bed at the Hunter's lodge, under her sewn covers with the reaping behind her.  Some other pour soul would be on the train in a few hours, off to their death, while she would feed Cash and go out for another job. 

  Of course, this doesn't happen.  Part of her feels bad for thinking it, but in the end, it doesn't change anything.  A few hours after noon, the peacekeepers come to collect them, grabbing both of them by the arm but being careful not to be too rough.  If Sylvia had to guess, she's say the peacekeepers even looked a little sorry for her.   

  Abruptly, the silence is cut through by the sound of a train whistle, loud and shrill.  Sylvia flinches from the volume of it, gritting her teeth and turning her head slightly to the side as if she can escape it.  But she can't escape the sound anymore than she can escape her own fate.  The thumping of the train on the tracks slows down, seemingly in time with her own heartbeat.    

  A sense of dread fills her as the train pulls into the station, breaks squealing on the old tracks as it stops at the platform. Directly in front of her and Tanner are two cattle cars.  She's seen them pulling in and out of the district enough to know exactly what they are.  To her, it's just another way for the Capitol to express what they think of the people in the districts: that they're lesser then them, equal to animals.  Maybe even lower than animals.  All she knows is that she wouldn't subject an animal to something like the hunger games.  

  Once the train comes to a complete stop, one of the peacekeepers on the platform marches forward to the front cattle car.  There's a loud clicking sound, and Sylvia watches as he pushes the sliding door of the car open.  The sun floods into the interior of the metal box, and Sylvia gets a clear view of it and its occupants.  Straw and dirt cover the floor and the metal inside is rusted and stained.  Inside, there's several other tributes.  Sylvia does a quick count and finds there's ten of them already in there.  There's a deep, earthy smell that emanates from inside, and that smell only gets stronger when the peacekeepers pull her and Tanner over to it roughly.  

  Tanner nearly stumbles from the sudden pull, but Sylvia's reflexes are quick.  Her hand darts out to grab his arm and stabilize him as she turns to glare at the peacekeeper.  As they approach the car, the peacekeeper has the decency to look at least a little bit worried for his own safety. She may not have her knife or any other weapons, but those in district 10 are well aware she knows how to kill someone with just her bare hands.  

 She lets go of Tanner's arm only when they reach the edge of the platform and are guided semi-roughly into the cattle car. Once the hands of the peacekeepers are off of them, they move to the far right corner, back at the far wall.  The stagnant, dry air of the cattle car is one of the first things she notices.  The second thing is the whispering, hushed voices echoing in the car as the tributes mutter to each other.  

  Leaning against the wall, she sits down on the ground, keeping her eyes on the peacekeepers that still stand on the platform.  Tanner doesn't sit, though.  He remains standing, back against the wall with his fists clenched at his sides, glaring at the soldiers outside similarly to Sylvia.  After a few moments and several orders yelled out on the platform, the car doors shut swiftly.  The movement is so quick she almost misses it when she blinks, but then the train horn cuts through the air again.  With her gaze still set dully on the cattle car door, she raps her knuckles once against Tanner's leg with just enough force to gain his attention.  She looks up and they lock eyes, and she motions to the ground with a nod, a clear sign for him to sit.  

  Thankfully, he takes her advice and sinks to the ground next to her just as the train abruptly starts moving again.  His shoulder nudges against her and she braces her arm on the ground so she doesn't hit the red head girl sitting next to her.  

  As the train starts picking up speed, the thumps against the rails matching her own heartbeat, she has the sudden feeling of several pairs of eyes on her.  Looking up from where her gaze has been set on the floor of the car, she's met with the sight of every other tribute looking at her and Tanner.  Her district partner seems to have already noticed, if his knee knocking against hers is anything to go by.  

  Raising an eyebrow, she takes a moment to glance at every one of them.  "What?"  She demands.  

  At the one word, she hears a strangled sound come from the girl next to her, something between her breath hitching and a sob catching in the back of her throat.  Sylvia's not sure which it is.  She fights the urge to turn to look next to her and check on the girl.    

  The one to speak up is a dark skinned boy on the opposite side of the car.  He sits next to a small girl with curly hair that poofs out around her head.  "What're your names?"  He questions, voice gruff and strained. 

  Well... that certainly wasn't the question she was expecting.  It now only hits her that she doesn't know any of these kids or their names, or even what district they're from.  

  A name can't hurt, she surmises.  She sits criss cross on the ground, her skirt folding around her legs.  "Sylvia."  She answers, then turns to look at Tanner, waiting to see if he'll answer, too.  

  And he does, a moment later.  "Tanner."  He says to no one in particular, then leads his head back against the wall of the car.  His eye shuts, and to anyone not paying attention it might look like he was resting.  But being right next to him, she can see the downward pull of his lips, the furrow in his eyebrows, how his shoulders tense... he's anxious and nervous, like he's waiting for one of the tributes to attack him.  

  But they won't.  At least now now.  When she looks back to the rest of the car all she can see is a bunch of scared, tired kids.  Without having to ask, they go around one by one and say their names, starting with the pair on the other side of Tanner, sitting against the wall next to them.  The girl wears a colorful skirt and corset, and the boy looks relatively muscular, but also somewhat sickly.  She catches sight of some kind of bite on his neck as he's introducing himself as Jessup.  The girl is Lucy Grey.  They're the district twelve pair.  

  The next two are Bobbin and Woven from eight, and the boy who had first asked them their names is Reaper.  Him and the girl- Dill- are from eleven.  The two next to them are Coral and Mizzen from four, and then it finally gets to the pair sitting right next to Sylvia.  They're from seven, Lamina and Treech.  Out of everyone in the car- Sylvia notes- Mizzen, Dill, and Woven look the youngest.  Wovey rests on Bobbin's shoulder, and she can't be any older than 12, if Sylvia has to guess.  Mizzen and Dill she would guess are the same age, probably either 13 or 14.  The rest of the tributes in this car look all older than 16.  The thought doesn't comfort her.  

  After introductions, all of them lapse back into tense silence.  There's no need to speak to each other when they all know what everyone else is thinking- that at some point, everyone except one person is going to die.  And that some of them will kill some of the others.  It's the underlying truth that encompasses all of them and seems to hit some harder than others.  

  The district 7 girl- Lamina- has her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them.  Her face is buried in her knees, but by the slight shaking of her shoulders, Sylvia would guess she's crying.  It's a silent cry, but a cry nonetheless.  Her district partner- Treech, she remembers- is pressed closed to her other side, watching the other tributes warily.  It seems like he's taken somewhat of a protecting role over her.  If Sylvia had to guess, she'd say they probably knew each other at least relatively well before the reaping.  

  Her thoughts are cut off when the train goes over a bump, and the sound of it thumping over tracks monotonously is suddenly joined by another sound.  Any chatter in the car immediately ceases when the sound of what seems to be an eerie whispering filters in.  Sylvia knows what it is immediately, and the smallest hint of a smile begins to form on her face when she hears it.  She's quick to get rid of the smile, but the memories of the sound they're all hearing remain.  She's spent countless days and nights listening to this sound, getting lost in it all.  Her and Cash and the stars above them as they relaxed on the edge of a cliff, looking out over the desert all the way to the horizon.  

  Glancing to her side, the only hint of recognition on Tanner's face is a quirked eyebrow as he bends down slightly.  There's a set of small slits in the car wall, close to the ground, just big enough to see out of.  His one good eye watches out the slits for a few seconds before he straightens up again.  Sylvia turns, the sound of it catching the other tributes attention as the eerie whispering sound continues to float through the car.  It's like an echo, like a thousand voices yelling but somehow whispering at the same time.  Loud in tone, but low in volume.  A very particular sound that can only come from one thing.   

  Bending slightly at the waist, she peeks out the slits of the car, blinking against the harsh sunlight before her eyes adjust.  She presses her hand to the metal wall, and outside she sees the familiar sight of the canyon.  The slit is large enough for her to see the cliffs and part of the canyon, but her view is cut off before she can see the true expanse of it.  If she were outside, she would be able to see all the way to the horizon.  But she can only see half of it right now.  

  "What is that?" A voice asks, breaking the silence of the car.  It's close enough that she knows it's someone next to her, but the voice is female.  She figures it's Lamina.  

  Straightening up, she presses her back against the wall again, shifting to find some semblance of comfort.  As she does, she becomes suddenly aware of the eyes on her, all looking for an answer to the question Lamina asked.  

  "Canyon wind."  Sylvia responds, glancing to her right at the district 7 girl to explain.

  And instantly, she freezes.  Only for a second, not long enough for any of the other tributes to notice, but it does happen.  She feels herself freeze, all because of the girl next to her.  

  She's easily one of, if not the most beautiful girl Sylvia has ever seen.  Her face is sharp and angular, with high cheekbones and dark eyes.  Her red hair reaches down to her shoulders, curled just slightly.  It's partially held back from her face with a bandana styled into a headband.  And even though there's a thin layer of dirt clinging to her face streaked with tear tracks, Sylvia's instantly enthralled.  Suddenly, her heartbeat isn't matching the thudding of the train against the tracks anymore.  Is she having heart palpations?  Is this what a heart attack feels like?  She might be sick, if the strange, unknown feeling in her stomach is anything to go by. 

  There has to be something wrong with her. She wouldn't be acting this... odd, otherwise. 

  Either way, she masks the panic on her face and cautiously continues to explain the sound that's now filtering out of the car as the train speeds away from the canyon.  Forcing herself to look away from the girl for fear she might actually pass away, she glances around at the rest of the tributes.  

  "Sometimes when the wind moves through the canyon it sounds like whispering.  Cause of the rock formations and caves or something like that.   There's lot of stories about men going mad down in them, or at the cliffs because they think there's spirits whispering in their ear."  She explains, shrugging.  The sound of Tanner chuckling makes her smirk slightly as she pulls her shawl tighter around her body. 

  "It's cause of dehydration."  Tanner deflects, causing Sylvia to actually smirk and turn her head to face him, raising an eyebrow.  "People who aren't used to the desert go in and don't come out.  They start hallucinating, imagining things cause of dehydration, starvation, heat exhaustion.  No such thing as ghosts.  There's just stupidity."  

  Sylvia chuckles, her head leaning back against the wall as she pulls her hat off.  She rests it on its crown, setting it neatly on the floor in front of her.  "You believe what you want, slaughterhouse boy.  But which one of us has actually been to the canyons, asshole?"  She jokes, the smirk turning to a grin when Tanner reaches over and shoves her lightly.  She forces her grin back down to a small smirk, turning to the rest of the tributes again.  "But he's right.  Partially, at least.  Peacekeepers in ten don't worry about people running away that much cause they control the only water supplies around for a hundred miles.  There's nothin' out in the desert except ghost towns and saguaros.  Every once in a while somebody gets the idea to run, thinking they're gonna be the first to make it."  Shifting, she frowns as the memories of finding bodies in the canyon resurface.  "Eventually, though, they send one of us out to catch some predator or another.  Usually we find the runaway, too.  Or what's left of 'em.  Buzzards usually get to 'em first."  

  There's a bout of silence in which no one in the car speaks, mulling over the explanation.  Sylvia remembers the first time she had gone out to the canyon lands, miles away from the farm she was working at.  There had been what the Hunters called a 'repeat predator', which is generally what it sounds like.  The same mountain lion had been picking off cattle and sheep from several different farms in a couple mile radius.  They only knew it was the same one because of the footprints- the damn thing had an extra toe on one paw.  Some genetic defect.  Magnus had sent Sylvia to deal with it, seeing as the last place it struck was the farm she was watching. 

  She had almost been scared shitless when she first heard the canyon wind.  She was so scared, in fact, that she almost missed the mountain lion entirely.  If it hadn't been for Cash rearing back suddenly, the thing would've gotten the jump on her.  And it kind of did.  She shot it with an arrow quick enough to deter it, but it still managed to get a good scratch on her.  But that didn't matter.  She won in the end, anyway.  Kept its tooth on her necklace as a trophy.  The same necklace she's wearing now.  

  "So... you're a hunter, then."  Another voice pipes up in the stiffness of the car.  Sylvia looks up to where the voice came from, and the only tribute looking at her is Mizzen.  Assuming it was him who spoke, she nods her head once.  His eyes become instantly wary at her reaction, and she sees his hands clench tightly at his trousers. 

  Trying to calm him at least a little, she smiles. "Relax.  I'm basically a glorified cowboy."

  Thankfully, her small joke does what she intends.  She sees Mizzen struggle to contain a smile, and he looks away and back to Coral, starting a conversation as he pointedly keeps his gaze away from Sylvia.  Smiling to herself at the reaction, she turns to look back at the floor in front of her when another sound catches her attention.  

  With most of the tribute pairs talking amongst themselves, the sound is easily missed by everyone else.  But Sylvia hears it.  She could hear the smallest sound in the loudest room, especially if the sound is coming from the person sitting right next to her.  

  Turning her head to the right, she sees Lamina's eyes tearing up, gaze set on the floor in front of her.  She's bitting her lip so hard Sylvia feels it will start bleeding, and by the expression on her face Sylvia can tell she's trying her hardest to keep from crying.  

  She doesn't think about what she does next.  Doesn't hesitate when she moves her elbow, knocking it into Lamina's to gain her attention.  The red head startles slightly, gaze snapping from the floor and to Sylvia.  

  Sylvia hates the way her heartbeat quickens when the other girl looks at her, hates the way she can feel a strange fluttering in her stomach.  But that doesn't stop her from holding her hand a few inches off the floor, flipping it so her palm is up.  It's a clear invitation and she tries to ignore the shakiness in her breathing when Lamina's gaze flickers to her hand.  

  Looking away, she doesn't watch as Lamina carefully slips her hand into hers.  She tries not to think about how her hand interlocks perfectly with Lamina's like that's what it was created to do.  She ignores the straining feeling in her chest when Lamina interlocks their fingers, holding Sylvia's hand tight in her own.  Her gaze remains set on the floor in front of her and she definitely does not relish in the feeling of Lamina's hand in her own.  

  But she does take notice of the feeling of it.  Of how Lamina's skin is just slightly cooler than her own.  She can feel the small callouses on Lamina's hands and fingers and she imagines Lamina can feel the ones that dot her own hand.  The shakiness of Lamina's hand is not lost on her, but it does start to subside as the minutes go by, neither of them speaking a word to each other.  

  She's just comforting her.  That's all it is.  They're both children, sent to die in a game that was rigged against them from the start.  And yes, she knows how she must look to the other tributes.  A girl raised and trained to be able to kill huge predators in the desert.  Riddled with scars, filled with stories of kills, covered in the trophies of her victories.  To them, she must look like something to be scared of.  If she was planning on trying to win these games, that notion would be something to be proud of.  She'd even play into it, not saying a word, glaring at the lot of them.  

  But she doesn't plan on winning these games.  Doesn't plan on killing anyone- or hurting anyone, for that matter.  She plans on letting herself lay down and die at the hands of any one of the other tributes, if that's what it takes.  So she holds the hand of the district 7 girl, giving her what little comfort she can.  Even if it doesn't matter in the end.

Notes:

the way she feels flustered and has a crush for the first time in her life and immediately attributes it to a heart attack is so me

also this might be a little early to mention but this is going to be a slight au. I dont know how to explain it without spoiling but y'all r gonna have to TRUST in my infinite wisdom and feminine intuition. my psychic, divinatory dreams are feeding me ideas and im just rolling with it

Chapter 4: the capitol

The train pulls in to its last stop early the next morning, screeching to a halt and jostling them all out of whatever little sleep they managed to get.  Sylvia's hand- still held in Lamina's, not having moved since yesterday- reaches up to wipe her eyes.  Her fingers slip out of Lamina's, and though she misses the touch- not that she would ever say that- she knows they'll probably be separated anyway.  Or maybe they won't. Sylvia's not quite sure what will happen after this point. 

  Returning her hat to its former place on her head, she stands up from her spot, pushing off her knees and stretching her back.  There's a clattering outside, the sound of yelled orders, and then a click as the lock on the outside of the car is turned.  Then, bright sunlight floods into the small compartment, making her cringe and raise a hand.  How long had it been since she'd seen the sun without it being filtered through the cattle car?  She can't really remember.  

  And then one of the peacekeepers is yelling, ushering them out of the car.  Turning, she makes sure the others stand up- Tanner, then Lamina, then Treech and the rest- before she follows some of the other pairs out of the car, Tanner by her side.  

  He jumps out of the car first and onto the platform below, bending his knees as he lands.  Immediately, he turns and holds a hand out for Sylvia, which she accepts as she hops out of the car and lands beside him.  Pausing for a moment, she takes a look around.  

  If she hadn't known they were in the capitol, she most certainly could've guessed.  The platform is clean, nearly spotless.  She catches a glimpse of the tops of some buildings, all with fancy exteriors and clean windows.  Even the smell is significantly nice- flowers and herbs and something else she can't quite place.  

  A peacekeeper dragging more of the tributes out of the other cattle car snaps her out of it.  She watches him warily as the other 12 tributes emerge from the car.  Then she turns back to her own car as Lamina emerges from the interior.  Reaching up, she motions to Lamina, not saying a word.  

 The red head leans down, grabbing onto Sylvia's shoulders, and in turn Sylvia grips her waist, placing her down gently on the floor.  The sound of the peacekeepers yelling continues to fill the air, and Sylvia stands there with the rest of the tributes for a moment, unsure of what to do.  

  And then someone else catches her eyes.  Not a peacekeeper, not a tribute.  Someone else entirely.  A boy no older than her in a blood red uniform, carrying a leather satchel over his shoulder.  In his hand, a single white rose.  Her eyebrows furrow at the sight of him.  A capitol boy.  What the hell was he doing here? 

  Sylvia turns, nudging Tanner with her elbow and subsequently gaining the attention of Treech, Lamina, Coral, and Mizzen, who all stand nearby.  She nods to the boy, diverting their attention to him.  Either he's oblivious or he's intentionally ignoring them in favor of looking for someone- or something- else.  

  She doesn't have time to find out what it is before a peacekeeper is suddenly grabbing her by the arm and yanking her forward.  Nearly stumbling, she manages to catch herself before that happens and holds back the reflex to grab the peacekeeper by his wrist and break it.  That would only result in more trouble.  But she can't say the feeling of him tightly gripping her arm is pleasant, and she grits her teeth instead of lashing out.  

  Tanner, though, doesn't hold his tongue as the rest of the tributes are also ushered in the direction she's being brought.  

  "Hey! Don't grab her like that!" Her district partner yells.  When she turns around she sees him stomping forward, and by the look in his eyes she can tell he's about to do something that won't end well.  

  She's just about to wave him off when the peacekeeper loosens his grip, letting go but not lowering his hand.  She rips her arm away from him as another set of peacekeepers keep them moving forward towards a small alleyway off the tracks where a truck sits, the back of it open.  Inside are two benches against either wall, and not much else.  Half the tributes are already in there, and she moves to stand next to Tanner as the rest of them are ushered in to join them.  

  In front of her are Lamina, Treech, and Wovey.  The peacekeepers are rough with them, nearly pushing them into the truck with little care for possible injuries or harm.  But then again, why would they car?  Twenty-three of them were going to be dead within a few days, anyway.  

  When Sylvia climbs into the truck, she just manages to see Bobbin try and run off, darting to the side.  Predictably, the two peacekeepers catch him, hauling him away from the small fence he attempted to jump and back towards the truck. 

  Unpredictably, while they're occupied and distracted, the capitol boy from before jumps into the truck just before Bobbin is thrown in and the doors are slammed shut behind them.  Instantly, all the attention is on him and his blood red uniform.  Sylvia stands near the back of the truck, close to the doors, next to Reaper and Treech.  Tanner sits next to Lamina, who sits on the end of the bench closest to Treech.  The space is cramped, and it seems the capitol boy is only now realizing what he's gotten himself into as he turns and faces the tributes.  

  Sylvia can feel her anger growing.  Who the fuck is this kid and what the fuck does he think he's doing?  She knows the capitol views them as nothing more than animals, if shoving them into cattle cars and then into the back of a cramped truck is anything to go by.   And here this capitol boy is, willingly getting into the truck that the rest of them are forced into? What the fuck is his deal?  

  When he looks at them, it only makes her angrier.  His eyes widen, and then he forces his face back to a neutral expression.  He's trying to hide his nervousness, but the shakiness of his breathing and hands betrays him.  She crosses her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one hip as she narrows her eyes at him.

  He takes a deep breath, then says, "Hi." 

  Somehow, the sound of his voice and the single word he says manages to annoy the shit out of her.  Or maybe that's just the way he looks.  Either way, she'd do anything to beat the shit out of him.  Put her anger somewhere other than her mind.  

  "What's the matter, pretty boy?"  Reaper voices, hands clenched at his sides.  "You in the wrong cage?"  

  Oh, this kid better be careful with his words, Sylvia thinks as she turns her attention back to the capitol boy.  She sees Treech lower his hand from the bar on the ceiling, coming to his side as if he's ready to move.  

  Apparently, the capitol boy doesn't know how to read a fucking room.  Or he just doesn't have any survival instincts.  Clearly, he doesn't know what to say when faced with an obvious situation.  Because the next sentence that leaves his mouth manages to send Sylvia over the line of her anger.  

  "No,"  He answers, shaking his head.  She can practically feel the eyeroll in his voice, let alone the sarcasm, "This cage is delightful." 

 And that's it.  Sylvia throws her hands down and marches forward, pushing Treech lightly out of the way as he mutters, "Get him, Sylvia." Clearly, the hate for this boy is not individually hers.  She's on him quicker than he can blink, let alone react.  His eyes widening is the only reaction he has when she grabs him violently by his blazer and slams him into the wall so hard that the resounding 'thud' echoes through the truck.  His lips part with a gasp and quickly after that, he's standing on the tips of his toes just to touch the ground.  

  "She should kill you right now."  Reaper threatens from behind her, his presence only shadowing her as she holds the capitol boy up against the wall.  

  "She might do it, too."  Tanner continues,  "She's a Hunter back in ten.  Kills all kinds of predators with her hands.  Coyotes, mountain lions..."  He muses, tone cold and apathetic.  

  Sylvia glances at the capitol boy, eyeing him up and down.  "At least mountain lions fight back,"  She mutters, then notices that his eyes are set on her ears.  She tilts her head,  "What's the matter, capitol boy?  Ain't never seen rattlesnake fangs before?"  

  He visibly gulps and her grip on his blazer tightens.  "Can't say I have."  

  "Wanna closer look?"  She retaliates, just before a new voice cuts through the air.  

  "You can't kill him."  Lucy Gray pipes up, gaining Sylvia's attention, "Y'all got family back home?  They'll kill them if you hurt him."  Sylvia chooses not to mention the absence of a biological family and instead listens to the girl, "Besides, he's my mentor," She sighs, "Might need him."  

  Sylvia drops him unceremoniously and suddenly, nearly making him stumble to the ground as she backs up.  Reaper takes her place, fueled likely by anger as he slams the boy up against the wall again.  

  "What's a mendor?"  Coral inquires from the bench, her accent piercing through the word.  Sylvia moves to take the seat at the end of the other bench next to Lamina, watching the interaction carefully. 

  "Mentor,"  The boy corrects snarkily, then looks back to Reaper, "You each get one."  In response, Reaper slams him against the wall again, the sound echoing through the truck. 

  "Then why aren't our mentors here?"  Coral continues, standing up from her spot and crouching in front of Lucy Gray. "Why does, uh... rainbow girl here get special treatment?"

  Sylvia doesn't listen to her response as she turns to look at Lamina, whose gaze is set on the ground but not really looking.  Seems like she's lost in her own thoughts.  It doesn't even seem like she's listening to the conversation or processing anything going on around her. 

  Eyebrows furrowing in worry, Sylvia knocks her knee against the red heads, effectively drawing her out of the strange state. She looks up and meets Sylvia's gaze, who only furrows her eyebrows.  

  "You okay?"  Sylvia mutters lowly, leaning forward to get a better look at Lamina's face.  She holds out her hand without a second thought, and the district 7 girl takes it without any hesitance.  

  Lamina sighs shakily, eyes downcast and welling with tears again.  The sight causes Sylvia to squeeze her hand, and that makes Lamina look back up.  For the first time since they've met, Lamina looks directly at Sylvia, meeting her gaze.  "I don't know if I can make it through this."  She admits lowly, like a secret passing between them for only Sylvia to hear. 

  The statement does nothing except pique her worry, and she opens her mouth to respond.  Before she can, the truck suddenly stops, sending some of the standing tributes to the ground from the suddenness of it.  Lamina knocks into Sylvia, the group gasping in surprise, and Sylvia's hand reflexively moves from Lamina's hand to grab her by the waist, steadying her on the bench.  

  She doesn't move her hand, her grip on the other girl tightening as the sound of gears hissing fills the air, and then suddenly the entire back of the truck is tilting.  It's not a gradual or slow tilt.  It's quick and sudden and sends them all tumbling towards the doors.  Sylvia's back slams against it and she gasps in pain, catching Lamina as she tumbles down nearly on top of her, both hands shooting out to catch her by the waist.  

  And then, before too much damage can be done, the doors behind her swing open and she's falling backwards.

Notes:

sylvia, annoyed by the mere sound of Coriolanus's voice, about to beat his ass: what's the matter, capitol boy? ain't never seen rattlesnake fangs before?

coriolanus snow, who's never been out of the capitol and is most definitely freaked out by the weird girl covered in animal teeth, internally: whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck-

Chapter 5: the zoo

All twenty-five of them tumble down the hill.  Sylvia rolls down a steep slope, one hand keeping its grasp on Lamina's waist, scared the other girl will get hurt if she lets go.  Her other hand holds on to the top of her own head, covering her face with her arm and protecting it from any injury.  

  She slams onto flat ground harshly, breathing deeply as the world begins to right itself.  Deep aches settle into her bones and almost everything hurts to some degree, but nothing too bad.  She keeps her eyes shut, her head pressed against the ground underneath her as she regains her bearings, breathing in and out deeply.  

  Once she's grounded, she turns instantly to Lamina, who's doing almost the same thing as her, pressing her head to the ground as she breathes.  With the hand that's still on her, Sylvia grips Lamina's waist, nudging her with her arm slightly. 

  "You okay?"  She asks worriedly, "You hurt?"  

  Lamina looks up, breathing deeply, then turns to Sylvia.  "No."  She answers.  Her voice shakes and cracks, but she seems relatively unharmed, to Sylvia's great relief.  

  Sylvia nods.  "Okay,"  She mutters, more to herself than anything, "Okay."  She stands up slowly, turning and examining the area they're in as she does.  She sees the lack of walls first, and in their place is high iron bars that make up the perimeter of the area.  She sees the rocks, trees and a tire swing, and then what looks like a small, empty river bed circling the perimeter of it.  Her eyebrows furrow, and then she looks up, past the iron bars and trees and rocks and other tributes.  

  The realization of where they are hits her suddenly.  She's never been in a zoo before, mostly because they don't have one in district 10.  But she does recognize the troughs used to feed animals, and the hay and straw that's strewn around in other nearby cages.  

  An enclosure.  They put them in a fucking zoo enclosure.  As if herding them to the capitol in cattle cars wasn't enough.  

  Vaguely, she recognizes the fact that there's people outside the bars.  There's what she assumes are capitol citizens and children, pointing into the enclosure as the rest of the tributes try to regain their bearings.  But more than that, there's an eccentric little man who's been talking the entire time, and he's being recorded by a camera crew.  

  Scoffing and rolling her eyes, she pushes down her anger for now.  She turns back around, bending over slightly to gently grab Lamina's forearms and help her off the ground.  On instinct, she brushes the dirt and muck off the girl's shoulders and picks the pieces of straw out of her hair.  Lamina's eyes are tearing up again, and Sylvia recognizes the shakiness of her lips and hands. 

  Smiling softly at her, she brushes her hand over Lamina's bicep.  She looks around, then spots a large flat rock a few feet away.  It's off to the side of the enclosure, far from the camera crew and any pointing citizens.  Nodding to it, she begins to guide Lamina over.  "Come on, let's sit."  She urges slightly.  The last thing she wants is for the citizens or the camera crew outside the bars to make a mockery of Lamina.  

  Treech follows close by, and Sylvia lets go of Lamina's arm.  The boy sits down on the rock next to Lamina, and Sylvia gives her one last smile before she walks off towards the others to find Tanner.  On her way towards the middle of the enclosure, she sees the capitol boy and Lucy Grey near the bars, entertaining and talking to the little kids and camera crew.  

  Part of her wants to scare the little kids with the teeth she has on her.  She pauses in her steps, considering it.  It could be funny.  And what were they going to do?  Kill her?  

  Ultimately she doesn't.  Even though she wants to. 

  She finds Tanner towards the slope they were dropped down, at the back of the enclosure.  His arms are crossed, his one good eye scanning over the area.  He gazes particularly at the iron bars and the citizens beyond them before he registers her appearance.  One glance at her tells him she's not happy.  

  Standing in front of him, she makes sure to keep her back to the citizens and camera crew.  "It's like they're trying to kill us before we even get to the fucking arena."  Tanner snaps.  Sylvia can't help but agree with a nod.  Not only is there no protection at all from the elements, but she's seen at least six rat traps in the general vicinity.  The rat poison lays dusted around them, out in the open for anyone to accidentally inhale or touch.  She makes a mental note to not go near them at all.   

  "Honestly?  I don't think they give a damn."  She responds, crossing her arms over her chest.  

  A door that was previously camouflaged into the back wall of the enclosure opens, and out storm two peacekeepers.  For a moment, she thinks they're here for one of them, and she steps back slightly, ready to move back towards Lamina at the first sign of danger.  Fortunately, the peacekeepers ignore the tributes entirely, instead making a beeline for Coriolanus. 

  She feels her shoulders lose their tension, but for a moment she questions the impulse she just had.  The first sign of danger, and the only instinct she had was to protect Lamina.  

  There's definitely something wrong with her.  She's got to have some sickness that's affecting her brain.  

  Either way, she doesn't want to think about it.  She's got too much to worry about other than the weird fluttery feeling she gets in her stomach every time she's near Lamina.  

  Tanner starts to talk strategy with her.  Nothing too detailed, just some basic things.  Like what to do in the first few minutes- run away or try for a weapon at the Cornucopia?  He brings up weapons, suggesting she might have a good chance with a bow and arrows, or some knives.  

  She smiles gently at him when he suggests that, tilting her head.  "Tanner," She says gently, "We talked about this."  She knows he remembers the conversation they had in the room at the train station.  

  Tanner sighs, practically deflating.  He runs a hand through his hair.  "I know.  I just..."  He trails off, and Sylvia can practically see the thought process in his mind, "I don't want to watch you just lay down and die.  You have people back in ten that care about you.  Hunters have mentors, don't they?  And I'm sure you had friends-"

  "Tanner."  Sylvia interrupts, abruptly cutting off his soon-to-be rant.  Reaching forward to grab his elbow, she smiles gently at him, "I appreciate that you're concerned for me.  But there's no way I'm surviving these games.  I'm not killing anyone."  She says simply.  

  Tanner hesitates for a moment, taking in her words.  His one eye flickers across her face, trying to find something unknown to her.  Ultimately, after a few seconds, he sighs deeply.  "Okay."  He mutters, glancing at the ground and dragging the toe of his boot through the dirt.  "For what it's worth, though... you would've won.  Really." 

  Sylvia smiles sadly.  As much as she doesn't want to think about that scenario, it's probably true.  Out of everyone here, she's the only one that's been trained to kill.

  Glancing away from Tanner, she looks towards the rest of the tributes.  Mostly, they're all sitting around and talking to their district partners.  She looks back at Tanner. 

  "You should think about making an alliance." She suggests, "You're strong.  You know your way around blades.  It could be a good idea." 

  He looks up at her words, then seems to consider the idea.  Pursing his lip, he nods and tilts his head.  "Yeah.  Couldn't hurt, I guess."  But he's still got that sad look in his eyes. 

  They spend the next couple hours just hanging around, talking.  At some point the rest of the tributes realize there's no point in avoiding and glaring at each other if they're all gonna be stuck in the same enclosure for the next few days.  Sylvia watches as slowly but surely, most of them start to mingle.  It takes a good hour or two, sure, but by the end of it everyone can at least have a conversation. 

  Sylvia's sitting by herself towards the back of the enclosure, observing everything, when she hears her name called.  Turning towards the noise, she sees Coral and Mizzen looking expectantly at her from underneath one of the trees.  Mizzen- as intimidating as he tries to look- stands just a little bit behind Coral, who holds her hand out slightly in front of him.  

  Standing up, she approaches them, taking a seat on the tire swing and planting her feet on the ground.  "What's goin' on?"  She asks curiously, looking to Mizzen, the one who called her name.  

  Mizzen tries to keep the intimidating look on his face, but he looks to Coral before he answers Sylvia.  Coral nods once, and Mizzen looks back to her.  He seems somewhat sheepish to ask the question, eyes looking down to the ground as he kicks at an invisible rock with the toe of his boot.  

  "Are you really a cowboy?"  He mutters.  He refuses to look her in the eyes and starts kicking the ground again.  

  Sylvia can't help the grin that spreads slowly over her face.  A small laugh escapes her lips, especially when she sees Mizzen look flushed, still looking at the ground.  One of her hands comes up to hold the rope of the tire swing. 

  "I mean... yeah, basically."  She answers, grinning and tilting her head.  "Why?" 

  When she answers, his head snaps up.  He looks at Coral and then at her so fast she fears his neck will snap.  The sight makes her laugh and raise her eyebrows.  "Do you ride a horse?" 

  Smiling, she nods again.  "Yeah.  Her name's Cash.  She's brown and white.  Fastest horse in the district." She says confidently.  The thought of her horse makes her sad, but at the same time, she enjoys taking the opportunity to tell someone about her.  

  "I've never seen a horse before."  He says, "Or the desert."  He adds as an afterthought.  This is the most excited she thinks she's seen him.  She's glad he can find some point of happiness and wonder before the games.  

  Though she can't imagine her life without either of those things, she understands that people in other districts grew up differently.  "I've never seen a boat." She responds, "Or the ocean.  The biggest body of water I've ever seen is a river about..." She indicates an area of the enclosure about seven yards across, then shrugs, "...this wide." 

  His eyes widen as she lets her hands drop.  "What?"  He demands, voice raising.  Sylvia sees Coral smirk and try to hold back a laugh as she looks away.  "Have you ever been swimming?"            

  Sylvia shrugs, pursing her lips.  "Yeah.  It was only waist deep in the river, though."  

  Her eyes shine in amusement as his jaw almost drops.  He looks from her to Coral, who just shrugs, though a small smirk plays at her lips.  He looks back at Sylvia, then whispers dramatically, "I'm so sorry."  He shakes his head, bringing a hand to his chest as if he's well and truly mourning some kind of loss.  The sight makes her laugh a little harder than she intended, and she drops her gaze to the ground.  

  He grins and drops his hand, sitting on the ground in front of her.  "Do you catch cows and stuff?"  He asks, and when she looks up, still smirking, he looks slightly sheepish again.  "I don't really know what a cowboy does."  He admits, finger drawing patterns in the dirt. 

  "That's okay,"  Sylvia says, "You're kind of right.  Mostly I just get hired by farmers to protect their livestock.  It's a lot of cows and sheep and things like that.  I kill the predators.  Sometimes if there's a predator that keeps coming back, I get sent out farther into the district to hunt it and kill it."  He watches her intently as she speaks.  "But yeah, I catch the cows sometimes, if they go too far away."  She adds.  She doesn't want to scare this kid with her stories of fighting and killing predators. 

  But it seems like he's enthralled.  "What have you killed?"  He asks eagerly, leaning in slightly as he sits criss-cross on the ground.  

  Sylvia smiles, moving off the tire swing and onto the ground in front of him so they're face-to-face.  "Bobcats, rattlesnakes, mountain lions, coyotes..."  She lists.  Her fingers rap slightly against the ground, tapping the dirt with her knuckles as she speaks.  

  Mizzen tilts his head. "What's a mountain lion look like?"  He inquires, brows furrowing in curiosity.  

  Sylvia smirks.  "Wanna see?"  She asks, already reaching back to pull her shawl up slightly.  With her left hand, she gathers the fabric in her hand until it rolls up enough to show the back of her right arm.  More specifically, the tattoo of the mountain lion. Turning, she looks back as she shows her tattoo to Mizzen, whose eyes widen in surprise.  Even Coral looks interested, bending down and looking at the tattoo more closely.  

  "Woah,"  Mizzen says, "That's cool."  He drawls, tilting his head to get a better look at it.  Sylvia chuckles, turning back around and letting her shawl drop back down. 

  Over the next hour or so, she talks to Mizzen some more.  She tells him about the desert sky and the canyons and the animals.  In turn, he tells her about the ocean, the boats him and Coral work on, the kinds of animals they pull up in nets.  Sylvia listens intently, nodding along even though she has some issues envisioning some of the things he's talking about.  Sometimes Coral will pipe up, telling her about something Mizzen hasn't experienced yet, or correcting him on small things.  Turns out, Mizzen is actually more excitable than he lets on.  Things he finds interesting get him excited easily and he likes learning new information.  

  Part of her wants to stay here forever.  It's not a good situation at all, but it's better than where they'll be in a few days time.  She can't imagine this little kid having to kill someone in a few days, but unfortunately, that's the reality of their situation.  The hate she has for the capitol multiplies every second that she's here.  She doesn't think about the killing that will happen soon, doesn't think about how the boy in front of her will either kill or be killed.  

  So she sits and she listens and she tells him about the desert, and pretends that nothing else matters in the moment.

Notes:

I have plans that involve mizzen and the arena and I want y'all to know that im sorry in advance

Chapter 6: the mentors

At some point or another, some of the capitol students show up, the ones who are supposed to be their mentors. Sylvia is telling Mizzen about the coyote packs that live out in the desert when she hears an unfamiliar voice calling her name.

  Looking away from Mizzen, she switches her gaze to the bars, eyes flickering over faces until she finds one person already looking at her. He's one of the capitol boys, wearing that same irritating blood red uniform. As soon as she locks eyes with him, he waves her over.

  Sighing deeply, she turns back to Mizzen. "I'll take to you later, yeah?" She stands, and he follows her motion, moving back next to Coral. Sylvia smirks and reaches forward, ruffling his hair playfully, then nodding and smiling to Coral before she turns back around. She puts on a neutral expression as she approaches the bars... not that it's hard. She's not exactly thrilled to be talking to this kid.

  "Sylvia Thornton?" He asks, as if he needs the clarification.  He throws her a smirk that she thinks he assumes has more of an impact than it does.  Sylvia crosses her arms, nodding as she stops across from him. "I'm Florus Friend, I'm your-"

  "Mentor. Yeah, I got the memo." She interrupts, eyes narrowing. She shifts her weight, hands clenching against her arms as she tries her best to hold her tongue. Raising her eyebrow, she gives him a face as if to ask what he wants.

  Florus Friend clearly doesn't do well under pressure. Or maybe he's not used to his capitol boy charm failing. Either way, he suddenly looks flustered, a bright red blush forming on his cheeks. "I, uh..." He trails off, looking pointedly away from her as he ruffles through his satchel. He pulls out a water bottle and a wrapped sandwich. His hands shake when he sticks the two items through the bars.

  Watching him carefully, she gazes at the things he offers her.  When she sees the water she suddenly becomes aware of how thirsty she is.  There's only a few moments of hesitance before she reaches out and takes the two items from him.  She tucks the sandwich into the pocket of her skirt, but uncaps the water bottle and takes a sip.  She revels in the feeling of it for a moment, and then she caps it again and looks back to him.  

  "So..."  He hesitates again, the blush on his face becoming more prominent as they lock eyes and she raises an eyebrow at him.  "You're uhh... you're a hunter?"  

  Nodding once, she says, "Yeah.  Back in ten."  She sees the way his eyes light up and internally groans. 

  "So you've been trained to kill?"  He rushes out, a smile blooming on his face.  The combination of the words and his smile makes her disgusted with him, but she bites her tongue.  

  "Yes." Is all she says, choosing not to mention the fact that she doesn't plan on killing anyone.  He looks up at her, and his silence tells her that he's hoping she'll say more, but she doesn't.  

  Sighing, he looks back to the ground.  She can practically see him scrambling in his brain for something to say.  "Uh... do you have anyone, like a... boyfriend... waiting for you back in district ten?"  Is what comes out of his mouth. 

  What the fuck kind of a question is that?  Out of everything he could've said, that's what he chooses to ask her?  She chooses to keep quiet about the fact she'd literally rather get trampled by a horse and tossed off the side of a cliff into the canyon than ever let a man kiss her. 

  Her eyes narrow again, arms coming up to cross over her chest.  "No." 

  He opens his mouth to say something, then seems to think better of it.  All he does is nod, then jabs a thumb behind him.  "Well, uh... I'll see you later.  I've gotta... go do homework."  He says, as if she cares.  She finds herself more disgusted with him.  Here she was with the other tributes, waiting to be thrown into the arena and worrying about their deaths, while he was worrying about a fucking homework assignment.  

  She feels herself shaking slightly with anger, watching with narrowed eyes as he scurries away. She hopes he can feel her glare.  Her eyes follow him until he pushes past the crowd and ultimately disappears.  Forcing herself to breathe in and out, trying to calm herself down, she turns around.  She's slightly startled to see someone who hadn't been there before suddenly standing next to her.

  Sylvia flinches slightly, but otherwise has no outward reaction when her eyes land on Dill, standing a few feet away.  Her first thought is to wonder where Reaper is, since the two of them always seem to be near each other, but then she catches sight of him walking the perimeter of the enclosure, glaring at the citizens and mentors.  

  "Sorry."  Dill apologizes when she sees Sylvia flinch.  "Reaper told me to stand near you while he went to scope everything out."  

  Part of her wonders why Reaper told Dill to stand near her.  But then she glances back to Reaper and wonders if he knows that she doesn't plan on hurting anyone.  He seems like a good enough judge of character.  Trustworthy, almost.  Or maybe he had seen the way she was talking with Mizzen before. 

  Either way, Sylvia smiles at Dill and holds her hand out for her to take, her other hand still grasping the water bottle.  

  Dill smiles, and makes it two steps closer to Sylvia before the sound of screaming cuts through the air.  

  Sylvia's head snaps towards the sound, her whole body turning rapidly.  It takes her a second to find the source of the noise, but then she sees it.  No more than a few feet away, one of the tributes who had been in the other cattle car- her name and district unknown to Sylvia- has grabbed her mentor by her jacket and pulled her against the bars.  Sylvia doesn't know what's happening until she sees the tribute smash a glass bottle agains the bars, sending glass shards flying but leaving the neck of the bottle in tact, the ends of it broken.  

  And then she watches, the tribute moving too swiftly for Sylvia to stop her, as she thrusts the broken end of the bottle into the girls neck.  Sylvia gasps, eyes widening as the crowd starts screaming and the rest of the tributes watch on in shock and surprise.  The tribute lets her body fall to the ground as she stands up, the mentor's throat quickly becoming the same color as her uniform.  

  There's a rush of yelling and crying, and then Lucy Gray's mentor- the Snow boy- is kneeling on the ground next to the fallen mentor.  Sylvia watches, unable to bring herself to move or look away as he presses against the girl's neck, yelling for help.  

  Footsteps catch her attention, and Sylvia looks up from the body just in time to see peacekeepers running towards them.  It's clear the Snow boy things they're coming to help the fallen girl, but Sylvia knows better.  She catches the peacekeepers turning the safety of their guns off, the way they plant their feet, their eyes nowhere else but the tribute who killed the capitol girl.  

  Even before the peacekeepers raise their guns, Sylvia's reacting.  "Get down!"  She yells to no one in particular.  She has just enough time to grab Dill by the arm and throw the both of them around a rock before the sound of gunfire is ringing out.  She covers Dill's body with hers and the younger girl screams, as do most of the other tributes.  Sylvia recognizes the sound of bullets burying themselves in skin, and then the resounding thud of a body hitting the ground.  She waits a second, then two, until she hears the peacekeepers yelling and moving away, assumedly with the Snow boy in tow.  

  She carefully unwraps herself from Dill, the both of them breathing heavily as adrenaline floods through them.  Sylvia's first thought is to check on Lamina, and she quickly stands up from her position, keeping one hand on Dill as her eyes scan the area where she last saw the red head girl. 

  Thankfully, Treech and Lamina both managed to get behind the rock they were sitting on in time.  Sylvia makes sure she can see the rise and fall of Lamina's chest, assuring that she's alive, before she looks back to Dill. 

  "Dill?  You okay, hun?"  She asks gently but hurriedly, crouching down to be face-to-face with the girl.  Pushing back the curls from her face, she looks her over for any obvious injuries.  Dill nods, and then almost immediately raises her arm, a wave of coughing overtaking her.  The sound in itself momentarily surprises her.  It sounds like it hurts, and it comes from her chest.  It sound bad, is all Sylvia can think, and then realization hits her.  Tuberculosis.    

  Immediately, her eyebrows furrow in pity.  Her hand moves to rub Dill's back as she coughs deeply.  It takes her a few moments, but when the coughs subside, Sylvia smiles gently at her.  

  "Here."  She says, handing Dill her water bottle without a second thought.

  Dill looks like she wants to refuse it, but Sylvia just moves it closer to her.  After a few hesitant moments, Dill takes the water, uncapping it and taking a few small sips.  She goes to hand it back to Sylvia, but she shakes her head.  

  "You can have the rest, hun.  I don't need it."  Smiling gently, she looks up and sees Reaper approaching.  His face is neutral but Sylvia can see the worry in his eyes.  She smiles once more at Dill and then turns, looking for Lamina.  

  She sees her standing up slowly, eyes glancing around warily towards the bars as Treech stands close by. Turning around once, she makes sure Reaper is with Dill.  The last thing she wants to do is leave the girl alone after this ordeal, especially when the tributes body is still a few feet away, blood pooling around the corpse.  Pausing, she waits until Reaper is actually with Dill, and then she turns and walks quickly over to Lamina.  

  Lamina stands up slowly, using the rock next to her as support as Treech stands nearby, keeping a watchful eye on the other tributes.  Sylvia can't deny the worry she feels, and when she gets to Lamina, the first thing she does is reach down to help her up.  She makes sure Lamina sees her so she doesn't freak out, and only when she's sure the red head has caught sight of her, does she gently grab Lamina's arm.  Helping her up is easy, given the girl's practically light as a feather.  

  Lamina's legs are shaky, and the tears in her eyes make it seem like she's about to cry. Sylvia can't blame her. The whole ordeal is scary enough without another tribute getting murdered in the enclosure a few feet away. 

  Once she's sure Lamina won't collapse if Sylvia lets go of her, she moves to be able to see Lamina's face, her eyes scanning over the girl.  "Are you okay?  Did you get hurt?" She looks to Treech, who stands a few feet away, breathing heavily.  His eyes look a little wide.  "You okay?" She asks him, nodding in his direction, raising her eyebrows in question. It takes him a moment to process her words, but then he nods at her. 

  Nodding, she lets herself breathe slightly. She looks back to Lamina, glancing over her face to make sure she's alright. "Lamina?  You okay?" She repeats, and only then does she realize that Lamina's not even looking at her. She's looking past her, over her shoulder with wide eyes.  As Sylvia turns around to follow her line of sight, she comes to the quick realization that Lamina is looking at the body of the tribute.  

  From this angle, Sylvia can see her face. Wide, shocked eyes, her mouth slightly parted. An eternal expression of fear.  Sylvia wishes she could do something, but she knows she can't.  The body is still and the blood is pooling around her, soaking into the ground. 

  The feeling of Lamina's hand squeezing her arm brings her attention back to the red head. Sylvia turns back around with a worried expression on her face.  She does her best to hide it in order to calm Lamina, biting her lip slightly.  

  "Okay.  Come on."  She urges quietly, holding Lamina's arm and guiding her to sit on the rock.  She places Lamina so she's facing away from the body, even if it means that Sylvia has to constantly see the fearful expression of the dead girl.  She'd much rather be stuck looking at the body than have Lamina witness it constantly.  Even though she knows only one of them will be alive in a few days time.  

  As much as she tries to keep her attention on Lamina, rubbing her arm with her thumb and trying to reassure her, the only thing she can see in her mind is the dead girl's face. 

Notes:

I have so many plans of what to do in the arena and its just a matter of how sad and traumatizing I want to make it.

Chapter 7: the card game

A half hour after the shooting of the tribute, peacekeepers come and collect her. 

  Sylvia is talking to Lamina in a hushed voice, bringing her back down from the brink of a panic attack.  The door at the back of the enclosure opens, and several peacekeepers move in abruptly.  Sylvia looks towards them immediately, watching as they start yelling at the tributes to stay where they are with their hands up.  

  Glaring in their direction, Sylvia puts her hands up near her head, spread enough that the peacekeepers hopefully won't think she's reaching for something.  She nudges Lamina slightly, nodding at her arms, and Lamina puts her hands up quickly after that.  They stay sitting on the rock, watching the peacekeepers sweep the area with their guns, keeping their heads on a swivel. 

  They cross the enclosure, one of them directing two of the others.  She assumes he's some sort of commander.  

  "Take the body."  The commander says, standing near the bars and looking around the area with a general look of disgust. The two soldiers swing their guns over their shoulders, then reach down and each take an arm, beginning to drag the body off back towards the door of the enclosure. The commander's eyes land on her in his sweep of the enclosure, and he seems to think of something while he keeps his eyes on her. 

  "And take the broken glass away,"  He continues, nodding to another peacekeeper, who quickly does as he's told. "I don't want the Hunter getting any ideas."  He speaks to the peacekeeper but looks directly at her.  In turn, she levels her glare to stare dead at him. 

  Truthfully, the thought of taking one of the pieces of broken glass and stowing it away in her skirt somewhere had crossed her mind more than once in the last half hour.  But what would she do with it?  Slit her own throat? Kill another tribute?  Kill a peacekeeper with it, or her mentor? 

  No.  Realistically, there was little she could do with a piece of glass in her present situation.  But still.  Something about the commander being scared enough of her abilities to have tiny little pieces of glass taken away... it's satisfying.  Gives her a sense of pride, even.  She doesn't want the other tributes scared of her, but she loves the fact that the peacekeepers are. 

  When the peacekeepers finally leave the enclosure, doing one final sweep of the area, night is falling.  Somewhere beyond the buildings and bars of the enclosure, the sun is setting.  Sylvia stays sitting on the rock even though Lamina has long since calmed down.  She remembers the sunsets in the desert, the prettiest ones she'd seen throughout her life.  Out in the desert, there's nothing to block the sky.  No buildings, no tall mountains, no trees.  Something about it was freeing, being able to see the expanse of the land all the way to the horizon.  The only thing to possibly block it were small desert mountains, but even those were short in comparison to some of the other districts.  

  She looks up, catching the fading colors of the sunset.  Pink, purple, blue.  It's light, but it's nice enough.  Probably the nicest thing she's seen since coming to the capitol.  

  Abruptly, she remembers the sandwich in her pocket.  She had forgotten about it during the shooting, but suddenly, it's the only thing she wants.  It's easy to forget how hungry you are until you know food is nearby, and then the pain in your stomach becomes increasingly apparent.  

  Lamina sits next to her on the rock, and Treech sits across from her on another one.  Both of them have this distant, foreign look in their eyes, staring at the ground. But they look up abruptly at the quiet sound of the crinkling in her pocket.  Pulling out the sandwich and unwrapping it, she doesn't think twice about tearing the sandwich as evenly as she can into three pieces.  She puts one piece in her lap and offers the other two to Treech and Lamina. 

  In short, they look shocked. Lamina looks at her with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, looking between the food and Sylvia.  Treech looks suspicious, and confused.

  "Are you serious?"  He asks.  Not maliciously, just curious.  But he's definitely a little wary, as if he doesn't actually believe she's offering him food.    

  Sylvia sighs, holding it out to him.  "Treech, just take the fucking sandwich." 

  He does, looking a little scared but also grateful and maybe somewhat amused.  Lamina takes it without much hesitance when it's first offered to her.  She'd thought about giving her piece to Mizzen, or splitting it between him and Dill so they'd have something to eat.  But thankfully their own mentors had given them some food.  Capitol citizens had also been bringing small snacks throughout the day.  But Lamina's mentor had never showed up, and Treech's had but hadn't brought any food.       

  It's not a lot, but it's enough to stop the pain that hunger brings.  When she's done, she looks over the wrapper, thinking about any uses it could have, but ultimately leaves it on the ground.  She hates littering, but then again, this whole fucking city is one big piece of trash.  Or at least, the people are.  But whatever.  

  In the last few rays of sunlight they have, Mizzen walks over to where she's sitting with Lamina and Treech.  His steps are quick, and when Sylvia looks up from the bracelet she's toying with, she sees him looking slightly sheepish as he approaches.  She smiles easily, turning in her seat to look at him.  He stops about a foot from her, pursing his lips. 

  He looks back to Coral, and Sylvia sees her nod to him, before Mizzen looks back at her.  "Do you wanna play cards with me and Coral?" He asks quietly, eyes downcast slightly.  

  Sylvia tilts her head.  "Where'd you get cards from?"  She asks.

  He shrugs.  "One of the people gave us an old box."  She assumes he means one of the capitol citizens.  

  Nodding, she stands up and smiles slightly.  "What are we playin'?"

  Mizzen breaks out into a grin when she stands.  "Go-fish?"  He says uncertainly, like he's asking her opinion.  

  Sylvia nods, ruffling his hair and draping her arm over his shoulder.  "Sounds good."  She says, glancing back at Lamina.  She doesn't particularly want to leave her alone, but she knows she can't sit here all night.  

  Mizzen notices her turn around.  He leans around her to look at Lamina and Treech.  After a moment, he says, "Do you guys wanna play?" 

  Sylvia turns and grins at him, and he looks back at her as if to seek her approval of the invitation.  When he sees her grinning,  he gets more excited.  Turning back around, she sees Treech and Lamina looking at each other uncertainly.  Lamina looks at Sylvia, as if to ask if it's a good idea.  Sylvia just smiles, nodding her head in the direction of Coral.  

  Once Sylvia nods, Lamina stands up.  She hesitates only slightly before walking after Mizzen and Sylvia, Treech following behind her. 

  When they get to where Coral sits on the ground, roughly shuffling a pack of old, worn playing cards, Tanner's also sitting there.  She takes her arm off of Mizzen's shoulder, and he quickly goes to sit next to Coral, reaching for some of the cards before she's even done shuffling them.  Tanner nods at Sylvia, and motions for her to sit next to him. 

  Sylvia laughs, "No, you're a goddamn cheat." She says, pointing a finger at him as she remains standing. 

  Tanner smirks, leaning forward.  "Now, why would you think that?"  He drawls sarcastically.  

  Sylvia rolls her eyes, "I've seen you play three-card-monte.  I don't trust you with cards farther than I can throw you."  She sits down next to Mizzen instead, across the circle from Tanner. Lamina is quick to sit next to Sylvia, with Treech on her other side.  Admittedly, she could probably throw Tanner.  He seems lanky enough and she knows she's strong enough to do it, but she doesn't say that.   

  Tanner chuckles quietly to himself, but doesn't deny it.  His lack of denial makes Coral turn, having been listening to the banter, and raise an eyebrow at him.  Sylvia laughs slightly when Coral moves slightly closer to Mizzen and keeps shuffling cards.  

  After a minute or so, Coral starts handing out the cards to the six of them, her hands moving quickly as she counts under her breath.  When everyone gets seven, she places the rest of the cards in a small pile in the middle of them.  

  For the next twenty or so minutes, Sylvia feels like she can forget the situation they're in.  There's no fighting, no yelling, not even really any fear.  Mizzen looks like an actual little kid and the rest of them are smiling pretty frequently.  Even Lamina, who had seemed to still be in shock from the earlier events of the day, was smiling and laughing along with the rest of them.  Mizzen wins the first round, which he gloats about and stands up to do a mock bow, making a speech about how he'd like to thank district four and the sailors for teaching him how to play so well.  Then Treech wins the second round.  They're only a few minutes into a third round of go fish when Sylvia hears footsteps behind her. 

  Turning around, she sees Dill a few feet away from her.  A little farther behind Dill, Reaper leans against a tree, seemingly keeping an eye on the girl.  

  Dill's looking at the group, going up on her tip toes slightly to be able to see what they're doing.  The water bottle Sylvia gave her earlier is still clutched in her hand.  Dill looks down and sees Sylvia watching her.  The girl's face flushes, and she looks slightly nervous.  

  Sylvia just smiles at her.  "You wanna play?" Sylvia asks, holding up the cards so the others playing can't see.  Dill looks nervous for a second, but then nods slightly.  Sylvia grins, nodding.  She pats the ground beside her, in between her and Mizzen.  "You can play with me.  Help me beat Mizzen and Tanner."  

  An offended "hey!" comes from both boys, but it only serves to make Sylvia chuckle. Dill smiles and walks over, sitting on the ground slightly behind and next to Sylvia.  She shows her the cards they have, and has Dill look them over for a moment while Lamina takes her turn.  

  Dill seems to be a good luck charm, because it's the first round that Sylvia wins.  Upon winning, she grins and shoots a face at Tanner, who's rolling his eyes.  Treech groans, rolling his eyes, but has a smirk playing at his face.  Mizzen sighs and falls onto his back dramatically, causing the cards in his hands to fall across his chest and face.  

  Coral cracks a smile at the sight, and Sylvia laughs slightly.  Dill sits behind her, laughing at Mizzen.  When he sits up, the cards fall into his lap and across the ground, scattering.  

  "Here,"  Sylvia says, motioning for Mizzen, "You wanna see a card trick?"  She asks, trying to cheer him up even though he's not actually upset.  But at the prospect of a card trick, a grin crosses his face and he nods.  He gathers his cards and hands them to her.  

  She doesn't need the whole deck for the trick, so she lets the others keep their cards. She moves back slightly so that they can all see, having seen the looks of interest on their faces.  Shuffling the cards for a few moments, she puts them all in a neat pile in her hand.  She picks up the top two cards, though she's careful to make it look like she only picks up one.  

  "Okay, memorize this card."  She says, showing him the card.  Mizzen squints at it for a moment, the nods.  She turns the card to show Dill, and then shows it to the others.  "Now watch."  She flips it back over inconspicuously, passes it over the top of the deck, and then holds just the top one out of the two she picked.  It's an easy trick, just one of those trick-of-the-eye things, but she always finds people's reactions amusing.  

  She makes a show of tucking the card into the very middle of the deck, showing the others to make sure they see it.  And then she takes the card off the top of the pile, the one that Mizzen and the others had seen, and the same one they think they just saw her put in the middle of the deck.  Essentially, the trick is that she makes it seem the card was magically transported from the middle of the deck to the top.  Of course, it's just skill and quick fingers.  

  Mizzen's jaw drops, looking at her with wide eyes.  She grins at his reaction and shows Dill, who gasps and laughs, and then she shows the others.  They're all impressed to some degree, but she especially takes joy in the widening of Lamina's eyes and the small, amused smile that passes over the red head's face.  

  "How did you do that?"  Mizzen demands, eyebrows furrowing as he holds out his hand.  Sylvia chuckles and hands him the cards that are in her hand, watching as he looks through them.  Obviously, he's trying to figure out how she did her trick.

  "Just a card trick."  She answers, "Want me to teach you?"  

  He nods furiously, and she also sees Dill looking on in interest.  She takes the cards back, then takes a few minutes to go slow and show them how to do the trick.  Mizzen lets out a long 'Ooohhh' when she reveals how she did the trick, and she smirks.  

  She gives the cards to Mizzen to try, and he makes a big show of pretending to be a magician doing a card trick.  

  The first time, he fails.  He seems disheartened, but when Sylvia encourages him to keep trying, he smiles and does it again.  This time, he gets it.  The rest of them clap good-naturedly, smiling at his excited expression.  He gives the cards to Dill to try.  She goes slower than he does, and though it takes her longer, she manages to get it on the first try.  

  The next few minutes go by with them all either playing card games or Sylvia teaching Dill and Mizzen how to do simple card tricks.  It carries on until the sun goes down and it becomes too dark to see.  The lights that line the zoo path outside the enclosure provide enough light for them to navigate, but not enough to see a card that well.  Coral packs up all the cards into the worn cardboard box they seemed to have come in, and then her and Mizzen go to the small area underneath the tree they seem to have claimed for themselves.  Mizzen turns around and waves at her one last time as she stands, and she smiles and waves back.  Dill smiles and thanks her, and then she goes off towards Reaper.  Which leaves her, Tanner, Treech, and Lamina to go back off towards the rocks they've been sitting at.  

  Her and Tanner go to their little area, near the side of the cage towards the back.  Tiredness seems to overtake both of them, from both the events of the day and the anxiety of whatever tomorrow will bring.  Tanner lays down on the ground, taking his hat off and placing it on his chest as he shifts, trying to get as comfortable as he can on the hard ground.  Sylvia follows his lead after a minute or two.  She takes her hat off, laying back on the ground and placing her hat over her face.  The zoo is brighter than she's used to, and her hat does at least a little bit to block out some of the light.  She inhales the scent of it, and for a moment, she can imagine she's back in district 10.  The smell of the sand and the wind is prominent, with an earthy musk that she could never quite place.  

  Eventually, the smell of it helps her drift off to sleep.

Notes:

anywayssss I am concocting a plan for the arena that may or may not involve an animal mutt other than the snakes..... but anyway

and yeah I did make myself giggle with the quick fingers comment

Chapter 8: the night sky

Sylvia only gets a few hours of sleep before an out of place sound wakes her up.  The silence the enclosure and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees is broken by the muffled sound of sobbing, followed by footsteps.  She opens her eyes, taking her hat off of her face and taking a few moments to really wake up. 

  Once she's coherent enough to pinpoint what's going on around her, she sits up and waits for her eyes to adjust to the dark.  The lights along the zoo path outside the enclosure are still on, and the peacekeepers that have taken up guarding them from outside are nowhere to be seen.  Maybe they were on a break, or maybe they were switching shifts.  

  Those details pale in comparison when she finds the source of the noise.  Off to the side, a few yards from her, Lamina sits on the ground underneath one of the trees.  Her knees are pulled up to her chest and her face is buried in them, shoulders shaking as she sobs quietly.  

  Sylvia's standing before she can think about it, leaving her hat near Tanner as she approaches Lamina.  She makes sure to start making noise with her feet once she gets close- an unnecessarily loud shuffling along the leaves that has Lamina looking up abruptly.  Sylvia's eyebrows furrow in worry as she kneels in front of the girl, her knees pressing into the ground through her skirt.  

  "Hey,"  She mutters softly, "What's goin' on?"  She keeps her voice soft, not wanting to scare Lamina or make her anxiety peak even more than it is.  Reaching forward, she moves to hold Lamina's wrists, pausing to make sure it's okay.  When the other girl makes no move to pull back, she gently grabs her wrists, rubbing her thumbs over Lamina's palms.  

  Lamina takes a moment, the tears streaming silently down her face as her lip trembles.  "I just-"  her hands move, grabbing onto Sylvia's hands and squeezing them like its her lifeline.  She sobs, her shoulders shaking as her whole head drops, "I don't wanna be here." She mutters helplessly, sobbing.  

  Sylvia releases a shaky breath, her whole demeanor changing.  She lets go of Lamina's hands, moving to sit directly next to the red head.  She wraps one of her arms around her waist, the other coming up to card through Lamina's hair as she cries.  As if on impulse, Lamina lets her head fall to Sylvia's shoulders, crying into her shawl.  Sylvia doesn't mind in the slightest, brushing her fingers through Lamina's auburn hair and rubbing her hand over her back.  

  "I know, I know." She mutters, because she can't really think of anything else to say.  None of them want to be here- none of them deserve to be here.  But unfortunately, they are.  And although Sylvia would do anything to make it otherwise, it doesn't change the fact that she can't.  There's nothing she can do except try and comfort Lamina as she sobs.

  Sylvia's always know she was empathetic.  It started with the tattoos of her kills, a sort of remembrance for them... an act of grievance, maybe.  It increased when she was reaped, her morals and empathy overriding her survival instincts.  But now, with Lamina crying into her shoulder, it feels like the other girl's sorrow is seeping into her bones, into her very person.  She feels tears in her eyes, and she's more surprised than not when a few of them streak down her cheeks.  She's quick to wipe them away with her thumb, then moving her hand back to Lamina's hair, trying to comfort her.  

  Part of her wants Lamina to win.  It's a big part, admittedly.  But then that would mean the other tributes dying.  It would mean sweet little Dill and Mizzen dying, and Tanner, and Treech, and Coral, and Reaper.  In the end, Sylvia doesn't want to think about it.  She doesn't want to consider it.  And a small, selfish part of her is glad that she's probably going to die early on so that she won't have to deal with any of that hurt or guilt.      

  She wishes they could all go home.  Some childlike part of her imagines someone coming and rescuing them.  Rebels taking out the peacekeepers and whisking them all away to some secret rebel base where they'll never have to worry about the capitol again.  She imagines them all living in a community where the games are just a bad memory and never spoken of again.  

  But she's not a kid.  She knows that won't happen.  She knows that they're all stuck here, and only one of them will leave alive.  If that.  

  She feels Lamina's arms wrap around her torso, clinging to her shawl as she hugs her and cries.  She hears one of the tributes shuffling somewhere in the enclosure, but they don't wake up.  Not that Sylvia would give a damn.  The tributes could all wake up, the peacekeepers could start shooting, another war could break out and Sylvia would not find it in herself to give a damn.  Not when Lamina was crying in her arms, clinging to her like it's the only thing she can think to do.  

  Sylvia can't tell if it's minutes or seconds or hours that pass by when Lamina's sobs turn to gasps, and then those turn to cries.  Until the crying stops, too, and Lamina just seems drained.  

  Sylvia keeps carding her fingers through her hair, brushing through the strands and carefully detangling any knots she finds.  She doesn't even realize she's doing it until Lamina moves her head back, sitting up.  Her arms unwrap from around Sylvia and she does her best to pretend that she doesn't miss the contact. She gets that weird feeling in her chest again- like she misses Lamina even though she's sitting right in front of her.    

  Lamina sniffles, reaching up and wiping her eyes.  "I'm sorry." She mutters, looking down and away from Sylvia as she wipes her cheeks with the back her hand.  

  Shaking her head, she shifts in her spot.  "It's okay.  Don't apologize."  She tries to tilt her head to meet Lamina's eyes.  "You're allowed to cry.  It's normal.  We're in a horrible fucking situation and we're all dealing with it differently."  She doesn't know exactly how to make Lamina believe her words, but she can only hope that she does. 

  Looking up, Lamina lets out a watery laugh.  She runs a hand under her nose, wiping her cheeks as she looks upwards, seemingly trying not to cry again.  "Yeah, I guess..."  She mutters. 

  There's a few beats of silence in which Sylvia just looks at Lamina.  The wind blows through the enclosure, rustling the leaves above them as the branches move.  The song of crickets cuts through the air, and there's a few sounds from animals in other enclosures that reach their ears, though Sylvia couldn't identify any of them even if she wanted to.  She's too focused on Lamina.  

  "Are you sure you're okay?"  Sylvia asks after a few seconds, worry taking over her again.  Her eyebrows furrow and she bites her lip, reaching up to fiddle with her necklace.  

  Lamina doesn't answer her at first.  She's quiet for a minute, eyes set on the ground as if she's deep in thought, her legs bent next to her.  When she does speak, it's a question.  "Do you think we have a chance?" 

  Sylvia pauses, her fingers stilling over her necklace as it lays flat against her skin.  Her eyebrows furrow even deeper and she looks up at Lamina.  She can only be talking about the games.  About winning them- surviving them. 

  Eventually Sylvia nods.  "I think you do."  

  Lamina's eyes move to her, and they lock gazes.  Lamina seems like she's looking for something on Sylvia's face.  What that thing is, Sylvia couldn't even begin to guess.  It could be a million things or it could be nothing.  

  Lamina shakes her head.  "I don't know if I can."  Sylvia sees the nervousness in her eyes, the worry in her face.  Looking down, she sees Lamina's hands in her lap as she picks at the skin around her thumbnail.  

  Sylvia's own hand tightens on her necklace.  Her eyes remain on Lamina's hands.  The skin she's picking at is beginning to bleed.  She can practically feel the emotions coming off of Lamina in waves- sorrow, dread, fear, nervousness... 

  Her own hands seem to stutter, pausing as she moves to grab one of her necklaces.  And then she makes the decision.  She takes her necklace off- the mountain lion tooth one- and holds it in her hands.  Leaning forward, she drapes it over Lamina's head until it's around her neck, then she moves Lamina's hair out from under the cord so it falls around her shoulders again.  Lamina looks down at it in slight shock, her hand coming up to rub against the curve of it with her thumb.     

  "The tooth came from a mountain lion."  Sylvia explains without being asked, nodding to the necklace.  "It was the first time I went to hunt something down in the desert.  It almost killed me, but it didn't.  It's good luck."  

  "I- Sylvia, I can't-" Lamina moves to take the necklace off, but Sylvia stops her by putting her own hands on top of hers.  

  "It's a gift," Sylvia assures, "I want you to have it.  Really.  It can only bring me so much luck when I'm planning on dying, anyway."  

  Lamina's hands pause, and then slowly, she lowers them down from her neck.  "Thank you."  She says quietly.  Sylvia smiles, nodding.  

  She moves to sit with her back against the tree, next to Lamina.  They're so close that Sylvia can feel the slight warmth coming off the other girl.  Their arms and legs are pressed together, so close that Sylvia can hear every breath Lamina takes.  She fights the urge to look at Lamina's face because she knows they're close enough that Lamina will be able to see her blush. 

  Instead, she looks out to the sky.  There's so much light pollution here that it seems like half the stars and constellations are missing, but she can still make out some of them.  One constellation in particular is still somewhat visible, and Sylvia smiles when she sees it.  Nudging Lamina gently with her arm, she points to the pattern of stars.  

  "You see the constellation out there?  The one right above that tall tree?"  She asks, glancing at Lamina quickly.  

  Her eyebrows furrow as she tries to see what constellation Sylvia is pointing out.  She points to one, but when Sylvia follows her finger, it's a different constellation.  Sylvia shakes her head and tries to reinstate where in the sky it is.  Lamina does her best, but after a second she shakes her head.  Sylvia sighs lightly.  She doesn't blame her, it's easy to miss. 

  She gently grabs Lamina's hand, guiding her pointer finger to where in the night sky the constellation sits.  After a moment of squinting, Lamina's eyes widen and she nods, looking at Sylvia.  

  Sylvia smiles and lets go of her hand, looking back out to the constellation.  "In the part of ten me and Tanner live in, we call it the ghost rider.  You can't tell now, but on really clear nights, it looks like a man riding a horse.  It goes hand in hand with one of the legends out in the desert."  

  Lamina's interest seems piqued.  Her eyebrows raise and she shifts, making Sylvia glance at her.  "What legend?"  She asks.  

  Sylvia leans her head back against the trunk of the tree, letting her arms rest on her knees.  "The legend goes that back in the old days- the days before Panem, when it was still the old country- any sinful cowboy who died out in the desert was punished.  They were cursed to ride up in the sky for eternity, on horses that breathe fire.  They were doomed to hunt down a herd of steers, always chasing but never catching them.  There were tales that when cowboys would go far out into the desert, the ghost riders would appear to them in the sky, warning them to not go down the same path they did."  She shrugs, tilting her head to look at Lamina.  "But it's all old cowboy legends."  

  Lamina smiles at her, not a hint of judgement behind her eyes.  "We have legends in seven, too."  She comments, pursing her lips.  "They say that in the woods beyond our fences, there's creatures that mimic human voices.  Says that they'll call your name, and when you turn, they hide behind the trees.  They keep getting closer and closer until you hear your name called right behind you, and by then it's too late."  A small, amused grin takes over Lamina's face as she speaks, and when she gets to the end, she shoots her hand out and grabs Sylvia's arm, trying to scare her. 

  To Lamina's credit, Sylvia does flinch slightly.  But then she laughs, "Well, quite a difference in stories." She jokes, hyperaware of the feeling of Lamina's hand on her arm.  She sighs deeply, trying to enjoy the feeling of the night air on her skin and Lamina's presence next to her.  There's nothing but silence for a few moments, during which Lamina doesn't remove her hand from Sylvia's arm.  

  "If we were in ten, I'd take you to the canyon at night to see it." She muses, referring to the constellation.  "It's nice.  You can look up and the entire night sky is visible for miles.  You can see every little star, every constellation."  

  Sylvia feels Lamina shift, and then a second later, Lamina places her head on her shoulder, still holding Sylvia's arm.  "I'd like that, I think."  Lamina hums in response, "In seven, there's a lake I'd take you to.  It's in the woods, between two mountains and bordered by the trees.  You can see the stars reflecting off the water at night, and the moon.  In the daytime, there's all kinds of birds singing and the mountains give shade from the sun."  

  Humming in response, Sylvia nods.  "That sounds nice."  She responds.  

  And it does sound nice.  For a moment, Sylvia imagines what life would have been like if it had gone differently.  They never would've met, for one.  But they would both be alive.  Lamina would go to the lake and probably marry whoever was lucky enough to catch her attention.  And Sylvia would either work until she died or become a mentor.  

  But they're both here in the enclosure, waiting to be dumped into an arena to fight to the death.  There will be no happy ending for Sylvia- just whatever comes after death.  But then again, a quick one is the best option that she has right now.  And Lamina would either die in the arena, too, or she would win and go on to live whatever life she wants.  

  "What's your favorite color?" Sylvia asks suddenly.  She realizes she doesn't know Lamina that well.  Doesn't know her favorite color, her favorite animal, what her job is, what her family's like...

  Lamina's head tilts on Sylvia's shoulder.  She's quiet for a moment, but doesn't question it.  "Blue, maybe.  Or green."  Lamina answers, "What about you?" 

  Sylvia shifts, careful not to move her left shoulder too much for fear of disturbing her.  "I like green, too.  And orange, but darker shades."  

  Lamina hums, nodding.  "What's... your favorite kind of weather?"  She asks slowly, and the question makes Sylvia laugh slightly. 

  "Weather?"  She repeats, looking down at Lamina where she rests on her shoulder.  The red head nods in confirmation, and Sylvia smirks, looking back up.  "Um... I like the few hours right before a storm hits in ten.  There's nothing blocking the sky so you can see the storm coming from miles and miles away.  They're big clouds, and usually you can see the rain and lightning coming from them.  The temperature cools and the wind picks up... gives us some shade from the sun for a while.  What about you?" 

  Lamina answers quick, like she's been thinking about this for a while.  "I like the day after it rains.  When you wake up in the morning and there's dew on the grass and you can smell the rain still.  Usually there's fog and the soil is damp, but not muddy." 

  Sylvia nods in understanding.  "I like the smell of rain."  She muses offhandedly, then asks another question. "You know I was a Hunter in ten.  What did you do?"  

  Shifting on her shoulder, Lamina tightens her grip on Sylvia's arm.  "I was a high-rigger.  Mostly cause I was a good climber.  I climb the trees and cut the branches off, then the trunk." She explains.  

  Sylvia nods.  "So you have an advantage then."  She points out, trying to make her less nervous about the games, "With the axe."  

  Lamina doesn't respond for a few moments.  She feels Lamina's hand move from her arm down to her hand, squeezing tightly.  "Yeah... I guess."  But she doesn't sound convinced.  

  They spend much of the rest of the night talking, finding out more about each other.  Lamina's favorite food is apples.  Anything with apples, she says.  Sylvia's favorite food is prickly pears, which she explains to Lamina are fruits that grow on some kinds of cactus.  Lamina likes to read and swim in the lake near her district, and Sylvia likes to draw and go riding out to the canyon.  They're both somewhat superstitious and although they know the legends and folk tales in their districts are generally made up, they still reserve a little bit of thought that there may be a bit of truth to them.  

  At some point, Lamina asks Sylvia about her kills, and she mentions her tattoos and brand to the red head.  

  "Do you wanna see 'em?" She asks, the words slipping from her lips before she can even think about them.  She pauses, slightly surprised with herself.  Generally, you only show your brand to someone you consider special or especially close to you- family, usually, or a loved one, or maybe a friend you specifically hold dear.  

  She tells herself she's only showing Lamina because she knows she won't live for too much longer, and the only people who see the tattoos after will be the people who take her body away.  But even as she tells herself that, she doesn't believe it.  There's a reason she's showing Lamina her tattoos and her brand and it's not because she's dying.  She hates to admit it, but there's something special about Lamina.  Something that makes her tell Lamina all this stuff about herself that she's never even really mentioned to people before.  

  Lamina's head lifts from her shoulder, her eyebrows raised in surprise.  "Really?"  She asks, as if to make sure she heard Sylvia right.  Apparently, the significance of a Hunter showing someone their brand is known throughout the rest of the districts.  Or at least, Lamina knows.  Maybe Tanner told her.  She's not sure.  Either way, she nods in confirmation.  "Okay, then."  Lamina answers, letting go of her hand and backing up slightly.  

  As Sylvia unties the cord that's around her waist, keeping her shawl from moving, she realizes that she's never shown anyone her brand.  The only person to see it was Magnus because he was the one that gave it to her.  But other than him, there was no one else.  No hunters, no friends... nobody except Lamina. 

  She puts her shawl on her lap, leaving her in her leather tank top.  She turns so her back is facing Lamina.  Turning her head, she points with her left hand to her brand.  "Got it when I was twelve.  Rattlesnake got into the horse stable, so I took a rock and killed it."  She looks up, eyes set on Lamina's face.  

  Lamina looks at the brand intently, leaning forward to see it better.  She's got this look of awe on her face that Sylvia knows will be stuck in her head for the rest of her life. Lamina reaches a hand forward, almost on impulse, and then abruptly stops herself.  Looking up to Sylvia, she asks, "Can I touch it?" 

  Sylvia's response is immediate.  She nods, and her breath hitches slightly as Lamina reaches her hand forward.  Her fingers run carefully over the brand, tracing over the design of raised skin.  Her touch sends a jolt through Sylvia's body, and she finds herself glancing over Lamina's face.  She watches her eyes move from her brand, then over to the back of her left shoulder, where her eyebrows furrow.  Her hand moves to drift over an old scar, fingers moving over it carefully as if she's scared she'll hurt Sylvia if she presses too hard.  

  "What happened here?"  She asks quietly, glancing up momentarily at Sylvia's face before looking back down to the scar.  

  "Coyote."  Sylvia answers, looking down at the scar and then back up to Lamina.  

  She's got nice eyes, Sylvia thinks.  She didn't think she ever had a thing for brown eyes, but... here she is.  

  Lamina's gaze moves across her back, and suddenly Sylvia becomes all the more aware of her posture.  She straightens her back more than it already is and feels Lamina's hand move to her left arm.  "What kinda animal is this?"  Lamina asks.

  "It's a bob cat."     

  The red head girl nods, eyes switching to the back of Sylvia's right arm.  "And this one?"  

  "Mountain lion."  Sylvia responds, not even having to look at it.  She finds that she can't look away from Lamina's face- her big brown eyes, the slope of her nose, her high cheekbones.  

  Seriously.  Something was seriously wrong with her.  

  Sylvia turns around, shifting on the ground so she's facing Lamina fully instead of having her back to her.  She holds her arms out so Lamina can look at the other tattoos.  She's only ever considered her tattoos to be in memoriam for the animals she's killed, but now she's thinking they're a source of pride.  She likes the smile that spreads across Lamina's face, the look of awe and intrigue, the way she's looking over every tattoo as if it's the most interesting thing she's seen in her life.  

  And yeah, maybe she likes the feeling of Lamina's fingers on her arm.  But that's nobodies business.  

  Sylvia identifies the snake tattoo on her forearm, and folds the top of her skirt down just slightly to show her the coyote tattoo on her hip while she pretends she's not blushing.  And then Lamina looks at the moon tattoo on her right bicep.  Lamina's eyebrows furrow.  "What about this one?"  She inquires.  

  She looks down at it and smiles.  "My nickname among the Hunters was Moony."  She explains, watching Lamina's fingers dance over the ink engrained in her skin.  "I used to watch the moon a lot.  And the stars.  It just kind of stuck."  

  Lamina nods, a small smile on her lips.  Sylvia shows her her other scars, a new point of pride.  They represent all the things that could have killed her, but didn't. 

  And Lamina seems to be enthralled by them.  Asking about the scars, the animals, the tattoos.  Sylvia finds herself talking more about her hunts with Lamina than she has with anyone else, telling her all the details and smiling when Lamina reacts.  

  The night goes on, and only when Sylvia hears one of the other tributes shifting in their sleep does she realize that they should go to bed, too.  She doesn't want to- she wishes she could spend the night talking away with Lamina and learning everything there is to know about her- but she knows realistically they'll need the rest for whatever tomorrow brings.  

  When they go back to their own areas, Sylvia sends Lamina a soft smile before she puts her shawl back on, tipping her hat back over her face and goes to sleep.  Lamina smiles back at her, and it's the only thing she can stand to think of as she goes to sleep again.

Notes:

I made a playlist for funsies of songs that I think represent Sylvia or songs she'd listen to and the whole playlist is basically Lana del Rey and Johnny cash

anyone im still plotting things..... for..... the arena....

Chapter 9: the meetings

The next morning, Sylvia wakes up with the sun.  Tanner lies beside her, shifting around as he slowly starts to wake up.  She sits up, placing her hat back on her head firmly.  Taking a moment, she stretches her arms, looking around the enclosure.  

  Her eyes land on the dark spot of soil near the front of the enclosure- the spot where the tribute girl was shot yesterday.  Sylvia realizes she still doesn't know her name.  She feels a small bout of guilt for that. 

  Over the course of the next half hour or so, the other tributes wake up.  Sylvia sits leaning against a rock with not much to do other than look around.  The peacekeepers are back outside the enclosure, their backs to the bars as they keep their guns close.  She feels herself glaring at them and does nothing to fix that.  Part of her hopes they turn around and see her glaring, but unfortunately, they remain facing away.  She keeps one of her legs up and the other one stretched out in front of her, fiddling with her rings.  She chews absentmindedly on a piece of straw, her hat tipped low on her head.  As far as the situation goes, the morning is peaceful. 

  The sound of soft footsteps catches her attention, and she looks up.  The glare from before immediately melts off her face when she sees Lamina standing over her, smiling softly.  

  "Hi."  Sylvia says, a smile overtaking her face as she stands up.  "How you feelin'?" 

  Lamina smiles, and Sylvia doesn't miss the fact that Lamina seems to be fiddling with the necklace she gave her.  "Good."  She says, voice low as she nods.  "I'm-"

  The sound of her voice is cut off by a loud bang.  Sylvia spins around, eyes flickering to the back door that's been shoved open.  

  As soon as Sylvia sees the peacekeepers moving into the enclosure, she steps in front of Lamina, reaching her hand back to keep her behind her.  Lamina gasps slightly, hand shooting to hold Sylvia's as the peacekeepers raise their guns.  If any other tributes were still asleep, they're definitely awake now. 

  Sylvia sees Coral and Mizzen move back a few steps, and Tanner glances back to look at her.  She glances between him and the peacekeepers.  The commander from yesterday- the one who had been bossing the other peacekeepers around- steps out of the door, arms behind his back as he looks around.  

  After a few moments, he nods to the other peacekeepers.  Instantly, they all start moving around the enclosure, rounding up tributes and dragging them towards the door.  Sylvia's jaw tightens, and she squeezes Lamina's hand.  The only thing she knows for certain is that they're not going into the games themselves yet- she had overheard one of the other mentors talking to their tribute.  

  Turning, she nods at Lamina.  "It's okay."  She says, smiling slightly to try and comfort her.  Then a peacekeeper is grabbing her arm hard enough to leave a bruise, while another peacekeeper grabs her wrists.  

  She doesn't struggle, but she certainly doesn't make the job of getting the cuffs on her an easy one.  Eventually, though, the cuffs are locked around her wrists with a little less than a foot of chain attaching them together.  Looking around, she finds herself a little amused at the fact that she's the only tribute with two peacekeepers bringing her in.  

  As the peacekeepers pull her towards the back door, she throws a shit-eating smirk to the commander.  Between him having them pick up the glass from yesterday, and assigning two peacekeepers to her today, there's no doubt about it.  He's definitely scared of her.  Or worried, at the least.  And she finds it even funnier that when she smirks at him, his eyes widen ever-so-slightly.  She grins, running her tongue over her teeth as the peacekeepers lead her to a truck similar to the one they had ridden in from the train station to the enclosure.  

  One of the peacekeepers gets especially rough, tugging her forward so hard her shoulder hurts, and she grits her teeth.  

  "Don't do that!"  Someone yells from behind her, and she turns to see Mizzen.  He's being led forward by his own peacekeeper, and he's got this mean little glare on his face as he narrows his eyes at the two peacekeepers dragging her forward.  Neither of the peacekeepers react, but she smiles softly at him.  Her heart is kinda warmed by the fact that he stands up for her.    

  'It's okay' she mouths to Mizzen, turning back around as they reach the truck.  There's already a few tributes in there, and her eyes immediately scan the area for Lamina.  She catches sight of her in the far corner, sitting on a bench.  The peacekeepers shove her forward, and she throws one last glare at them as she climbs into the truck.  Making a beeline for Lamina, she takes the seat next to her. 

  "You alright?"  She asks, bringing one hand up to rest on Lamina's arm.  She leans forward as she catches the look on the red head's face. 

  Lamina nods, but doesn't speak.  Sylvia's grown accustomed enough to it to know that Lamina's trying not to cry.  

  "Okay."  She says, eyebrows pursing as she rubs her hand up and down Lamina's arm.   The last thing she wants is for Lamina to cry.  

  She continues to rub Lamina's arm, even as she feels someone sit on her other side.  She turns and sees Mizzen, looking at her with furrowed eyebrows.  Coral sits on his other side, and though she doesn't look as worried for her as he is, she's still looking Sylvia over with something close to concern.  

  Looking down, Sylvia notes the way he's fiddling with his fingers.  He tugs at them, resulting in the cuffs on his wrist knocking together slightly.  She hates it.  Not his fidgeting, but the fact that the capitol is chaining them up like animals.    

  "Is your shoulder okay?"  His voice is timid when he asks.  His eyes look pointedly from her face, to her shoulder, then back again.  

  She smiles at him and nods, one hand continuing to rub Lamina's arm.  "I'm okay, hun.  He just tugged a little too hard, is all."  The last thing she wants is Mizzen worrying about her.  That shouldn't be his job, and her shoulder shouldn't be another thing weighing down on his mind as the games approach.   

  Looking over her, his eyebrows furrow again, but he nods.  She smiles at him as the doors shut and the truck starts moving.  Sylvia looks around the truck, glancing over the faces of the tributes as she feels Lamina's arm shake underneath her hand.  The truck is darker now that the door has shut, the only light coming from slits in the walls towards the ceiling.  

  As they drive, Sylvia feels a hesitant weight falling onto her shoulder.  She looks to her left and sees Coral talking to Tanner a few feet away.  And then she looks down and sees Mizzen's head resting on her shoulder.  He's not asleep- she can still see him fiddling with his fingers- but he's clearly nervous.  His body is tense, like he's waiting for her to tell him to get off.  Instead, she smiles slightly, even though he can't see it, and rests her chin on top of his head as she continues to look around the truck.  When she does, she feels the tension leave his body, and he lets his head fully rest on her shoulder.  

  A few minutes later, the truck comes to a stop.  She lifts her chin off Mizzen, turning and trying to see out the slits in the wall of the truck.  Unfortunately, she sees nothing due to the angle of the metal.  

  Mizzen lifts his head off her shoulder as the doors open, and Sylvia turns to see a group of peacekeepers, as well as a man holding a piece of paper.  Sylvia presses her thumb against Lamina's arm, giving her one last comforting look before the man starts speaking, attracting all their attention.  

  "You will exit the truck when your name is called!"  The man announces.  His tone leaves no room for argument.  Sylvia listens as he starts calling off names, the pattern going from boy to girl and then back again.  She realizes easily enough they're being lined up according to district.  

  When he calls Mizzen and Coral's names, the boy turns to look at her, an almost invisible look of worry on his face.  She smiles at him and squeezes his hand for a second, then nods to the doors.  Her assurance seems to be enough for him to relax, and he follows Coral out of the truck, sticking close by the district four girl.  

  A few moments later, he gets to the district six kids.  Sylvia's been counting pairs of names to discern when her and Tanner will be called, and it seems Lamina was doing the same.  When the red head realizes he's called the names of the tributes for the district before hers, she tenses up.  

  Sylvia faces her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it.  "It's alright."  Sylvia says, leaning forward as Lamina turns her head up to look her in the eyes, "I'll find you after, yeah?"  

  Lamina's silent for a moment, brown eyes flickering across Sylvia's face.  But then she nods, squeezing Sylvia's hand back.  And then her name is called, and she lets go of her hand.  The loss of the touch seems to send a chill through Sylvia's body, like the absence of Lamina has sucked all the warmth out of her.  

  She watches Lamina and Treech exit the truck, and only a few moments go by before her and Tanner's names are called.  When the man calls her name, she watches as his eyebrows furrow-as if he's reading something on the paper next to her name- and then he turns and nods to the peacekeepers.  

  Again, she gets two peacekeepers to escort her.  And again, she smirks at how scared these people are of the possibility that she'll do something.  At least this time, neither of the peacekeepers grab her.  They just stand behind her, holding their guns as they guide her to stand in line behind the others.  That's when she gets her first view of where they are.   

  A grand building lined in columns, flying the Panem flag on several different spots of the huge walls.  There's a big staircase in front of them, and the pavement they're standing on is neatly lined cobblestones.  Turning around, Sylvia sees that there's a large yard of some sort behind them, bordered and lined by gravel roads and walking paths. 

  It's not hard to guess that this is the Academy.  The place where their mentors are students at.  

  She already hates it. 

  The peacekeepers lead them to a large circular room somewhere deep in the building.  The room is one of the biggest she's ever seen- large arched windows, huge statues of unknown figures sitting on thrones, and several doorways set into the walls all around.  In the middle of the room is a small circular wall that takes up almost the entire middle space.  Sylvia can't tell if it's a fountain, or maybe a hole that leads to the floor below.  And she doesn't have a chance to find out before the peacekeepers are bringing her to one of the many small tables set around the room in a large circle.  

  She's pushed somewhat roughly into the chair, and notes that her table is right in front of the entrance they've come in through.  She glares at the peacekeepers, but doesn't outrightly struggle when they attach the chain to an anchor point on the table, making her unable to move her hands around more than a foot in any direction.  

  Tanner is put at the table to her left, and one of the unfamiliar tributes is put at the table to her right.  Tanner glances at her, and they share a look.  On the other side of Tanner, Sylvia hears Dill cough harshly.  She feels her heart melt a little at the sound, and as much as she hates her mentor, part of her is hoping he'll bring more water so she can give it to Dill.  Or, even better, if Dill's own mentor brings her water.  Either way, it's clear that the girl needs it.  

  Turning around slightly in her chair, her eyes scan for Lamina.  She catches sight of the familiar auburn hair on the other side of the circular wall, and she breathes a small sigh of relief.  She turns in the other direction, and sees Mizzen and Coral on another side of the wall.  Good.  At least they're all in the same room. 

  They all sit there for what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, before more footsteps catch her attention.  She looks up at the doorway directly in front of her, and almost immediately sees a mass of blood red uniforms.  The color is starting to get on her nerves.  

  The peacekeepers leave the room, replaced by the mentors.  She watches them with her eyes, following the paths they take to the other tables, until she sees a figure stop right in front of her own table.  

  Florus Friend stands next to the chair on the other side of the table, a smile on his face.  It's the same smile he wore when he came to the enclosure, the one that she can tell usually gets him his way.  But when all she does is give him a deadpan expression, she sees the whole charming facade dropped for a moment.  

  And then another man walks in, this one dressed in some kind of uniform with a black robe.  Her eyes narrow, scrambling through her mind as she tries to figure out who he is.  By the way all the mentors turn at his presence and focus their attention on him, she assumes he's important.  Definitely someone they study under, so it's either a teacher or the Dean.  The air of importance around him suggests the latter.  

  "In spite of yesterday's tragic events... our President has decided that the Games must go on."  The man announces, his voice echoing through the room.  Sylvia glances around, noting the way all the mentors listen with rapt attention.  "Show everyone the capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror."  

  Sylvia rolls her eyes at that.  'Acts of terror'.  He says it as if they're rebels and they had bombed an entire city into oblivion.  No.  There had just been a hungry girl being teased with the one thing she desired most, and she had snapped.  There's no terror here.  There's only fear.  Just scared kids trying to survive.  

  "To which end, Dr. Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon, with your tributes."  The man continues, shoving his hands in the pockets of his robes as he looks around lazily at all of them, as if he'd rather be anywhere else.  What an asshole.  "Later this evening, there will be a special televised presentation of each tribute to our audience to... get to know them.  You will have an hour to discuss strategy."  He finishes, nodding once to the room.  He turns, but doesn't walk off.  From where Sylvia sits, she catches sight of him pouring something out of a little glass vial into his mouth.  

  None of the mentors move, and Sylvia's eyes flicker from the man to the paper set out on the table in front of her.  It's facing away from her, but it looks like some sort of interview form.  

  The man sighs.  "You may begin."  He says exasperatedly without turning around, and then walks out of the room.  Only when he's gone do the mentors make any move at all.

  Sylvia moves her gaze to Florus Friend as he pulls out the chair, carefully taking a seat across from her.  Her gaze levels to his, keeping eye contact as much as she can.  Apparently eye contact isn't something they teach in the capitol, or maybe he's just scared of her.  He only lasts a few seconds before he's looking away, seeming somewhat flushed.  

  "I've thought about it..."  Florus starts, interlocking his fingers over the table.  "I know you won't have a problem with strategy inside the arena.  We don't need to go over plans or tactics or anything."  

  Wow, good to know he's really trying here, she thinks sarcastically. 

  "What I want to focus on is getting you sponsors.  Getting the public to like you."  He continues, a smirk taking over his face.  Sylvia watches him, leveling her gaze as she lets her hands come up to rest on the table.  She takes satisfaction in the way his gaze immediately shoots to the small movement, his eyes growing wary as he stutters for a second.  "Lots of people like you.  They think you're interesting.  You've got quite the reputation from your job.  Not to mention, I know lots of people who are interested in you for your looks."

  When he says that, she raises her eyebrow.  It's the first hint of any kind of emotion she's shown since he's started talking.  He either doesn't notice or doesn't care, as he just keeps on talking. 

  "I'm thinking during the interview tonight, we have you show the audience your brand, and tattoos-"  

  "No."  She says forcefully, louder than she intended, in a way that has him flinching slightly.  Her fists clench slightly, not enough for him to notice, but enough that she can feel her fingernails digging into her palms.  She doesn't offer anything other than that one word.  

  Maybe he knows the significance of showing someone a brand.  Maybe he doesn't.  She's not sure what one is worse.  But either way, she doesn't need to explain herself to him.  

  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tanner turn to glance at her momentarily when she speaks.  

  Florus Friend sighs, a frown taking over his face.  If she were to guess, she'd even say he looks angry.  Like he's exasperated with her.  The thought gives her some semblance of satisfaction.  He reaches up, pinching the bridge of his nose.  "We'll come back to that."  He finally says, moving to grab the paper instead.  She only just now realizes it's actually a packet of some sort.  She watches with narrowed eyes as he flips through a couple pages before stopping on one and clicking open his pen.  

  His eyes flicker over the questions on the top of the page, muttering to himself.  "Name, age, occupation..."  He scribbles down answers to those, not consulting her, which is just fine by Sylvia.  It's all basic information anyway, and the less she has to speak to him, the better.  

  But then he looks up, which she assumes is when he reaches more in-depth questions.  "Do you have any surviving family?"  He asks, and all she does is raise an eyebrow.  His eyes narrow in confusion, and she doesn't say anything to help him solve it.  She can practically see the gears turning in his head before his eyes widen slightly in realization, and he flushes.  "Oh, right.  Hunters are orphans."  He mutters, scribbling down on the paper again.  What a goddamn idiot.  Then he looks back up.  "Any significant other or spouse?" 

  Sylvia doesn't answer.  The less he knows about her, the more comfortable she is.  She doesn't want to give away information about her personal life to this kid who couldn't care less if she lives or dies. Especially if he only cares about her for recognition, or that stupid scholarship prize thing that she's heard other people muttering about.  But she does glance back over her shoulder to where Lamina is, almost on impulse.  She feels her lips pulling into a frown when she sees Lamina's head resting on her hands, shoulders shaking slightly as she cries. 

  Sylvia wants nothing more than to get up and comfort her.  But she can't, so she settles for resuming her glare and turning back around to face Florus Friend.    

  After a minute of her glaring, he seems to realize she won't answer.  Sighing, he moves onto the next question.  "Any significant past injuries?"  

  Again, she doesn't answer.  And again, he waits a minute before inevitably sighing and moving onto the next question.  This goes on like a cycle for a while, before two of the mentors get called out of the room to go somewhere else- Lucy Grey's mentor and Reaper's mentor.   A little bit after that, peacekeepers move back into the room, and a woman who Sylvia assumes to be a teacher walks in and collects the papers.  

  Two peacekeepers come over as Florus Friend stands up, him and the other mentors being guided away by the teacher.  Once all the mentors are gone, the peacekeepers unshackle her and the other tributes from the tables.  She glances at Tanner as she stands up, making sure he's alright.  Then they're all being guided back through the building and outside again, to another truck.     

  She manages to send one last glare in the direction of Florus Friend before she's being shoved into the back of the truck. 

Notes:

dont worry guys the arena chapters aren't gonna be bad (they're gonna be so upsetting and heart wrenching y'all should be very worried bc im a liar I've been known to lie I love lying)

Chapter 10: the arena

In the short time she's been in the capitol, Sylvia's quickly come to realize that she does not like being in the back of a transport truck.  Between the fact that they're shoved together like sardines, and the fact that there's little light, and they're constantly being jostled around in the space, she's quickly grown to hate it. 

  However, she hates it just a little bit less when Lamina is there.  Which she has been for the majority of the time.  Actually, come to think of it, Sylvia's never not sat next to Lamina. 

  Funny how that works out. 

  Like now, Lamina's hand is in Sylvia's, their fingers interlocked as Lamina squeezes her palm.  The interviews with their mentors had not gone well with most of the tributes, but Sylvia thinks it went especially bad for Lamina.  Other than her mentor being somewhat of an asshole who only cares about himself (most of the mentors), he hadn't even bothered to come visit Lamina in the enclosure.  That fact didn't bother Lamina, but it bothered Sylvia.  

  So she holds Lamina's hand in the back of the transport truck, fighting the urge to reach up and wipe away Lamina's tears.  It's an easy urge to fight, especially while she's distracted with thoughts of her own mentor.  

  Tanner seems to notice this.  The angry look on her face and the glare she has aimed at the floor probably give it away.  It could also be the fact that Tanner was at the table next to her. 

  "Your mentor any good?  I know you didn't answer many of his questions."  Tanner asks, kicking her leg slightly with the toe of his booth to get her attention.  The action is innocent, a way to annoy her and amuse her at the same time while also getting her attention.  Mizzen sits on her other side, watching the interaction curiously.    

  Sylvia looks up and scoffs.  "He's a fuckin' imbecile, is what he is." She spits out, eyes narrowing.  "He wants me to show the audience my brand during the interviews."  When she says it, she feels Lamina's hand squeeze hers.  

  She watches her district partner's eyebrows raise, his good eye widening slightly.  "Oh."  He says.  He sounds surprised.  "Is that... his only plan?"  Now Tanner sounds annoyed with Florus Friend, and the fact makes her smirk a little bit.  

  Sylvia rolls her eyes, leaning back against the wall and crossing one leg over another.  "Says he wants to get the audience to like me- get more sponsors.  Wants to use my looks to do it."  She scoffs, rolling her eyes.  "Apparently some of his little friends have a crush on me or somethin'."  

  From the other side of Mizzen, Coral lets out an amused chuckle.  Sylvia turns her head to look at the other girl and sees a smirk on her face.  "He sounds like an asshole."  Coral comments, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

  Nodding, Sylvia scoffs slightly and rolls her eyes.  Even the mention of her mentor is starting to give her a headache.  "He is.  Has no use whatsoever- one at all."  She feels herself squeezing Lamina's hand slightly as she speaks, looking for the sense of comfort the other girl's grip brings.   

  Glancing to Lamina, Sylvia sees her eyebrows are furrowed slightly, glancing over Sylvia with an expression she can't quite place.  She seems to sense her anger and annoyance- to some degree, at least.  Her thumb moves to run over Sylvia's knuckles, and then her head falls onto Sylvia's shoulder.    

  The simple contact makes her feel better.  The pain in her head seems to fade and the tension in her shoulders miraculously disappears.  Weird.  

  A small smile appears on her lips as she drops her head, letting her cheek rest on top of Lamina's head for a few moments.  She revels in the feeling of Lamina's hand in hers, their fingers interlocked.  She can feel Lamina's thumb brushing over her knuckles still, but when she looks down she also sees Lamina fiddling with one of the many rings that adorn Sylvia's hands.  She never understood what could be so special about physical touch- most of the touch in her life consisted of fights and training- but she's beginning to understand now.  She'd do a lot just to feel Lamina's hand in her own.  

  Her eyebrows furrow as that thought hits her.  She's never thought of someone that way.  Yes, Lamina is her friend.  Yes, she'd do a lot just to get Lamina to hold her hand.  Yes, she drops everything to comfort Lamina.  And yeah, maybe just the mere presence of the girl makes her happier, makes her whole day brighter.  And yes, at the first sign of danger or discomfort, Lamina is always the first person she looks to. 

  She'd thought it was just because she was her friend.  Having never had real friends her own age before, she wasn't exactly sure what came with a relationship like that.  But Tanner's her friend, and she definitely doesn't think of him the way she thinks of Lamina.  And yes, she feels protective over Mizzen and Dill, but again, it's different than the way she feels about Lamina.  

  She thinks back to the talk she's heard from other Hunters, to songs from the old country they play at night.  She thinks about everything she's ever heard about love.  Romantic love, in particular.  All she's ever heard from them- the fluttering in the chest, the impulse to protect them, the need to be around them, the constant thinking about them- it all makes her think of Lamina.  Every little bit of it.  Everything she's ever heard in her life about loving someone makes her think of Lamina.  

  If she ever allowed herself to think of a better future- one where they weren't in the games anymore- she would think about spending it with Lamina.  She'd get to hold her hand whenever she wanted, and they'd be able to tell each other about their days, and they'd cook together, and they could talk all about those stupid legends from their districts, and Sylvia would show Lamina the constellations far out in the desert.  And yes, she'd probably get a tattoo for Lamina.  And sue her if a part of her- how big that part is, she'll never say- maybe wants to be able to kiss Lamina. 

  But there's no better future.  The only future she has is the arena, and then death.  Hopefully a quick one.  

  The realization that she likes Lamina in a romantic way- maybe even loves her, if she's being bold- is something she accepts relatively easily.  It's not a difficult thing to come to terms with, and she's not upset about it.  What she is upset about is that fact that she'll never be able to tell her.  Never be able to do anything about the fact that she cares for Lamina in a romantic way.  There's no sense in telling Lamina how she feels when they'll be in the games in a day or so.  No sense in giving Lamina something else to think about when nothing will come of it, especially since Sylvia's very sure that Lamina doesn't feel the same way.  

  So she settles for holding her hand and comforting her as they sit in the back of the transport truck, and she pretends the tears in her eyes aren't there. 

  Fortunately, a few minutes later, the truck comes to a stop again.  This time, Sylvia doesn't bother trying to look out of the slots on the walls.  She already knows where they are.  

  The doors open and once again, the man calls them out by district.  Except this time, as they get out of the truck, the peacekeepers standing nearby take their cuffs off.  When Sylvia emerges from the truck, she sees the way the peacekeepers hesitate in taking her cuffs off.  She would have grinned in amusement, had she not known where they are.  

  The Arena stands tall in front of them, blocking out the sun and casting a deep shadow.  It feels symbolic, somehow, that the shadow of the arena overtakes them all.  But she doesn't think about that.  

  Two peacekeepers follow her as she gets into line behind Tanner, who glances back at her.  She smiles slightly at him, trying to be comforting.  He glances to the peacekeepers, then gives a small smile when he looks back at her.  

  The sound of another vehicle pulling up catches their attention.  Sylvia turns to see a very pristine bus, one very unlike the trucks they've been being transported in.  She's not surprised when the mentors step off the bus, their blood red uniforms a stark contrast in the environment.  

  She lets out a groan when Florus Friend emerges from the bus, turning and looking pointedly at the back of Tanner's head.  She can practically feel the headache coming on.  Tanner smirks at her obvious annoyance, but when he catches sight of her mentor approaching, his smirk quickly turns to a disapproving frown.  

  Florus Friend stands next to her, already speaking.  "So, we can scope out the inside of the arena and take the opportunity to have the cameras on you."  He points to her other side, and Sylvia breaks her staring contest with Tanner's hat to look at where he's pointing.  True to his word, a small camera crew stands nearby.  The sight makes Sylvia roll her eyes before she looks forward again.  

  Her headache continues to speak.  "You and the guy from district eleven- Reaper, I think- are at the top of the leaderboards so far.  You've already got sponsors and your odds are the highest there is."  He says excitedly.  He seems almost giddy.  It makes Sylvia want to punch him in the face.  

  When she doesn't respond to his comment, he seems to take the hint.  The giddiness on his face disappears as he adopts a kind of glare.  But he doesn't say anything, and before long, the line ahead of her is moving.  

  As they walk into the arena, she can't help the anger she feels.  The walls of the arena loom above her the closer she gets to the entrance, and when they get close enough, she starts to hear an automated voice every few seconds. 

'Enjoy the show'

'Enjoy the show'

'Enjoy the show'

   Her eyebrows furrow, and only when they step into the entryway that leads into the arena does she see what it is.  Turnstiles once used to control crowds, now used to corral children to their death.  Every time someone steps through, the voice rings out again, cutting through the silence and tension in the air.

  The darkness of the entryway is broken only by red lights on the wall, but that does little to help.  She watches Tanner and his mentor step through the turnstiles and listens to the voice ring out again.  And then it's her turn, the cold metal of the turnstile bar practically digging into her hip as she walks through it and the voice rings out, louder than before, practically echoing through her brain.  

  A few more steps, and the entryway opens up into the arena itself.  It's darker than she thought it would be, but then she looks around and sees that the dim light is reflecting off glass on the walls.  She figures they're windows, and they must be covered by something.  

  One of the other mentors- Coral's, she thinks- says something to the person holding the camera, but Sylvia doesn't pay too much attention to it.  Instead, she looks around the arena.  

  This is the place she's going to die.  Sometime tomorrow.  Soon enough her body will be sprawled on the very floor she's standing on, and after that it will be dragged out of the arena and cremated.  Her ashes will be shipped back to district ten and given to Magnus, her mentor, because he's the closest thing she has to family.  That's the way it's been for the past 10 years.  

  A loud bang diverts her attention away from her thoughts.  She turns and sees that the doors they walked through are now closed, and the only light comes from a dim one high above them on the ceiling.  

  And then a loud whirring fills the air, and all of them watch as some kind of metal curtain raises off the windows, slowly flooding the arena with light.  Just as she thought.  As the light spills in, she gets an actual look at the interior of the place- stands line the walls, which she imagines one housed crowds for some kind of entertainment.  There's the main set of doors they came in through, but there's also smaller doors periodically dotting the walls around the floor.  She's not sure where those ones lead, though.  

  An announcement sounds out, explaining they have 15 minutes to survey the space and make plans.  Florus Friend, thankfully, walks away from her towards some of the other mentors.  She spares him a single glance to make sure he's actually walked away, and the spot next to her is quickly filled by Tanner.  

  "Listen,"  He starts, making her turn towards him.  She can't help but notice that he sounds hesitant.  He glances around before he finally focuses on her.  "I know you said you don't plan on fighting.  But have you..."  He trails off, seemingly unable to figure out how to word his question. 

  "Changed my mind?"  She supplies, smiling sadly at him.  Reaching forward, she holds his forearm gently.  "No.  I'm sorry."  

  He glances down at her hand on his arm, then shakes his head lightly as if getting himself out of a stupor.  Nodding, he exhales.  "No, it's... it's okay. I just... you know.  I just wanted to ask.  Make sure."  

  She can't help but feel that the sentence isn't complete, and then she sees his eyes focus on something behind her.  Looking over her shoulder, she sees Coral and Mizzen looking pointedly in their direction.  The pieces click into place quickly, and she smiles softly as she turns back to look at Tanner.  

  "I'm glad you made an alliance."  She says genuinely.  "Really.  Just... be careful, y'know?"  She's not sure what exactly to say to him.  Thankfully, he smiles at her, nodding.  

  "Thanks."  He responds.  "I want you to know... I think you're really brave.  For what you're doing.  I don't think I could do it, but... you're a good person.  Truly.  I'm glad you were my district partner." 

  As much as she hates to admit it, his words strike something within her.  Her grip tightens on his arm, and she can feel the pinprick of tears about to fall.  She inhales shakily, glancing away as she collects herself.  She nods at him, and only when she's sure she won't cry does she look back up at him.  

  "I don't want anyone to die.  But... I hope you survive."  And it's the truth.  She hopes he survives.  She hopes they all do.  And more than anything, she hates that that won't happen.  There's only one victor in the games, after all.  

  He nods.  "Thank you." 

  Nodding her head towards Coral and Mizzen, she smirks slightly.  "You should go join them.  Make it clear y'all are in an alliance.  Could help with sponsors."  She suggests, making a point to ignore the slight shakiness in her voice.  

  Tanner opens his mouth to respond, then seems to think better of it.  He nods, and she gives his arm one last squeeze before she lets go.  She watches him as he walks away, turning his words over in her head. 

  'You're a good person.'

  Huffing, she forces her gaze away from the three of them.  She feels Mizzen looking at her, his eyebrows pursed.  She hopes he doesn't say anything to her.  If him or Coral ask her to be part of their alliance- which she's suspecting, based on the way they're whispering to Tanner and looking at her- she's not sure what she'll say.  She cares about Mizzen, she can admit that.  He's a sweet boy.  And she doesn't know how she'd ever explain to him that she plans on lying down and dying once the games start.  That she won't fight- not even a little bit.  She doesn't know if it would worry him, or discourage him.  But she doesn't want him worrying about her when he should be thinking about surviving.  

  A few moments go by before Coral's voice reaches her ears.  "Hey, lumberjack!" 

  She can only assume she's talking to Lamina or Treech.  Maybe both.  Her eyes move to Coral, following her gaze.  

  Treech looks up at her voice, weight shifting from one leg to another.  He turns around, looking to Lamina, who stands a few feet back. "Lamina."  He calls lightly, nodding his head in Coral's direction.

  She sees Lamina's eyebrows raise slightly, an unreadable expression in her eyes.  It almost looks like hope.  She doesn't miss the fact that Lamina glances at her, and then looks back to Treech as he starts to walk forward.  

  Lamina moves to follow him, but she doesn't have the chance to take a single step before Coral's voice calls out again.  "No, no.  Just you."  She says, nodding.  "Just you."  She repeats.  

  As soon as she says it, Sylvia's gaze snaps back to Lamina.  She catches the stutter in her step, the way her eyes glance back to Treech.  Her district partner.  Sylvia had noticed the closeness they had in the train car, more so than usual tributes from the same district.  The most likely thing is that they were friends at some point in seven.  

  Sylvia begs in her head, prays to whatever or whoever is listening that he stays with Lamina.  That he ignores Coral and stays with his district partner.  At least then Sylvia would know that Lamina would be protected to some degree.  She'd be at least a little bit safe.  

  But then Treech looks away from Lamina, hesitantly walking towards Coral, Mizzen, and Tanner.  Sylvia feels herself deflate a little, eyes immediately moving back to the auburn haired girl.  

  Lamina's eyes glance around as she takes a deep breath.  Sylvia sees the slight shake of her hands, the way her footsteps stutter.  She looks like she's trying not to cry.  Sylvia doesn't blame her.  Not at all.  Having her district partner abandon her for another alliance can't be easy.  The part of her that loves Lamina hates Treech for that.  Hates that he left her with barely a second thought.  But another part of her knows that he's like the rest of them- doing whatever they can to survive so they can go home.  And in the end, she can't hate him completely. 

  But then she sees Lamina's face again.  The way she's trying not to look anyone directly in the eye as her fists clench.  She wants nothing more than to walk over and comfort her, say that she'll protect her, comfort her like she's done countless times.  

  So she does.  Her feet are moving before she can even think about it, footsteps practically silent amongst the hushed talk and chatter of the other people in the room.  Within seconds, she's already reached Lamina.  Everything else is blocked out.  She doesn't see any of the mentors in their blood red uniforms, or the tributes.  She doesn't hear the talking, the chatter.  She doesn't see the arena, or the windows, or the doors, or the peacekeepers.  All she sees is Lamina's face as she looks up at her, eyebrows furrowed and mouth parted slightly in confusion. 

  "I'm staying with you."  Sylvia says immediately.  It's a promise and an oath and everything in between.  Her hand moves to hold Lamina's before she even considers the implications of the action- holding her hand where everyone can see.  She quickly decides that she doesn't care.  

  Lamina's eyebrows furrow, eyes glancing over Sylvia's face for any sign of lies or deception.  What Sylvia said might not have made sense to anyone else.  To anyone else, it might not have been a big deal.  But to Lamina, who knows that Sylvia came in here with no intention of hurting or killing anyone- who came in here already planning on dying- it means more than that.  

  Even as her eyes flicker frantically over Sylvia's face, her hand squeezes Sylvia's.  She seems confused and hopeful all at once.  "But you said-"

  "I know what I said."  Sylvia cuts her off quickly, her mind racing a million miles a minute.  She knows this is spur of the moment, knows it's impulsive and reckless, but she doesn't care.  Especially not when she sees the unshed tears in Lamina's eyes.  "And I'm still... I'm still not gonna fight.  I'm not gonna kill no one.  But I'll defend you."  She'll defend her all the way to death.  To her very last moments, she'll defend Lamina.   

  A single tear falls down Lamina's cheek as the girl nods.  "Thank you."  She mutters weakly, like all her emotions are overtaking her.  Her hand squeezes Sylvia's so hard she fears she'll break it, but she makes no move to pull away.  Without thinking much of it, Sylvia reaches up and wipes away the tear that streaks down Lamina's cheek. 

  And then the arena explodes around them.  

  The loudest sound Sylvia's ever heard, and an explosion that shakes her bones and sends everyone falling to the floor as screams and smoke fill the air.  Sylvia pulls Lamina down, one hand on Lamina's head and her other hand on her own.  Within seconds, everything has fallen into chaos.  

  Another explosion sounds out, and then another just seconds after it.  Each one brings more screaming and smoke, and the sound of rubble falling.  Her ears are ringing and smoke fills her lungs, and this might be the most panicked she's ever felt in her life.  Her eyes are wide as she frantically tries to adjust to the haziness of the arena.  Distantly, she hears someone screaming her name, and it sounds like Mizzen.  

  She feels her heart racing in her chest as she looks around.  Everyone's disoriented or panicking or laying on the floor motionless, and that in itself is enough to make Sylvia panic again.  

  "Lamina!"  Sylvia calls, turning to the girl next to her.  When there's no response from her, her eyes widen and an intense fear takes over her mind.  She thinks she feels her heart stop.  "Lamina!"  She practically screeches her name as she takes her hand off her head and moves to grab the auburn girl's arm.

  Lamina gasps, as if snapping out of a trance, eyes moving immediately to Sylvia.  The exhale of relief she lets out is nothing compared to the panic she's feeling.  She doesn't bother saying anything as she looks Lamina over for injuries, even as rubble falls around them and people scream.  Lamina coughs violently, placing her arm over her mouth to fend against the smoke.

  "Come on!"  Sylvia yells, desperately trying to be heard over the chaos happening around them.  "Come on!"  She yells, louder than before.  She doesn't know what's going on or where they're going, but she can feel blood trickling down her face and her temple is stinging.  

  Pulling Lamina up off the ground, her eyes frantically scan the area around them, trying to figure out where the hell to go or what the hell to do.  

  And then someones running towards her, practically barreling into her and throwing their arms around her.  She gasps, both from the suddenness of it and from the way the force sends her stumbling back slightly.  She feels Lamina's hand tighten in her own, but when she looks down she recognizes the person's hat immediately.  

  "I lost Coral!  I couldn't see you!  I couldn't see anything!"  Mizzen rushes out, his voice shaking more than she's ever heard.  He pulls back and looks up at her, looking like he's about to cry.  Soot covers his face, his whole body is shaking, and he looks a little worse for wear, but he's not hurt.  

  Sylvia's already nodding, one hand moving to his head.  "It's okay, it's okay!" She yells, trying to comfort him while still trying to be heard over the chorus of sounds filling the area.  Another explosion rocks the arena, and she's pulling the both of them closer to her out of instinct, covering Mizzen's head and lowering her own, making sure Lamina is pressed up against her.  Somewhere nearby, a part of the ceiling collapses and crashes to the ground, throwing up more dust and debris.  

  "We can't stay here!"  She yells, moving back to look at the both of them.  She cranes her neck, looking for an exit or the mentors or other tributes or anything that might tell her where to go.  She knows they can't run for the entrance that has been blown open because they'll be shot.  They can't hide or go deeper into the arena because they'll die or be caught and punished someway.  She hates it, but their best chance is to find peacekeepers before they can find them and think they're escaping.  

  She starts to run forward, keeping her arm around Mizzen's shoulders so she doesn't lose him, and her other hand in Lamina's.  Three figures run towards the blown open entrance and peacekeepers fire after them.  One of them makes it out, and the other two fall to the ground, dead.  

  Eyes widening in shock, she turns to where the shots came from.  Already, peacekeepers are finding tributes and rounding them up quickly, pulling them back towards another entrance.  Even with several injured mentors and tributes, the peacekeepers don't delay.  

  It's only a few moments before several peacekeepers move in their direction, yelling at them not to move.  And they don't.  But two of the peacekeepers still grab Sylvia harshly, dragging her forward by her arms.  She manages to bite back the curse she wants to yell, gritting her teeth from the sudden ache in her arms.  She looks behind her, hair whipping her face as she worriedly watches peacekeepers grab Lamina and Mizzen, dragging them off behind her.  

  They drag her out of the arena and into the sun, but even the fresh air isn't that welcoming.  Smoke pools out of the arena, filling the sky and wafting upwards as she hears more debris fall inside the arena.  

  Sylvia doesn't even manage to get a good look at the destruction the bombs caused before she's being tossed into the back of another transport truck.  Looking up, she sees only a few of the other tributes inside it, and she doesn't know any of their names.  There's a bang behind her, and she turns around just in time to see the peacekeeper practically toss Mizzen into the truck. 

  Mizzen stumbles, and Sylvia is right there to catch him by the arms, righting him quickly as she glares at the peacekeeper.  As much as she'd like to curse him out, curse his whole damn family, she knows that tensions are running high and the peacekeepers won't think twice about shooting her.  So she keeps her mouth shut, moving Mizzen carefully to sit down on the bench as another peacekeepers pushes Lamina into the truck.  She doesn't stumble, but she takes a second to right herself before her eyes fall on Sylvia.  

  Beelining to Sylvia, she sits next to her on the bench, pressing herself against the wall of the truck.  Sylvia hears her take a shaky breath, eyes flickering around the truck as one by one, the other tributes are pushed inside.  Sylvia sits with her arm around Mizzen's shoulders the whole time as his eyes remain locked on the doors of the truck, and she knows he's waiting for Coral to appear. 

  Eventually, she does.  Coral gets pushed into the truck, and her eyes are already looking around even before she's inside.  As soon as they land on Mizzen, her gaze softens, but she has no outward reaction other than that.  Sylvia takes her arm off Mizzen's shoulders as he moves down the bench to sit with his district partner.  Coral sends Sylvia a nod- maybe in thanks, maybe in respect- and Sylvia nods back.  

  Turning back to Lamina, her hand slips into hers almost automatically.  It's becoming muscle memory at this point.  Their fingers interlock and she can feel Lamina shaking under her grip.  Soot covers Lamina's hands, and new dirt and grime covers her skin, but she's still the most beautiful girl Sylvia's ever seen.  

  Her other hand comes up to the back of Lamina's head, brushing her thumb over her hair as she looks at her with pursed eyebrows.  Lamina's eyes water, her lip trembling slightly.  Just when it seems like she's going to break down and cry, she puts her head on Sylvia's shoulder, shifting her body slightly to be closer to her.  Sylvia keeps her hand on the back of Lamina's head, carding her fingers through the strands of her hair as she feels Lamina's shaky breath fan over her collarbones.  

  The truck doors slam shut and they're plunged into half-darkness again.  A minute later, the engine comes to life and the truck pulls away from the arena.  In the darkness, she keeps her eyes set on the floor.  Her only focus is the feeling of Lamina's hand in hers, and the thought of what tomorrow will bring.

Notes:

getting closer and closer to the games chapters :) me personally im excited but I dont think any of y'all should be

ive also decided on how to kill off.... certain.... people bc I love angst and I love to hurt feelings its so fun

also I did indeed make somewhat of a playlist for her just look up 'Sylvia Thornton' on Spotify

Chapter 11: the day before

The enclosure gets no visitors that day.  The arena explosion- revealed to be a rebel plot of some kind- had scared most of the capitol citizens into their homes for the remainder of the day.  Sylvia likes it because it means no pampered citizens stare at her like she's some fascinating creature.  

  The only few people to show up are some of the mentors.  Sylvia watches as a few of them call their tributes over, asking them questions and looking them over while handing some variety of food or water through the bars.  

  Watching from against a rock at the back of the enclosure, Sylvia fiddles with her rings.  Her legs are stretched out in front of her, one crossed over the other as she taps her heel against the ground absentmindedly, swaying the toe of her boot back and forth.  

  Lamina's gaze- previously set on the ground- is now set on Sylvia's boots.  She has that glazed over look again.  Not the one that signals she's about to cry, but the one that means she's deep in thought.  The looks are similar, but it's easy for Sylvia to tell the difference when she spends so much time paying attention to the little details of Lamina's face.  

  "What are we gonna do tomorrow?"  Lamina asks, voice low.  The enclosure is relatively silent, save for the hushed chatter of the couple mentors and tributes scattered around, as well as Dill's coughing.  Her heart breaks a little every time she hears the noise.  

  Looking back to Lamina, Sylvia leans her head on the rock behind her.  "The bell's gonna ring, and I'm gonna find you."  The answer is immediate, and really the only concrete plan that Sylvia has so far.  "I don't think we should get a weapon right away.  It's gonna be a fuckin' bloodbath in the middle for the first few minutes or so.  We should run and hide somewhere nearby... wait until the coast is clear, and then try for a weapon."  

  Lamina nods.  "When the bombs went off, I saw some tunnels or something.  They were underneath the floor.  I think the explosions opened them." 

  That catches Sylvia's attention easily.  She had been so focused on getting Lamina and Mizzen out of there that she hadn't even considered the fact that the layout of the arena might've changed.  She sits up fully, turning her body to face Lamina, eyebrows furrowed.  "Really?"  She asks. 

  Lamina's nodding her head, mimicking Sylvia's move as she sits up.  "Yeah, they-"

  "Sylvia!" 

  The call of her name interrupts their conversation.  Like magic, Sylvia feels a headache coming on and groans.  She doesn't even have to look to know who it is.  "Motherfucker..."  She mutters, rolling her eyes.  Lamina's eyebrows furrow, and she leans forward to see past Sylvia.  

  "Isn't that your mentor?"  Lamina asks lowly, leaning back agains the rock and focusing back on Sylvia.  The expression on Lamina's face turns annoyed, and maybe even a little angry.  Her eyes narrow and her lips form a thin line.  Sylvia's not sure what the cause of it is.    

  "Unfortunately, yes."  She answers.  Groaning, she stands up and dusts off her skirt.  "I'll be right back."  She promises before turning and walking to the bars of the enclosure where Florus Friend waits.

  His usual grin takes place on his face, easy-going and supposedly charming.  It does nothing but piss Sylvia off and annoy her.  

  She doesn't say anything as she stops on the other side of the bars.  Leveling her eyes to him, she waits for him to speak as she adopts a neutral expression.  

  "I brought you some things so you'll have enough energy for tomorrow."  Are his first words.  He opens his satchel and pulls out three bottles of water and two wrapped sandwiches.  "If you can, maybe try and hide some of them in your skirt or something to bring into the arena."  He suggests, even though Sylvia knows she won't.  As soon as she had seen the food and water she knew what she was going to do with it.  

  Cautiously accepting the things he hands her, she easily balances it all in her two hands.  She looks him up and down with a slight glare, waiting for him to speak.  

  "I'm assuming you've thought of strategy for tomorrow?  What weapons you'll run for, who you'll get rid of... that sort of thing."  He says excitedly.  It's like a kid watching the rodeo- excited for the show to start and to see if his favorite player will win.  It disgusts her.  

  Before she can answer, he leans slightly to look into the enclosure behind her.  "Interesting choice of an alliance.  Has she stopped crying once?"  He says with a sneer, his nose wrinkling in disgust.  "Can't imagine why you'd pick that weak little thing.  Unless you're planning to stab her in the back."  

  Sylvia can't begin to explain the level of anger she has towards Florus Friend at this moment.  Not only in the way he's talking about her and the games, but specifically in the way he's talking about Lamina.  She considers doing exactly what the other tribute girl did before- smashing one of these water bottles and stabbing him in the throat with it.  At the very least, she wants to get a few good punches in on his face- maybe break a few bones.  

  Unfortunately, the bars are still here.  And if she does that, the peacekeepers won't hesitate in gunning her down.  And then who would protect Lamina?

  So she doesn't. She settles for glaring slightly and offering the smallest response she can that will get him to fuck right off.  "She's good with an axe."  Even in that once simple sentence, she's shaking with anger.  He doesn't seem to notice. 

  Shrugging, he purses his lips.  Then ultimately shakes his head, waving his hand in the air absentmindedly, as if he's swatting away a fly.  "Whatever.  Anyway, onto more important things.  At the interview tonight, I'm thinking you show them your brand first, and then move on to the tattoos that I've heard about-"

  "No."  She cuts him off for the second time that day.  She revels slightly in the slight look of shock that he has on his faced as he registers what she said.  It's quickly replaced by annoyance.  

  "Why are you being so stubborn?  What is the issue?  Do you want sponsors or not?  Do you want food and water in that arena?"  He demands harshly.  His words don't faze her.  She couldn't give less of a damn.  His face grows red from anger, and in the next moment he's stomping off away from the enclosure.  

  Rolling her eyes, she turns away from the bars and walks back to Lamina.  Her mentor hadn't bothered to visit her at the enclosure yet.  Sylvia resents him for it.  He could at least act like he views them as something more than a stupid fucking school assignment.  But no.

  Lamina watches her as she approaches, and Sylvia practically feels the annoyance drain out of her.  Not all the way, though.  There's a special little bit of anger she holds for Florus Friend that she would just love to act on.  

  She smiles as she stands above Lamina, handing her one of the sandwiches.  

  "Are you sure?"  Lamina inquires, hand outreached to take the sandwich but having yet to do so.  Sylvia doesn't say it, but a sandwich is minuscule compared to what she's willing to give to Lamina.  She'd literally jump off a cliff for her if the other girl asked nicely and smiled at her.    

  Rolling her eyes with a small smile on her face, she pushes the sandwich into Lamina's hand and then puts one of the water bottles down next to her.  "I'll be right back."  She says, putting the other sandwich and one of the bottles of water on the rock next to Lamina, where she had been sitting.  

  Taking the last bottle of water, her eyes scan the enclosure for the person she's looking for.  Mizzen and Tanner's tributes had given them food and water, so she doesn't have to worry about them for now.  Coral and Treech's mentors had done the same.  

  Catching sight of Reaper's towering form in one of the back corners of the enclosure, she makes a beeline for him.  Making sure to go around all the other tributes, she catches sight of Dill leaning against one of the rock clusters.  Reaper stands in front of her, and notices Sylvia coming nearly right away.  

  She stops about five feet from the two of them, raising her eyebrows in silent question as she looks between Reaper and Dill.  She watches his eyes move from her face to the bottle of water in her hands, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  

  "It's for her."  Sylvia explains quietly, gesturing to Dill.  Almost as if on cue, the girl starts coughing up a storm.  They wrack her chest, and by the way she's squeezers her eyes shut and seems to huddle in on herself, Sylvia knows it must be painful. 

  Reaper's eyes widen- just the slightest bit, so minuscule in his reaction that Sylvia almost doesn't notice it.  He looks back to Dill, stepping forward and crouching down next to the girl as she coughs, one of his hands on her back as he mutters something to her.  A moment or so later, her coughing dies down slowly, and then she looks at him, her lips moving with words Sylvia can't hear.  

  Dill looks towards her, eyes glazed over with unshed tears as her hands shake.  Reaper follows Dill's gaze, and seems to look over Sylvia for a few moments.  Sylvia clenches the water bottle in her hand, waiting for him to say or do something.  

  And then Reaper nods, shifting back slightly.  Relief hits Sylvia, and she wastes no time approaching Dill and crouching down on her other side, while still being sure to give the girl some space.  

  "Hey, sweet pea."  Sylvia mutters, brushing some of Dill's curls back.  The girl's forehead is worryingly hot.  Sylvia's eyebrows purse as she throws a quick glance to Reaper, and then back to Dill.  She doesn't bother asking how she's doing, because the answer is obvious and she's scared it will only upset Dill.  Instead, she uncaps the water bottle and pushes it gently into Dill's hand.  "Here."  

  Dill's hands are still slightly shaky, but she takes the water without much of an issue.  A few drops spill as she lifts it to her lips and takes a few sips.  All the while, Sylvia keeps one hand on Dill's back, rubbing gently as she watches to make sure the girl doesn't choke.  

  After taking a few sips, Dill lowers the bottle and Sylvia hands her the cap.  "You try to bring that into the arena, okay?  I know you need it, and I don't know if there's any safe water sources other than the drones they might send in."  She puts emphasis on 'might', because truth be told isn't guaranteed their mentors would send in any supplies.  

  Dill nods, looking up at Sylvia through her curls.  Sylvia smiles, ruffling her hair slightly.  "Good girl."  She says, then turns to Reaper, who watches her cautiously.  Sylvia glances to Dill, who's shut her eyes and leaned back against the rock, cradling the water bottle close to her chest.  

  Looking back to Reaper, Sylvia nods to the side and stands up.  She walks a few feet away, far enough that Dill can't hear, but close enough that they can keep an eye on her.  Reaper follows her without much hesitance, and crosses his arms as he stands in front of her.  It would be an intimidating stance if Sylvia didn't see the look in his eyes.  Something akin to respect, maybe.  

  "You stickin' by her?"  Sylvia asks, quirking an eyebrow.  They both know that Sylvia's not just talking about in the enclosure.  She's also talking about in the arena.  

  Reaper nods immediately.  "Of course."  He responds.  

  Nodding, Sylvia bites the inside of her lip.  "Good."  She mutters to herself.  Her eyes trail back to the resting girl a few feet away, then to the boy in front of her.  Because as tall and muscular and intimidating as he looks, that's all he is.  A boy.  "Your mentor tell you that we're at the top of the leaderboard?"  Sylvia asks, her tone amused.  

  Her comment elicits the first semblance of a laugh she's heard from Reaper so far.  It's more of a harsh exhaling of air, and the slight upwards tilt of his lips, but it's still something.  "My mentor hasn't been to see me."  He deadpans.  "But I heard from one of the other tributes."  

  Sylvia frowns.  "Your mentor hasn't..."  She trails off, eyebrows furrowing.  "When's the last time you even ate anything?"  Reaper opens his mouth to answer, but Sylvia swats her hands through the air.  She holds a finger up and his mouth shuts immediately.  "You know what?  Don't answer that.  I'll be back."  She says decidedly, turning and walking off. 

  Lamina looks up at her as she approaches, and Sylvia gives her a soft smile.  "Sorry."  She says as she grabs her own sandwich from where she'd left it on the rock next to Lamina.  "I'll be right back."  She says hurriedly, turning around and pacing back to where Reaper is.

  She holds the sandwich out.  "Take it."  Her tone leaves no room for argument, but Reaper still eyes it suspiciously.  "I ate yesterday.  You haven't eaten since- I'm assuming- the reaping.  And you need to protect Dill in the arena.  Can't do that if you're starving."  Actually, she thinks he could probably do it if he was starving- he seems dedicated enough to the girl.  But Sylvia doesn't want to test that theory.  

  Her reasoning seems to get to him, because he takes the sandwich from her hand.  Be it a little hesitantly.  But a win is a win, and Sylvia smiles.  

  Reaper and her are similar, she thinks.  She doesn't plan on killing anyone- or hurting anyone.  Disarming is the farthest she'll go.  And Reaper doesn't plan on killing, she thinks.  It seems like his only purpose inside that arena is to protect Dill.  Just like Sylvia's only purpose in that arena is to protect Lamina.  

  She gives him one last nod, and then turns to go back to Lamina.  Her footsteps are slow at first, but they quicken when she catches sight of a group of peacekeepers approaching the enclosure.  They're going around to the entrance at the back of the enclosure, and she reaches Lamina quick.  She grabs Lamina gently by the arm just as the door opens and the peacekeepers come in. 

  And by this point, she knows what to expect.  It's practically routine.  Their guns drawn, she gets two peacekeepers, and they're all escorted rather roughly to the truck that waits for them outside.  And again, the back of this truck is quickly becoming her least favorite place in the entire world up until this point.    

  She makes sure Lamina is sitting in the corner seat on the bench so that Sylvia can better protect her.  Her assumption is that Mizzen will stay away from her, as much as she dislikes the idea, because the games are tomorrow and she is very obviously not a part of their little pack.  So she's pleasantly surprised when he makes a beeline for her as soon as he gets into the truck.  

  He sets himself in the seat right next to her, shoulders slumped and he makes a point to not look at her.  The only way she can describe the look on his face is 'betrayed'.  And she hates herself for it.  That she hurt this little boy- and yes, she knows exactly how she hurt him- and yet he still finds some semblance of comfort in sitting next to her.  She knows how he must be viewing it- that she chose Lamina over him.  And maybe in a small way she did.  But not entirely.

  The truck doors slam shut and cut off her thoughts.  She feels Lamina flinch beside her from the noise, and she turns back to her.  Recognizing the look on Lamina's face, Sylvia puts her hand on the other girl's back, rubbing slightly in a soothing gesture.  She sees Lamina's jaw tense, her bottom lip quivering ever-so-slightly, and the tears that have yet to shed in her eyes.  The truck starts to move and Sylvia leans close to her. 

  "It's just interviews."  She mutters reassuringly, rubbing Lamina's back.  "You don't have to do them if you don't want to."  

  Lamina's still for a moment, and then she nods.  Slowly at first, and then slightly more determined.  Her fists clench and then re-open, a gesture that Sylvia's come to realize is some sort of nervous habit.  As soon as she catches wind of it, she slips her own hand into Lamina's to squeeze instead.  It's good for both of them.  Lamina needs something to put pressure on, or to squeeze to get her mind off things, and Sylvia needs the feeling of it to ground her somewhat. 

  The short ride is silent, nobody talking or whispering to each other like usual.  This is the last night they have before they'll all be in the arena tomorrow.  The last night they'll all be alive.  Everyone knows what everyone else is thinking.  

  The doors open after a few good minutes, and peacekeepers are waiting outside the truck.  This time, they're not called out by district, which means Sylvia can stay next to Lamina.  When she's brought out of the truck, the first thing she notes is that they're not outside.  The truck has backed up to some sort of raised platform in what looks like a garage.  An open door waits a few feet away, and through it she can hear the distant sound of commentary from a somewhat familiar voice.  A few seconds later, loud laughter drifts out from the door, assumedly from an audience. 

  Instead of each of them being guarded by a peacekeeper- or two, in Sylvia's case- a group of ten or so corrals them through the door and into a waiting room of sorts.  There's one long bench pressed against the wall, as well as a few chairs set towards the middle.  On the opposite side of them is a wall with large metal doors.  Spare boxes and some kind of technology are stored here, which leads Sylvia to the conclusion that this is merely a storage room. 

  Her hand remains interlocked with Lamina's, not that anyone notices.  The peacekeepers move to different spots around the perimeter of the room, and the door to the garage shuts behind them.  Looking around, Sylvia sets her eyes on the end seat of the bench.  

  The two of them sit down, Sylvia's eyes flickering around the new space.  Now that her eyes have adjusted to the somewhat dim lighting of the room, she sees just how high the ceiling goes.  She once again hears the distant voice of that eccentric little man from the news- the one that had been commenting on them when they were first dumped in the enclosure.  This must be a studio.  Or some other broadcast center.  

  Next to her, Lamina taps her foot on the ground worriedly.  Her gaze is set on the floor in front of them and she squeezes Sylvia's hand periodically.  She looks as Lamina's side profile.  Her eyebrows are purses, lips set into a thin line and her eyes are narrowed slightly.  A thin layer of dirt covers her face, and Sylvia sees one particular patch of dried dirt right near Lamina's temple.  Absentmindedly, she reaches up with her free hand and wipes the dirt away with her thumb.  

  At the light contact, Lamina looks up and away from the ground.  Her whole face seems to soften, the furrow in her eyebrows disappearing and her eyes glancing over Sylvia's face.  

  She squeezes Lamina's hand, smiling softly at her.  Her thumb rubs over the back of Lamina's hand, subtly tracing the words 'I love you' onto her skin.  She might not be able to tell her the words directly, but she wants to put it out into the universe.  Wants whoever or whatever is out there, out in the cosmos, that she loves Lamina.  

  Lamina's lips upturn into the ghost of a smile as she squeezes Sylvia's hand back. 

  And then the mentors enter the room.  And unfortunately, with them comes her headache. 

  She gives Lamina's hand one last squeeze, and then pulls her hand away.  The last thing she wants is Florus Friend knowing how she feels about Lamina.  She doesn't know what he'll do if he suspects her feelings, but she knows he can't be trusted.  The less he knows about her, the better.  

  While a large number of the mentors conjugate in a small group on the other side of the room- already knowing their tributes won't be going on to interview- some of them walk over.  One of those few, unfortunately, is her own mentor.  She levels his glare at him as he approaches, and she can feel Lamina stiffen up beside her as his presence becomes known.  Sylvia also notes that not all of the mentors are here- she assumes some are in the hospital from the bombing.  She wishes Florus Friend were one of them.  

  Grinning with his usual would-be charm, he pulls over one of the seats and sits down no more than three feet from her.  His proximity makes her uncomfortable, and she clenches her fists against her skirt to hold back her anger.  She remembers how he had spoken about Lamina earlier, and she runs her tongue along the inside of her cheek to avoid saying something that would constitute as bitchy or rude.  

  "Sylvia, I hope you've thought of what you'll be saying in your interview."  He says, jumping straight to the point and ignoring Lamina's presence entirely.  He leans forward, elbows on his knees, eagerly awaiting her response.  

  Fuck, would he ever get a clue?  Apparently learning when to drop something or how to read a room isn't one of the things they teach in the capitol. 

  "I'm not going on."  Is her response, eyes flickering to the metal doors on the wall behind him, then back to his face.  She keeps her face neutral, her tone monotonous.  But she feels her hand shaking with anger.  

  Scoffing, he rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair.  "Of course you are."  He says, as if she doesn't get a choice in the matter.  As if she's a fuckin hound that will roll over and do whatever he says.  

  Instead of answering and leading into a back-and-forth with him, she raises an eyebrow and leans slightly back.  The way she plants her feet on the ground makes it clear she's not moving.  She feels somewhat like a child committing an act of rebellion against their parents... not that she would know what that's like.  But if she's a child, Florus Friend is a fucking baby, what with the way he's acting. 

  His little facade drops when he sees just how serious she is.  He glares and stands up sharply, the movement making Lamina stiffen up beside her.  His sudden movement makes the chair behind him shove back a little, and out of the corner of her eye she sees several mentors and tributes look their way.  She can practically feel the slightly worry and annoyance radiating off of Lamina.  

  Sylvia doesn't move as he steps forward, glaring down at her.  "Get the hell up."  He hisses, eyes narrowing.  Before she can react, his hand darts out and grabs her forearm, gripping so tight she can almost feel it bruising.  He wrenches her arm and she stands up quickly to avoid him pulling it out of its socket.

  Lamina stands up quickly, and Sylvia spits out at him, "Get your fuckin' hand off of me."  Wrenching her arm out of his grip, she hears people stand up out of their seats.  Who the hell does this kid think he is?  She's practically shaking with anger and her breathing is shaky, but against her better judgment she turns towards the noise.  She sees Tanner and Mizzen stood up, both glaring and looking like they're gonna start a fight at any moment.  With a start, she realizes that Reaper's also standing up, legs set like he's gonna move in their direction any moment.  Most- if not all- of the mentors and tributes are looking their way now, as are the peacekeepers.  

  She looks back to Florus Friend to tell him off, only to feel a sharp sting as his hand connects with the side of her face sharply.  Her head snaps to the side and quickly enough she feels the trickle of blood coming from her nose as she raises a hand to it.  

  "What the fuck?!"  She hears Tanner yell, followed by the sound of a chair screeching on the floor. 

  "Hey!"  Mizzen yells, anger clouding his voice.  "Don't- Coral, don't grab me, I'm gonna beat the shit out of him!" 

  "Florus, what the hell is wrong with you?!"  She hears one of the mentors demand.  

  Sylvia hears the scuffle of footsteps from all around, and she lifts her hand from her face to see her fingers stained crimson.  One of the peacekeepers is pulling Florus Friend back by the arm as the boy practically seethes in anger.  With a start, Sylvia realizes Lamina's moving forward, fists clenched so tight they're shaking as anger takes over her face.  Her eyes are deadset on the boy, narrowed and determined as her eyebrows furrow.  

  Sylvia's eyes widen and she forgets all about the slap as she reaches forward, catching Lamina by the wrist quickly.  

  "Don't- hey, it's fine.  It's fine.  Don't do nothin' crazy, sweetheart."  Sylvia says, looking between Lamina and Florus Friend as the boy is brought a few feet away.  Her eyebrows purse as she holds Lamina back from doing something reckless.  "Lamina, it's alright.  It's alright."  She says again, breathing hard as the sting from the slap begins to fade.  She feels blood dripping from her nose to her lip and she licks it away.   

  Lamina's breathing heavily, her face taking up that look she gets when she's deciding between two different things.  Her eyes remain glaring at Florus Friend for a few more moments, but then she turns back to Sylvia, and her whole demeanor shifts.  Her shoulders lose their tension and any hardness in her face fades away immediately.  Lamina's gaze moves over Sylvia's, and her eyes catch onto the blood dripping down her nose.  

  Reaching up quickly, Sylvia wipes it away, ignoring the fact that blood smears on her hand.  She turns from Lamina to where Florus Friend is, and she sighs.  "Stay here."  She urges Lamina, "I'll be right back." 

  And then she's turning and walking towards where a peacekeeper is holding Florus Friend by the arm as the boy bitches and moans.  When he sees her, he just gets angrier.  Part of her wonders why he's so obsessed with her and this game, while the other mentors are- for the most part- barely even interested.  But she finds she doesn't really give a fuck about his reasoning.  

  The peacekeeper holding him seems to straighten up when he sees Sylvia approaching, his hand twitching towards his gun.  In the background of her mind, she hears Tanner and Mizzen arguing, either with each other or with other people, she can't tell.  Sylvia makes sure to stop a good foot away from her mentor before she speaks. 

  Raising her eyebrows, she speaks slowly to him as if he's a child, just to rub it in.  She leans forward so only he can hear what she's gonna tell him.  "I am not spillin' a single drop of someone else's blood for you in that arena." 

  It's all she needs to say for him to start throwing a tantrum again.  He's throwing out all kinds of words and names at her as she turns with a satisfied little smirk and walks away.  

  "Fucking bitch! District scum!"  And those are just some of the more tame ones.  Even some of the other mentors gasp at the things he calls her, but Sylvia just thinks it's funny.

  She sits down on the bench next to Lamina again as the peacekeeper drags Florus Friend out of the room, and almost immediately, Lamina's hand is on her. 

  "Are you okay?"  Lamina asks lowly, eyebrows furrowing as her gaze flickers across the rest of Sylvia's face.  She can feel the slight heat radiating off of where he slapped her, so she knows her skin there is probably a bright red. 

  "I'm fine, Lamina."  She says softly, with all the care in the world.  She brings her hand up to where Lamina is squeezing her arm slightly.  She interlocks their fingers and rests them on her knee.  She feels Lamina's hand shaking and chuckles slightly.  "What's got you all riled up?" 

  Lamina huffs, running her free hand over her thigh.  She seems hesitant to speak, but after a moment or two, she does.  "I saw him slap you, and I just... I just got so angry.  I wanted to hit him.  Like... bad.  I wanted to hit him so hard that he could never touch you again." 

  Her words sink in and make Sylvia smile as she processes them.  Leaning against the wall behind her, she reaches up with her free hand and brushes some of Lamina's hair back behind her ear.  "You're sweet."  She mutters, smiling gently.  

  In the darkness of the little corner they're in, Sylvia runs her thumb along Lamina's hand, spelling out the words 'I love you.'

Notes:

uhhhh Sylvia's down bad for lamina again, but like... fork found in kitchen so yk what else is new

ive already started planning out another lamina fanfic with another oc so... more on that later ig

im so excited for the next couple chapters cause they're probs gonna be the arena chapters tehehheheh I have plans that I cannot share because the haters will sabotage me

Chapter 12: the night before

The interviews with the man that Sylvia now knows is 'Lucky' Flickerman end quickly.  Each tribute is only allowed a few minutes of time, and only a handful of tributes even go on to do it.  

  Afterwards, they're all shoved back into the transport truck, and then unceremoniously dumped in the now-familiar enclosure in the zoo.  They're left to sit with their thoughts, not one of them able to close their eyes and sleep right away.  There's too many swirling thoughts and too much anxiety.  

  Sylvia and Lamina sit in what has now become their little spot- both of them leaned against a rock, off to the side of the enclosure, right near a tree.  A slight bruise has since formed on Sylvia's cheek from the slap delivered by Florus Friend, but it doesn't hurt as much as it could.  Lamina glances at it every once in a while, leaning froward from her spot next to Sylvia as if she's scared the bruise will become something worse in a matter of minutes.  Each time, Sylvia smiles softly at her and assures her it doesn't hurt and that she's fine.  And each time, Lamina huffs a little before leaning back against the rock.  And then the process repeats.  

  Around the enclosure, a few people take part in hushed conversations with their chosen partners.  Either scheming of what to do tomorrow, or who to go after first.  Or whether or not to run and hide and abandon the chance of acquiring a weapon.  Sylvia and Lamina stay quiet, though, already knowing what their plan is.  Instead, they choose to settle in with each other's presence, hands interlocked between them. 

  It's sometime late in the evening- when the sun is just going down and everything is silhouetted as the crickets start to emerge- that the sound of footsteps catches her attention.  Sylvia's head turns, and she's slightly surprised to see Coral approaching.  The district four girl stops a few feet away, standing there somewhat awkwardly but putting off an air of confidence and intimidation.  

  "Can I talk to you?" She asks, nodding her head to the side in a way that suggests she wants the conversation to be private.  

  Nodding and wondering what Coral could possibly be wanting to talk to her about, she turns to Lamina.  "I'll be back."  She says quietly, smiling softly at her and gently pulling her hand from the other girl's.  She stands up as Lamina nods, her gaze following Sylvia's movements with an unreadable expression on her face.  Sylvia wipes off her skirt as her and Coral step a few feet away to an area of the enclosure that no one's sitting in. 

  Coral's hands are in her pockets, gaze purposefully flickering around for a few moments before it finally lands on Sylvia.  

  "Look,"  Coral starts, sighing deeply, "I don't know what your plan is for this.  I asked Tanner and he kept his mouth shut, which-ultimately- I respect, even if it pisses me off a little bit."  She exhales, "I'm not here to ask you to join us.  I know you have your own alliance."  She pauses, clearly hesitating with what she's about to ask, as if even the idea of uttering the words makes her uncomfortable.  After a moment or two, she spits it out.  "Could you please talk to Mizzen?"  

  Sylvia wishes she could say she's not surprised by the question, but truthfully, she's a little puzzled.  Her eyebrows furrow and she crosses her arms over her chest.  "What?"  She mutters, eyes flickering behind Coral to where Mizzen sits a few feet away from Tanner and Treech.  He's sitting on a rock, playing with a stick- smacking it lazily against the ground.  But every few seconds, he glances up to where her and Coral are, then immediately looks away again. 

  "He won't admit it,"  Coral continues, drawing Sylvia's attention back to her, "But he's nervous.  I don't have the kind of patience to talk to him, like... effectively."  Coral takes a deep breath, wiping her hands on her pants, "But he looks up to you.  Like a role model.  And I would just-"

  "I'll talk to him."  Sylvia cuts her off, nodding.  "It's fine.  I'll talk to him."  She repeats, because truthfully, she'd been wanting to talk to him anyway.  Coral's eyes widen just slightly, but then she resumes her neutral face and nods.  Sylvia doesn't wait for her to say anything else before she walks over to where Mizzen is. 

  When she's a few feet away, he looks up, tapping his stick against the ground.  The motion stops sharply when he sees its her.  His eyes widen, and he then looks away, turning his whole body.  He drops the stick and crosses his arms over his chest, his lips forming into a pout.  And as amusing as it is, it really hits Sylvia in the heart because he well and truly just looks like a little boy in this moment.  A little boy who doesn't know how to deal with his emotions and would just choose to try and ignore them altogether.  

  "Mizzen,"  Sylvia says softly, but somewhat sternly as she stands a foot or two away.  Her arms are crossed over her chest, head tilted down only slightly.  "I know you're upset with me, but could you look at me, please?" 

  "Nuh uh."  He mutters, shaking his head as he turns farther away from her so she's seeing just his back.  Confusion fills her, because she knows he's upset with her, but there's no real reason for him to turn completely away-

  A quiet sniffle fills the air, and she sees the movement of Mizzen's shoulder as he reaches up to wipe at his face.  Immediately, Sylvia's entire demeanor softens, a look of pity crossing her face.  

  "Oh, Mizzen..."  She murmurs, eyebrows pursing as she uncrosses her arms, walking around the rock he's sitting on to crouch down in front of him.  She kneels so she can see his face, see the tears he's struggling to hold back but are slowly starting to streak down his cheeks.  His bottom lip is trembling and it looks like he's just on the verge of breaking down.  She feels like something's stabbed her in the heart.  

  He's got part of his sleeve scrunched up in his fist, wiping furiously at his cheeks- so hard that she fears he'll rub the skin raw.  She reaches up and gently takes his wrist, her eyes glancing over his face.  

  "Mizzen, talk to me." She urges softly as her other hand moves to squeeze his arm slightly.  He's shaking in her grasp, like all the emotions inside him are just begging to be let out.  She calms him down like she imagines a mother would calm down a child- all gentle touches and soft whispers.  She feels something wet streak down her cheek, and she realizes with a start that she's crying, too.

  The boy's breathing is shaky at best, but he manages to find the words to utter to her.  Part of her wishes he hadn't.  

  "Why are you leaving us?  Why are you leaving me?"  He whimpers, voice as small and weak as she's ever heard it.  He sounds desperate, even more than when the bombs had gone off in the arena and he had come running to her. 

  Sylvia shakes her head, trying to stop her own tears from falling.  She feels the sting of it in her eyes.  "Mizzen, it's not like that."  She tries to explain.  "I'm not-"

  "Yes, you are!" He insists.  His words- the betrayal in his voice- make Sylvia flinch.  He sniffles again, reaching up with his balled up sleeve to wipe at his face.  "You- you're not going with us!  You're..."  He takes a shaky breath as he wipes his face again.  "You're going with her..."   He mutters the last part weakly, turning his head towards the area of the enclosure where Lamina sits.  

  Sylvia turns to where Lamina sits, and for the first time in the time she's known her, she's glad Lamina's not looking at her.  She wouldn't know what to say to her if she asked Sylvia why she's crying. 

  Her mouth opens to answer as she turns back to Mizzen, but no words come out.  She's not sure what to say.  Even if she did know what to say to him, he talks before she can.  

  "I just..."  He sniffles again, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve as his mouth turns down into a frown.  His lips tremble.  "I thought we were friends.  I thought you cared about me."  He whimpers quietly, voice shaking.  

  Sylvia purses her lips, feeling the tears in her eyes close to falling.  She shakes her head in a desperate attempt to console Mizzen, to get him to listen to her.  She hadn't planned on being this upset with herself when she came over, but she's certainly feeling it now.  Every time he sniffles or wipes his face, it's like a knife to her heart.  She's careful not to squeeze his arms too tight, but she squeezes them enough for him to look at her.  

  "Mizzen, it's not..."  She takes a shaky breath and re-adjusts her position kneeling in front of him.  "Please, Mizzen, it's not like that, I promise."  She practically begs.  

  His eyes lock with hers, and more tears fall down his cheeks.  He wipes them away, but they just keep coming.  "Are you mad at me?"  He whispers, eyebrows furrowing.  "Is that why you won't come with us?  Cause if you're mad at me, then I'm sorry for whatever I did.  Just please, please come with us."  He begs, nearly stumbling over his own words as his hands clutch her shawl.

  She can't imagine what would possibly lead him to believe she's angry with him.  She doesn't think there's a world where she could be mad at him enough to take her anger out on him completely like he seems to think she's doing.  Shaking her head, she reinstates her grip on his arms.  

  "No, Mizzen."  She says firmly, her breath shaking.  Actually, her whole body might be shaking.  She reaches up with one hand to wipe away the tear that's on her eyelash line.  "Mizzen, I promise that I am not mad at you, okay?"  He seems to be listening now, whether it's because he wants to or because he's so out of breath, she's not sure. 

  She sighs shakily, and moves so she's sitting on the rock with him, their backs to everyone else in the enclosure.  Linking her left arm through his right one, she holds his forearm gently with both hands.  She dips her head down slightly to see his face- the furrow of his eyebrow, the sad pout of his lips as he tries not to cry again.  

  "Mizzen, I'm..."  She hesitates.  She knows what she's about to say might get back to Coral, and she might come for her if she knew, but she doesn't really care at this point.  "I'm not planning on killing anyone in the arena."  As soon as she says the words, his body stiffens and he looks up at her.  "That's why I'm not joining you and the others.  I won't be any use."  

  "Oh..."  He mutters weakly, a look of realization coming to his eyes.  He sniffles and wipes his face again, but she's thankful to find he doesn't look too upset anymore, like he's gotten past the breakdown stage.  

  "So..."  He pauses, looks up at her, eyebrows furrowed.  "So you're not gonna... try and kill me?"  He whispers, his hand coming to clench the fur of her shawl.  

  Somehow, that sentence hurts her more than anything he's said in the past few minutes.  Her eyebrows purse and she brings one hand up to the side of his face.  "No, sweet boy, I would never.  I would never hurt you in that arena, I want you to understand that."  She says firmly.  "I mean it, Mizzen.  I would rather slit my own throat than hurt you, okay?" 

  She wants him to understand, prays he understands how truthful she's being.  Thankfully, he seems to.  He nods, wiping his face one last time.  His eyes are still glassy, but he's not crying anymore and it seems like he's starting to calm down.  

  "I wouldn't want you to do that, though."  He mutters weakly, pouting a little bit.  But there's a small, shy smile threatening to creep onto his face.  His face is starting to regain a little bit of hope.  

  She rubs his arm, giving him a small smile.  She wants to say she won't, but she might have to.  She's not sure how exactly it will go in the arena- who will live and who will die.  All she knows is that she's not making it out alive.  

  Mizzen's eyebrows furrow, his nose scrunching a little.  He moves to face her fully and she lets go of his arm so he can sit criss-cross on the rock.  "But..."  He hesitates, looking confused.  He picks up his stick again and starts hitting his palm lightly with it.  "But if you're not planning on... killing anyone..."  He glances over his shoulder to where Lamina sits.  "Why did you go with her?" 

  Sylvia doesn't know how to answer that.  She knows the answer- she's in love with Lamina.  She'd do almost anything for Lamina.  But she doesn't know if Mizzen will take that as an answer, or even understand it.  But Sylvia can't help the way her eyes stray behind him to Lamina, the way her face softens and the clenching in her chest loosens.  Her shoulders lose their tension, and she seems to almost relax.  She hopes Mizzen doesn't notice.  But unfortunately for her, if Mizzen is anything, he's perceptive.  

  She moves her gaze back to him just as his eyes widen, the stick stilling in his hands as his mouth forms an 'o'.  He turns his whole body so fast she's scared he'll go flying right off the rock, his gaze set on Lamina.  This time, the girl is turned towards them, and adopts a look of bewilderment at Mizzen's sudden interest in her.  He swings his body back around to face Sylvia, while she throws a wave to Lamina, a promise that she'll tell her later.  

  "Oh..."  Mizzen gapes, as though he's just discovered the secrets of the universe.  "Oh... you're in love with her."  

  And sue her for the way she can't control the drop of her jaw, or the widening of her eyes.  Because how the fuck did it take her so long to realize her own feelings for the girl, but it took Mizzen five fucking seconds and an emotional breakdown?

  And then he grins, a little shit-eating grin.  "Don't worry."  He says, slapping the stick against his hand again.  "I won't tell Coral, I'm very good at keeping secrets."  He assures, but somehow it doesn't soothe her.  His words, paired with the playful glint in his eyes are not a good combination.  

  Even though they're only a foot apart, she moves closer to him, her face expressing nothing but bewilderment.  "Mizzen, how did you know that?"  She demands softly, not even trying to deny it.  

  He grins, kicking his feet over the side of the rock.  "It's how you look at her."  He explains, slapping the stick on the rock with a grin.  "You look at her like she just gave you a pearl.  Or like she just made you a net.  It's how all the sailor's wives in my district look at the sailors when they come back from a long fishing trip.  Or how people look at each other when they get married.  It's how my parents look at each other, and they're really gross, but I guess that means they're really in love."                    

  That elicits a slight laugh from Sylvia.  Though she's a little confused, and still somewhat bewildered.  "What does a pearl and a net mean?"  She asks curiously, glad for the change of topic.  If anything, it'll distract Mizzen for a little bit.  

  The boy grins.  "Oh! It's a tradition in four."  He explains happily.  His demeanor is a stark contrast from what it was a few minutes ago.  "When you want to propose to someone, you go diving for oysters, and then you shuck it yourself and get the pearl from inside.  It's cheaper than a ring, but you have to work harder for it.  And the net isn't really like you're proposing, it's more like... saying you're really, really in love with someone, and that you want to get married eventually, but not right now.  You weave your own net, and you put either stuff that's special to you in it, or nice things you find." 

  Sylvia finds herself smiling as she listens to the boy.  She can practically see his mood change as he excitedly explains the tradition from four.  "What kind of stuff do you put in the net?" She asks, leaning on one arm.  

  "Like shells and stuff.  Sometimes driftwood that you carve designs into, or sea glass."  He suddenly gets really excited.  "I've seen people put dried up starfish in them, which I think is really cool!  Starfish are my favorite."  He exclaims, then moves his leg and pulls on his pants, showing her a hand-embroidered design on it that Sylvia had noticed on multiple occasions but never asked about.  Now that he's showing her, she leans down to look closer at it. 

  "That's a starfish?"  She asks, eyebrows furrowing.  She's never heard of... whatever the hell that thing is.  "Is it an animal?"  

  He nods, a smile still on his face.  All traces of sadness and worry are long gone.  "Yeah!  Well... kind of.  I don't remember the word we learned for it in school, but they don't have a backbone.  So... I guess they're not really animals?"  He seems to ponder the question for a moment, and then he shrugs, seemingly not caring enough to think much about it.  "I don't know.  They're cool, though!  Coral calls me 'starfish' sometimes."     

  Sylvia nods, the smile staying on her face as she watches him speak.  The nickname coral has for him warms her heart a little bit.  She's glad she can give him this.  One last night of childlike innocence and wonder before they go into the games.  Part of her hopes he survives so he can go back to four and see the starfish again.  

  "Coral's cool too, though.  Not as cool as starfish, but cooler than, like... regular fish."  He wrinkles his nose, as if the mere thought of fish disgusts him.  Sylvia's eyebrows furrow, and for a moment, she's confused.  Why was he comparing Coral to fish? 

  And then she remembers vaguely that coral is also something found in the ocean.  "Oh." She mutters to herself.  "That's what Coral's named after, I guess?"  She assumes, tilting her head in curiosity.  

  Nodding, Mizzen starts slapping the stick again.  Her gaze flickers from his face to the stick repeatedly, worrying that he'll slap it too hard against the rock, and it'll break and he'll get a splinter.  

  "Yeah.  I think her name's cool.  She's got a fish on her sleeve, though, like I've got a starfish on my pants.  She helps with catching and gutting the fish.  I don't like why she likes them so much."  He wrinkles his nose again.

  Sylvia nods.  "What's your job?"  She asks, gesturing to him with her hand.  

  "Mostly I just walk around the marina and help with carrying stuff, or tying off boats.  I'm not old enough to go out on them yet- not for deep sea fishing, anyway- so I just help the sailors with random stuff.  I make nets, too, though."  

  Humming in response, Sylvia nods.  She watches his demeanor for a few moments.  He looks distracted enough, and she wants to keep it that way.  She scrambles her mind for another question while Mizzen kicks his legs and slaps the stick against the rock.  After a moment, she finds one. 

  "You said Coral's name after... well, coral.  Are you named after anything?" 

  A shy little smile comes over his face, and he continues playing with the stick, poking it into the dirt over and over.  "Yeah.  Mizzen is a type of ship mast."  He answers sheepishly in a way that has her smiling.  

  Sitting up slightly, she tries to make a poor rendition of a ship with her hands- holding them together in somewhat of a 't' formation.  "Thats the, uh... the part that holds the sail, right?"  

  A giggle escapes his lips when he hears her poor attempt at explaining it.  "Yeah, it holds the sail."  He agrees with a giggle.  He goes quiet for a moment, and a thoughtful look takes over his face.  His hand stills, holding the stick somewhat limply.  Sylvia can tell he's thinking about something, so she waits patiently for him to speak.  

  Her gaze lands on a spot of dirt on his face, and she absentmindedly licks her thumb and reaches forward to wipe it away.  His nose crinkles for a moment, and then he relaxes again.  

  "So... going back to you and the lumberjack lady over there..."  He begins, pointing with his stick to Lamina.  His words make Sylvia giggle quietly.  "It's... kind of not a good time."  He says, his whole face shifting as he seemingly remembers the situation they're all in now. 

  Nodding, she reaches forward and pushes some hair behind his ear.  "Yeah,"  She agrees, "It's not."  

  He taps his stick lightly against the toe of his shoe.  "Are you gonna tell her?"  He asks.  

  Would she?  Sylvia contemplates the question, but she knows deep down that she won't.  After a second, she shakes her head.  "Nah." She says quietly.  

  Mizzen looks disappointed.  He pouts a little and sighs, as if he was really hoping she would.  He looks back over his shoulder at Lamina, then to Sylvia again.  "If you were gonna tell her, though... how would you do it?" 

  This time, Sylvia doesn't have to think about it.  "There's a tradition with Hunters,"  She explains, shifting slightly on the rock, "That the first time you go out and hunt something, you keep a trophy of it.  And later on in life, when you find someone you love so much that you want to spend the rest of your days with, you give it to them.  Sometimes it's the fur and they make some kind of clothing out of it, or they taxidermy it.  I chose to make jewelry out of my kills so I can carry them with me as a reminder.  My first kill was a mountain lion.  I kept the tooth- made it into a necklace." 

  Mizzen listens to her words, his smile growing as she speaks.  He leans forward to look at the necklaces that rest over her shawl.  "Which one is the tooth?"  He asks, examining them and then looking back up to Sylvia.  

  Sylvia tries to hold down a smile, fiddling with the hem of her shawl and not looking at the boy.  "She already has it."  She answers lowly.  "She doesn't know what it means- at least, I don't think she does.  Just thinks it's a good luck charm."  

  Smiling, Mizzen shifts closer to her, a light gleam of excitement in his eyes.  It quickly grows sad, though, when he sees the look on her face.  He moves so he's right next to her, and he rests his head on her shoulder.  "I'm sorry you can't... you know, be together.  I can tell you really love her." 

  Sylvia's heart clenches a little, both from his words, and the fact that he's right.  She reaches up and strokes the side of his head gently, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair.  "It's alright, sweet boy."  She mutters, "Don't worry about it."      

  There's a few minutes of comfortable silence between them in which she can feel Mizzen's shaky breathing as he lays on her shoulder.  His stick is on the ground forgotten as he plays with the stitching of his embroidered starfish, seemingly stuck in his own thoughts.  She can tell just by looking at him.  

  "You don't need to be nervous about tomorrow."  She assures him, stroking his hair.  "Coral's gonna protect you in the arena.  So are Treech and Tanner.  I won't be there with you, but they will.  You'll be alright."  She's not sure if her words are empty promises or not, but she knows there's at least some truth to them.  

  Mizzen exhales shakily, and she smiles softly down at him.  She glances over his face for a second, and then speaks.  "Are your ears pierced?"  She asks quietly.  

  The question makes him look up at her in confusion, his head lifting off her shoulder.  "What?  I- I mean, yeah, they are.  Why?" 

  Reaching up, she unhooks the back of one of her earrings- the rattlesnake fang one.  "You'll have this, instead of me, in the arena.  It's a rattlesnake fang."  She states, putting it in the palm of her hand as he leans over and examines it.  "There's a lot of myths about them in ten- we call them rattlers.  Lots of stories about healing properties or whatever, but there's a myth that says if someone gifts you the rattle on the end of a rattlesnake, no harm will come to you if that person is near.  This ain't the rattle, but it's probably better anyway." She says playfully.  

  Mizzen's face is lit up in a smile.  "Cool!"  He exclaims, then looks up at her.  "Can you do it?  I can't see."  He asks, pushing some of his hair behind his ear so she can see his ear piercing.  Sylvia obliges, carefully putting the earring through the hole in his ear and hooking it at the back.  

  When she pulls back, she's grinning slightly.  "Don't let Tanner see.  You'll scare him half to death."  She teases, watching as Mizzen reaches up and flicks it, rubbing the fang for a few seconds in wonderment before he pulls his hair back over it so it's out of sight.  

  The sound of his name being called grabs both of their attention.  Turning, she sees Coral standing next to Treech, looking at Mizzen expectantly as she waves him over.  

  Sylvia smiles softly at Mizzen.  "You should go.  I think she's waiting for you."  She says amusedly, nodding her head in Coral's direction.  The thought that this will be the last time she sees him before the games hits her hard and fast- so much so that she nearly gasps, the smile on her face disappearing quickly.  

  He laughs at her comment, but then seems to come to the same realization.  He worries his lip as he stands, his fists clenching the fabric of his pants as he looks at her hesitantly.  She sees his eyes gloss over, and her next action is immediate.  

  Standing, she pulls him into a hug, her arms wrapping around his torso as she presses her lips to the side of his head.  "It'll be alright, sweet boy."  She mutters, feeling his arms wrap around her as he buries his head in her shoulder.  "You'll be fine.  You've got Coral, and Tanner and Treech.  And you've got me in spirit."  

  He squeezes her tight for the last time and then pulls back, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve again.  Nodding, he glances over her face.  "Okay."  He glances over his shoulder to where Lamina is.  Then he looks back to Sylvia.  "I hope you guys will be okay."  He says quietly. His parting words to her before the games.    

  A second later, he walks off, navigating around the rock and carrying his stick as he goes back over to Coral.  Sylvia follows him with her eyes as much as she can, given that it's getting dark and she won't be able to see all that well soon.  As she does, she sees another form walking towards her.  She smiles sadly when she recognizes the mass of leather and fabric coming over to her.  

  "How you doin'?"  She asks as Tanner sits on the rock by her side.  Her feet remain planted on the ground as she turns to look at him. 

  She sees the sad look in his eyes as he glances over her face, then to the bruise on her cheek.  

  "You know, I wasn't sure about your little alliance,"  Tanner starts with a small smile on his face, nodding his head to where Lamina sits, "But then that asshole capitol kid slapped you.  And the way she stood up without hesitating, how she tried to go after him... I thought she was gonna kill him for you.  I certainly wanted to.  So did Mizzen."  He chuckles, and the memory of both Tanner and Mizzen yelling after she got slapped hits her, making her laugh a little as well.

  Sylvia smiles softly, looking over at Lamina, her eyes softening.  "That's what she told me.  Said she wanted to hit him so hard that he could never touch me again."  

  "You know what I think?"  Tanner muses after a second, his gaze set on her face with an amused little smile.  "I think you like her.  Maybe more than that."  

  Sylvia groans, rolling her eyes and looking back to him.  "Christ, not you, too."  She groans.  How the hell had both Mizzen and Tanner figured it out so quick?  Was she that obvious?  

  Tanner chuckles, crossing one of his legs over the other.  "Don't worry, I won't bother you about it."  He laments, then seems to sober up a bit.  "You nervous?" 

  Shrugging, Sylvia leans back slightly and glances up.  The stars are starting to come out.  Not that she can see them that well, anyway.  "I mean... I think I've accepted it, you know?  I can't really be nervous for myself when I already know what my outcome will be.  But... I'm nervous for the others- for Lamina, for you, for Mizzen..."  She's not sure if she's making any sense, her emotions are so riled up like a storm inside her.  But Tanner just nods.  

  "Yeah, I understand."  He drawls.  His accent is calming to her- one of the last things she has of home.  One of the last things she has to remember district ten by.  

  "What do you miss the most about it?"  She asks, because she already knows he misses ten, there's no question about it.  "About ten, I mean."  She clarifies.

  Sighing thoughtfully, Tanner tilts his head.  "The animals, I think.  The sound of 'em, taking care of 'em.  Not so much killing 'em, of course, but... watching over 'em on my Pa's farm."  Then he chuckles, shaking his head.  "And the barn dances.  I'm gonna miss the barn dances."

  The mention of it makes Sylvia laugh, and she shakes her head as she brings a hand up to lazily cover her face.  "The barn dances?"  She repeats incredulously, chuckling.  "Yeah, I'll miss them, too." She admits, tilting her head as the two of them both look at the pathway outside the enclosure, looking at it but not really seeing.  In her mind, she sees the barn dances; people singing up on stage and everyone line dancing and having fun and kissing in darkened corners.  

  "I think..."  She breathes deep, inhaling the night air and sighing.  The sound of crickets and cicadas is almost deafening.  "I'm gonna miss the canyon the most.  The desert.  Goin' out there and nothin' being around for as far as the eye can see.  The freedom I felt bein' out there, on my own.  The clouds.  The sky."  She doesn't realize she's starting to tear up until she subconsciously wipes the tear off her cheek, sniffing and sitting up, eyes darting around in an attempt to distract herself. 

  "Anyway," She continues, sitting up fully and turning to face him, "I've got somethin' for you."  Tanner watches her curiously, his interest now piqued at the notion of her giving him something.  She takes a section of her hair, grabbing it blindly until her fingers brush along one of the couple of feathers she has braided into her hair.  She pulls it over her shoulder, undoing the braid quickly and taking the feather out. 

  She examines it in the dim lighting that remains in the enclosure, and then turns to him.  "It's a turkey vulture feather.  Symbolizes protection."  She mutters to him as she reaches up and tucks it into the leather band that circles his hat, ensuring it doesn't slip.  She smiles a little as she leans back and looks at it.  "We match now."  She teases lightly, running her fingers along the feathers that are on her own hat.  

  Tanner gives her a little grin as he reaches up and brushes his new addition.  "That we do."  He lets his hand drop as he glances towards Coral, who's talking to Treech and not paying any attention to them.  His gaze then flickers over his shoulder to Lamina.  Sighing, he looks back to Sylvia.  "Really, though.  I'm... I'm glad you found someone you can trust.  Even if... you know.  Even if it is only for a little bit."  

  And there it is.  She feels herself tearing up again.  Leaning forward, she hugs Tanner, feeling his arms wrap around her almost immediately.  She rests her chin on his shoulder, sighing.  "You're a good person, Tanner Mullen."  She mutters into his ear, voice earnest.  She means it when she says it, despite whatever will happen in the games tomorrow.  Whatever he does, he'll always be a good person, just like the rest of them will.   

  He's quiet for a moment, and then he pulls back, one of his hands on her forearm.  "You are... the bravest person I know, Sylvia Thornton."  He replies, expression and voice truthful.  He couldn't lie if he wanted to.  His words cause her to give him a watery smile.  

  And then he's standing and giving her one last goodbye.  She follows his lead, standing up and brushing off her skirt.  When they walk away in two different directions, it feels like more than just a physical separation.  It feels like she's walking away from the last remnant of her district that she has.  The thought pains her, that the only thing she has to remember her district by is walking away to the people who may or may not kill her tomorrow.  Her thoughts continue as she walks over to her own partner.  

  Lamina asks her something, her voice snapping Sylvia out of her thoughts as she approaches their little rock.

  "Hm?"  She hums, not quite having heard the question that Lamina asked her.  She sits down on the ground next to her, leaning against the rock.  

  "Are you okay?"  Lamina repeats, eyebrows furrowing as she glances at Sylvia.  Her eyes seem to catch onto something, but she doesn't comment as she waits for Sylvia to answer.  

  Nodding, she offers the auburn haired girl a small smile.  "I'm fine, sweetheart."  The nickname slips past her lips easily, as if she's been saying it for an eternity.  "Don't worry your pretty little head about it."  Her hand finds Lamina's on the ground between them, interlocking their fingers and sitting so their shoulders are pressed up against one another.  

  She brings their joined hands to rest on her thigh as she plays distractedly with Lamina's fingers.  She rubs her thumb along her skin, feeling the callouses and small, microscopic scars on her hand caused by years of woodwork.  She doesn't want to think about all the kids that will be dead in a few days- how she'll be dead in a few days.  

  The sound of Lamina humming draws her attention, and she turns her head to face her.  Lamina's eyebrows are furrowed slightly, and she reaches forward with her free hand to grab a section of Sylvia's hair and rub it between her fingers.  "You're missing a feather."  She notes quietly, dropping her hair as her eyes flicker to Sylvia's left ear.  "And an earring."  

  The fact that Lamina noticed those details so quickly- noticed them at all- doesn't slip past Sylvia.  She smiles, nodding slightly.  "Yeah.  Gave the earring to Mizzen, the feather to Tanner.  Good luck charms."  She muses, reaching forward with her free hand and gently grabbing the mountain lion tooth necklace that sits against Lamina's chest, rubbing her thumb over it.  "Like this."  She says.  But it's not like that.  It's different.  Even if Lamina doesn't know the significance of the necklace, Sylvia does.  And Mizzen, too, she supposes.  Maybe Tanner, but she's not sure.  

  Lamina nods, tilting her head to rest on Sylvia's shoulder.  Her breath and the night air mingle together on Sylvia's skin and she can't tell the difference between the two anymore.  Lamina squeezes her hand, and Sylvia immediately glances around their general area for anything that might be making her nervous.  

  But she doesn't see anything, instead she hears Lamina's quiet voice.  "Can I give you something?"  

  She feels Lamina slipping her hand out of hers before Sylvia's even answered the question, fingers moving underneath the sleeve of her shirt.  

  "You don't have to."  Sylvia assures quietly, her chin resting gently on Lamina's head.  The auburn strands tickle her skin lightly, and she brings her hand up to card through Lamina's hair.    

  "I want to."  Lamina affirms, and Sylvia watches as her fingers hook onto a bracelet, pulling it out from under her sleeve gently and off her wrist.  She holds it in her hand and shows it to Sylvia.  When she looks at it closer, she sees it's a series of wooden beads all tied on a leather cord to form a bracelet.  On each of the beads is some sort of design that Sylvia can't quite make out in the limited lighting.  

  "Everyone in seven gets one when they're born."  Lamina explains gently, rolling the wooden spheres around in between her fingers.  "Each bead has a letter on it spelling out the person's name.  Members of the family- or people important to the family- make the beads, and then they're strung together when the person is born.  You carry it with you your whole life, and   then-"  She goes to continue, then hesitates.  "Never mind.  Just... it means a lot, is what I'm trying to say, I guess."  

  Sylvia can tell there's more to it than just that, but she doesn't comment.  It's meaningful enough that Lamina is telling her this, and even more meaningful that she's giving it to her.  She doesn't say anything as Lamina grabs her hand and slips the bracelet onto her wrist, turning it so the letters on the beads face upwards.  Now that she's said it, Sylvia can partially make out the letters spelling out Lamina's name.  It sits just above the scorpion body bracelet wrapped around her wrist.  Sylvia examines it for a moment, and then turns to Lamina.  

  "Thank you."  She mutters earnestly, with more emotion than she's ever put into any two other words in her life.  She feels like crying.  She holds her hand gently at the back of Laminas head and presses her lips to her hair, just above her ear.

  Lamina sighs contentedly, shifting her head to be more comfortable on Sylvia's shoulder.  She gives her a single nod in response, but she doesn't have to respond with words for Sylvia to know what she means.  Lamina links her arm through Sylvia's cradling it near her body as they shift to settle down for the night.  

  Her hand finds Lamina's again, their fingers interlocking like its muscle memory, an urge placed into their bones from birth.  As the dark settles in and the two of them start to give in to their tiredness, Sylvia traces the three words over Lamina's hand again and again.  

'I love you'.

'I love you'.

'I love you'.

Notes:

arena chapters start next chapter who's excited ??!!! be honest!!! I know you're all so thrilled and excited for what I have planned!!!

"'You don't need to be nervous about tomorrow.' She assures him, stroking his hair. 'Coral's gonna protect you in the arena. So are Treech and Tanner. I won't be there with you, but they will. You'll be alright.' She's not sure if her words are empty promises or not, but she knows there's at least some truth to them." Y'all I think I'm so fucking funny for this and you'll find out why soon enough

once again, my prophetic dreams and psychic abilities have given me foresight and ideas for what to do next its gonna be so fun!!!

 

Sylvia can't talk about her feelings so she settles for giving jewelry and accessories like the icon she is

also like mizzen is her fuckin child bro and im gonna put them through HELL for the fun of it

lmfaoooo and Sylvia basically proposing to lamina with the necklace and lamina not having the slightest clue made me giggle when I first wrote it

I also want y'all to know that I just copy and pasted all these chapters before and including this one from wattpad, so...

Chapter 13: the games

The next morning, Sylvia is the first awake.  She's had fitful sleep all night, too caught up in her anxiety and worry to have a good night's rest.  She knows many- if not all- of the tributes are the same way, because she's only awake for a few moments before Lamina shifts next to her, stirring out of unconsciousness.  Then the others slowly start to wake up, and before long, they're all sitting in the enclosure, waiting to be dragged off to the arena.  

  Lamina's only been awake for a few moments before she seems to remember the situation she's in, and her breathing quickens, hands shaking and desperately shooting around her as if they're looking for something.  On a limb, Sylvia stretches out her hand so it's in Lamina's immediate vicinity, and immediately the other girl is grabbing onto and holding it for dear life.  Their fingers interlock as they have so many times before, and Sylvia's moving closer to Lamina before the girl's even uttered a word. 

  Sylvia sees the furrow of her eyebrows, the trembling of her lip, the small wrinkle she gets next to her lip when she's upset and about to cry.  Her eyes glass over with unshed tears, and Sylvia's already moving her free hand to cup the side of Lamina's face gently, brushing her thumb over her cheekbone.  

  "Hey, it's alright, sweetheart." She murmurs, voice gentle and as sweet as she can make it, like honey.  "We'll be alright."  

  As if to dispute her claim, the door to the enclosure bangs open, peacekeepers rushing in before most of the tributes are even awake.  Lamina's grip on her hand increases tenfold, and Sylvia is about ready for the peacekeepers to come and shackle them, when she notices that they're not approaching any of the tributes.  Instead, they take up a formation near the door and the surrounding walls, and Sylvia's curious eyes turn towards the door again as a woman she's never seen before walks in. 

  She's dressed smartly, in a white jacket with what looks to be a small medical bag tucked under her arm.  She takes note of the white, rigged scar on the woman's face, going from the bottom of her left eyebrow to the corner of her lip.  It's jagged enough that Sylvia knows it wasn't done by a sharp knife or blade, so either some kind of dull, serrated knife, or some kind of animal.  Either way, it makes the woman memorable.

  As the woman walks in, Sylvia squeezes Lamina's hand, watching as one of the peacekeepers steps out of formation to accompany the woman to the middle of the enclosure.  

  "I hope you're all having a fine morning."  The woman starts, and by that sentence alone, Sylvia wants to punch her in the face, "I'm going to bring around a pill for each of you.  It's a supplement to make you all look livelier for the audience on camera.  Make you look less..."  She grimaces as she takes a look around at them, at their pale, gaunt faces, "...deathly."  She finishes, shaking her head and knocking the expression off her face.  

  Of course, Sylvia thinks.  Give them a fucking vitamin supplement to make them more marketable for sponsors, make it so they look nice and pretty when they're fighting to the death and killing each other in that arena.  

  She doesn't even realize her anger is growing that much until she feels Lamina's free hand reaching under her shawl and grabbing onto her arm, squeezing slightly as she rubs her thumb over her skin.  Sylvia turns, her anger dissipating slightly as she offers Lamina a small smile.  She places her free hand on top of Lamina's wrist, rubbing her thumb over her before she turns back to the woman. 

  The doctor- or whoever she is- goes to the nearest tributes- Dill and Reaper.  Dill takes the pill offered to her and stares nervously at it in the palm of her hand, looking up to Reaper for assurance as he's given one of his own.  Though he looks less than pleased, he nods, and the two of them take it and swallow it.  

  Just as Sylvia's considering hiding the pill under her tongue and spitting it out before they get to the arena- just as a silent act of rebellion, even if she's the only one that knows about it- the woman has Dill and Reaper lift their tongues, seemingly checking to make sure they actually swallowed it. 

  Well, so much for that plan.  

  The woman makes her way around the enclosure, and it takes her all of two minutes until she reaches Lamina and Sylvia.  When she does, the peacekeeper accompanying her stiffens up slightly, his hand moving just an inch or so closer to the safety switch on his rifle.  The woman, however, looks unfazed, simply handing Lamina and Sylvia a pill each, waiting for them to swallow it, and then checking to make sure they actually did.  

  Sylvia watches them leave, and wrinkles her nose in disgust.  Scoffing, she turns back to Lamina, still holding her hand.  "Have I told you that I can't fuckin' stand the people here?"

  Her comment elicits a small snort out of Lamina, who quickly uses her free hand to cover her face.  "I thought it went without saying."  Lamina mutters back, which makes Sylvia smile.  

  "Yeah, you're right, sweetheart."  She murmurs, a small smile growing on her face at the sound of Lamina's quiet laughter that only she hears.  Part of her wouldn't mind if it's the last thing she hears.  

  The woman's voice breaks her out of her reverie, and annoyance instantly replaces her joy.  "You all have about twenty minutes before you're picked up, so make the most of it!"  The woman says cheerily, as if she's sending them all to some fucking summer camp and not a fight to the death.  

  With that, the peacekeepers and the woman walk back out through the door, slamming it shut behind them.  She feels Lamina reinstate her grip on her hand, fingers flexing to get a better hold as Sylvia turns to her with furrowed eyebrows.  

  "What if we can't get to each other in time?"  Lamina mutters, gaze pointedly fixed on the ground.  "What if we get cut off and we have to go in different directions?  Or I'm not fast enough and someone gets to me first?  Or-"

  Sylvia's lips pull deeper into a frown with each question asked, until she finally cuts the other girl off.  "Hey, no one's gonna get to you before I do."  She states, dipping her head to look Lamina in the eye.  "And if by some chance we do get separated, I'll find you.  You hear me?  I'll find you.  You know I will."

  Lamina hesitates, her whole body tensing as she clenches Sylvia's hand slightly.  But then she nods- so slight Sylvia almost doesn't see it.  "Okay."  She whispers lowly, as if she's trying to make herself believe it.  

  And like the woman said, twenty minutes later, peacekeepers are opening the door again, dragging them up and out of the enclosure and to the back of a truck.  

  As she's dragged out the door- Lamina in front of her- she throws one last look at the enclosure.  The last place she would ever know before she'd be in a hunt, a game of life and death... but mostly death. 

  The back of the truck is cramped and dark like always, and Lamina squeezes her hand tighter than she ever has before, her breathing starting to quicken before Sylvia leans in and starts muttering mindless reassurances into her ear, which seems to calm her down at least a little.

  Those few minutes in which they're driving to the arena are the worst minutes of Sylvia's life.  More than the reaping, more than the bombing, more than anything.  Lamina's crying- silently, with a few tears streaming down her face... but it doesn't change the fact that she's still crying.  This time, though, she's not the only one.  She hears little Wovey on the other side of the truck sniffling and crying, and she thinks she might hear Bobbin, as well.  She sees one of the unfamiliar tributes holding her hand over her mouth as she tries to stifle her cries- Teslee, she thinks her name is.  

  When the truck stops and they're all hauled out, she notes that there's a particular order.  Not district order, but they're making sure to keep district partners separated, as well as anyone who had made an obvious alliance.  Coral, Tanner, Mizzen, and Treech are separated and dragged out of the truck in separate groups- all groups of three, she notes.  

  All groups of three except for her and Dill, who are the last to be taken out of the truck.  Once they're out, the peacekeepers are bringing them all towards the arena, and the walk from the street to the building itself is nothing but a blurry memory to Sylvia.  It's like she's having an out of body experience- at least, this is what she imagines one of those would feel like.  Like she's not quite there, but she's still aware.  Everything seems fake, like she's gonna wake up any moment back in the Hunter's bunk house in district ten and go riding out to the canyon on Cash. 

  And then she hears that stupid fucking voice ringing in her ears, and she knows this is all too real.  

'Enjoy the show'.

  Yeah, enjoy the fucking show, assholes.  She knows they probably will.  All the goddamn capitol people watching from their couches in their homes and betting on them like it's some kind of fucking horse race.  If she could, she'd stick her boot up every one of their ass-

  A dry cough snaps her out of her thoughts, and she turns to Dill, whom she'd forgotten was there.  The peacekeepers that follow them nudge their rifles into Sylvia's back, urging her without words to move quicker.  She staggers forward, catching herself easily enough, and looks to Dill.  

  "Dill, hun."  Sylvia calls softly, careful not to say anything more than that for fear that the peacekeepers will shoot her before the games have even begun.  The girl looks to her, eyes wide and desperate, chapped lips trembling as her hands shake.  Sylvia tries to communicate with her eyes that it'll be okay, but she's not sure if the message relays quite as well as she was hoping for.  

  They're shoved onto red dots with their district number roughly painted on it, and her first instinct is to look around the circle of all the tributes for Lamina.  She hopes she's not on the opposite side of the cornucopia, but thankfully she's not.  Diagonally across the circle, she sees the auburn haired girl, her form shaking as she cries.  

  Sylvia breathes shakily, both from nerves and anger.  Looking around the rest of the circle, she tries to get some semblance of an idea of where everyone is.  She shakes her hands slightly in an attempt to calm her nerves, and somewhere in the back of her mind she processes that there's the threat of being shot if they step off their circle.  

  Her eyes land on Reaper, his looming figure only three spots away from Lamina.  He's already looking at her, and it doesn't come as much of a surprise.  From this distance, she can't see much of his face, let alone what direction he's looking, but she can feel his intense stare.  She nods her head once, trying to communicate that she'll get Dill to him.  If she's already running that way to get to Lamina, she at least wants Dill to be safe, and she'll be damned if she lets the girl get slaughtered right next to her.  

  In the midst of her planning, she completely misses the structure behind the cornucopia.  Two large pieces of stone jutting up vertically from the ground, and a long horizontal slab of stone connecting the two of them, forming a beam.  If nothing else, it could be a good place for her and Lamina to go.  She's confident she's able to climb up it, mostly because she's had her fair share of ascending up canyon walls or desert mountains.  She knows for a fact Lamina could climb it, too.  If she had to guess, she doesn't think many other tributes would be able to get up there. 

  She quickly realizes there's more to the structure than just a good vantage point.  Mostly she realizes by the groan someone lets out, and the gasp that follows it.  When her gaze drifts to some of the other tributes, she sees their shocked expressions as they look at the beam.  

  From where she is, she can't see the center of it- blocked by the high point of the cornucopia.  Her eyebrows furrow, and she takes the risk of leaning to the side slightly, being careful not to move her feet for fear of being shot dead. 

  That's when she sees him.  Marcus- she remembers his name is- the tribute from 2 who had run when the arena was bombed.  There were rumors circulating that he made it into the tunnels underneath the city.  Clearly he was found, because there he is.  Clear as day, though it would be hard to tell its him if not for his clothes.  His face has been beaten badly, she can tell even from this distance.  Even across the arena, she sees the mess of red and purple that used to be his face.  She can only imagine what he looks like up close- he's probably not even alive.  Part of her doesn't want to find out. 

  She forces her gaze away from the body and back to the cornucopia.  Though she doesn't want to fight, she knows she'll need a weapon.  She tries to see what there is from where she stands, and her eyes catch onto the short glint of metal.  Conveniently, it's placed on the edge of the cornucopia straight ahead of her.  She's easily the closest person to it, which means she can make out the shape of the hunting knife wedged between two of the rocks.  Some part of her thinks it's there to tempt her.  

  But she can't risk that.  The plan is to get to Lamina first.  That's the only surety in her mind right now.  Get to Lamina, and keep her alive.  If they happened to have the opportunity to grab a weapon- great. 

  For a moment- just a moment- she allows herself a moment of longing and nostalgia.  One last moment before she'll really, truly be fighting for her life.  Her eyes shut, and she imagines the sun on her skin, the warm wind blowing through the desert.  She imagines the feeling of Cash's coat under her hand, and of the familiar hilt of her hunting knife clenched in her fist.  She thinks of the night sky and of the constellations that she'll never get to see again- that she hopes Lamina will one day get to see.  She thinks of that lake Lamina told her about- the lake between the mountains, surrounded by trees.  Of how it would look at night when the only thing reflecting on the surface is the stars and the moon.  She remembers the sound of the canyon, of the wind traveling through the gorge.  The expanse of the desert for hundreds of miles in any direction, of the expanse of the sky for more than that.

  And then it's over.  Her allowed moment of nostalgia and hope is gone.  The reality of her situation replaces it.     

  Her eyes flicker to Lamina once more as the sound of the countdown echoes throughout the arena, the peacekeepers already having backed away past the entrances and turnstiles.  She runs through her plan in her head as the numbers count down.  For some reason, the countdown seems fast- faster than she was expecting.  Her hands clench at her sides as she rolls her shoulders back, body leaning slightly towards Dill.  She's counting how many steps it will take to get to the girl- just two long steps, grab the girl's arm, and from there it would be as fast as a run as she could manage to get to where Lamina and Reaper are. 

  Five.

  Grab Dill.

  Four. 

  Run to Lamina.

  Three.  

  Get Dill to Reaper.

  Two. 

  Grab Lamina. 

  One. 

  Run. 

  The buzzer sounds throughout the arena, and the only thing she can think of as the games start is the canyon wind.

Notes:

sorry I haven't updated this in a while... I low-key forgot I was publishing this on ao3 as well as Wattpad

Chapter 14: the bloodbath

All the tributes around her run to the cornucopia, the sounds of yelling and screaming immediately filling the arena. Sylvia ignores the center structure, and instead makes the pre-calculated two steps to Dill as fast as she can. The girl hasn't moved, too scared and too weak from her sickness to run.

Sylvia grabs her arm, immediately pulling Dill in the direction of Lamina and Reaper. Dill gasps and stumbles, but Sylvia catches her, keeping her pace fast. She sees Reaper grabbing something from the cornucopia- some kind of long sword, and she can only hope that he doesn't slaughter her with it as soon as Dill's within his reach.

Lamina's running towards her, steps staggering as her eyes widen at the bloodshed that's already happening. Not even a minute into the games and the cornucopia is a bloodbath. Sylvia thinks she yells her name but she's not quite sure. Everything is a blur and the only thing she's sure of is that Dill's arm is still clutched firmly in hers.

And then suddenly Lamina is there, and everything feels somewhat okay. Most of her anxiety and worry depletes because the only person that matters is standing right in front of her.

There's screaming, and then someone's yelling, and Sylvia turns just in time to see one of the unfamiliar tributes running at them, some kind of curved blade in his hand as he makes to slice at them. Reacting on instinct, Sylvia shoves Lamina backwards and then throws herself back, pulling Dill with her. The boy runs through and slashes the empty air where they were standing a half-second prior, his momentum making it impossible for him to alter his course.

He turns, and Sylvia gets ready to try and disarm him. But she doesn't get the chance, because then Reaper's there, yelling in fury as he slashes the boy's blade with his own, throwing the metal clean across the floor. The boy has the sense to look scared and run, and Reaper has the sense not to chase after him.

Sylvia hands Dill off to Reaper, making sure that she's okay as she does. Lamina's moving back over to her, one of her hands latching around Sylvia's wrist as she surveys the bloodbath worriedly, her breathing quickening.

"You protect her!" Sylvia yells to Reaper, and then she's running off, dragging Lamina with her as their feet slam against the floor of the arena.

She guides them around the circle- aiming to get towards the stands before anyone can notice them- but that plan is quickly thrown out when she sees two of the unfamiliar tributes working together to kill another one just a few yards in front of them.

Changing course, she pivots to see the direction they just came from is already blocked by other tributes- none of whom she knows the names of- slaughtering each other and looking to spill more blood.

The only open path is towards the cornucopia, which is exactly where she didn't want to go, but there's no choice. Sylvia turns towards the structure, and her eyes instantly land on something she hadn't seen before- a gap in between two of the pieces of stone, that from any other angle look stuck together. There's no doubt in her mind that her and Lamina can wedge themselves inside of there and hide. She knows Lamina sees it, too, by the way her hand tightens on Sylvia wrist.

"I see it." Sylvia says, snapping around to face Lamina, pulling her in front of her and pushing her shoulder. "Go!"

And then they're both running, Sylvia behind Lamina. There's a clear path towards where they're going, and she doubts it'll remain clear for much longer. The distraction of slaughtering the other tributes is enough for no one to pay them mind as they run towards the cornucopia.

She sees Lamina swipe an axe off a slab of stone without slowing down her run, and she sees the hunting knife from earlier- the handle of it still jutting out from the rock. As soon as she's within reach, she grabs it, gripping it so tight her knuckles turn a bare white.

Adrenaline is pumping through her body and she can hear her heartbeat pounding in her head. There's screams and blood splattering all around them. She doesn't know who's alive and who's dead, except for herself and Lamina.

The two of them scramble up the rocks, and Sylvia narrowly misses a slash from someone's blade. Her eyes stick to Lamina as she grows closer and closer to the gap in between the stones...

And then she's gone, jumping into the gap and disappearing from Sylvia's sight, only to reappear once Sylvia follows her in, jumping into it without a second thought.

The gap, as it turns out, leads to a small hollowed out area in the center of the cornucopia. It's small, so small that it just barely fits the two of them, and the only light comes from a few minuscule holes in the rocks around them. Sylvia tucks her knees as close to her body as she can while making the least amount of noise.

Above and around them, the screaming continues. Lamina opens her mouth to say something, and Sylvia quickly places her hand over her lips, shaking her head. She struggles to control her breathing as she keeps her eyes on the hole that was just big enough for them both to squeeze through. While some of the bigger tributes would have no chance of getting in here- Reaper, Jessup, or even Tanner- some of the smaller ones would be able to. Those two tributes from district five looked skinny enough to manage, and she knew that there were others who could, too.

Lowering her hand from Lamina's mouth, she blindly reaches for her hand instead. A second later she feels Lamina's fingers interlocking with hers, her hand shaking as they both try to control their breathing.

As much as she had been thinking about what the games would be like, nothing on earth could have prepared her for that. The instant that buzzer sounded, it was like they all became different people.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she forces the thought out of her head. It's not their fault. Not their fault that the capitol forced them into the games. It's not their fault that they're all scared kids who just want to go home.

Something wet and warm drips onto the hand that grips her knife, and when she opens her eyes, she has to hold back the gasp that threatens to slip past her lips. She looks at the blood on her hand, then up to the slab of stone above them. More specifically, to the blood seeping through the crack. It's far from her first time seeing blood, but something about knowing that it's from a human and not an animal feels different to her.

She feels Lamina lean forward to see, and doesn't have to see the girl to know what the expression on her face looks like. There's a tug on her other hand, and then Lamina uses her free hand to hold onto Sylvia's arm, pulling her backwards and into her, away from the blood that drips from the ceiling. She doesn't even want to think of who's body is above them- who's bodies are around them, too.

The screams have lessened, and she hears the distinct voice of Lucy Gray in the near distance yelling at someone to run- probably her district partner. And then there's multiple footsteps and more yelling- the kind of yell that she can tell is out for blood.

She remains quiet, but her mind is reeling. There's no doubt in her mind that none of the other tributes know about this little hiding spot. From the outside, it looks like a pile of rocks with nothing inside. And the entrance they jumped through is only visible from certain angles. If they wanted, they could probably wait out the games in here. There's only one entry point, so small that only certain people could get through. It's an easy enough spot to defend.

But then she thinks about it more, and as her eyes adjust to the darkness of the space, she picks out little flaws in the plan. There's no telling how stable the cornucopia is above them- there's always the chance it can collapse in on them at any point. And now she can see small holes in between rocks where the light filters in. If someone outside was looking hard enough, they'd be able to see the two of them. And then they'd really be cornered.

With one of her hands interlocked with Lamina's, the two of them sit in silence as their ears strain to hear any sound at all. After a few minutes of nothing but silence, Sylvia turns to Lamina.

"We can't stay in here." She whispers softly. The sound would've been incomprehensible with how quietly she says it, but there's no other noise around them to block her words. "We could go to the stands?"

Lamina opens her mouth, then closes it. She's got that look on her face that tells Sylvia she's mulling over an idea, and Sylvia remains quiet to let Lamina think. A few moments go by, and then, "We can't leave him like that." Even with the whisper, Sylvia can tell how shaky her voice is.

Sylvia's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Who?" She turns her body so she's facing Lamina fully.

"The boy on the beam- Marcus, I think his name was. The one who ran when the bombs went off." Lamina replies quietly, and Sylvia's eyes widen in realization. In the chaos of the bloodbath, she had forgotten all about him- about his body hanging from that beam by his wrists.

"He's alive?" She whispers somewhat incredulously due to her own surprise. With how bad he looked, Sylvia would never have guessed that he was breathing.

"I saw his chest moving. He was groaning- like he was in pain." Lamina whispers shakily, her hand squeezing Sylvia's. "I just... I can't leave him like that." Her eyes are wide, eyebrows pursed, like she's begging Sylvia to understand. And Sylvia does.

Nodding, Sylvia rubs her thumb over the back of Lamina's hand. She doesn't even realize she's spelling out 'I love you' anymore. "Okay. We'll... we'll put him out of his misery, yeah?" She tries to make it sound better. But that's what it is. A mercy killing. "We-"

The abrupt sound of voices from somewhere in the arena cuts off her words, and she immediately snaps her mouth shut. Freezing, she squeezes Lamina's hand as the other girl's breath hitches. She strains her ears to try and identify the voices.

For a moment, it's incomprehensible due to the distance and volume at which the people are talking. There's the sound of multiple footsteps, and then suddenly the words become identifiable.

"I hope Sylvia's okay." She hears Mizzen mutter, and then the distinct sound of a rock being kicked across the floor. Sylvia's heart clenches at the sound of his voice and his words. His tone sounds dejected, and for a moment she considers jumping out of the little hole and hugging him, letting him know she's alright. But she can't. And she doesn't.

Lamina's hand squeezes hers tighter, her thumb brushing over Sylvia's knuckles, as if she can hear the girl's thoughts.

"I'm sure she's fine, Starfish." Coral's voice responds. "She's smart. She'll probably have found somewhere to hide and wait it out. Her and lumberjack's friend." Sylvia can only assume 'lumberjack' is Treech, and the friend Coral's referring to is Lamina.

The footsteps grow closer, but don't quite reach the cornucopia. There's more than two pairs, and Sylvia takes the chance to peek through one of the holes in the rock surrounding them. She sees Coral and Mizzen walking past the cornucopia, and behind them, Treech and Tanner. The two older boys aren't talking, but Sylvia catches sight of the worried look on Tanner's face when Mizzen talks about her.

"Yeah." Mizzen muses half-heartedly, kicking a rock. Sylvia watches as he lazily swings a net around- where the hell had he gotten a net?- as if to distract himself. "Sylvia really likes her. I hope they're both okay. Sylvia looks at her how you used to look at... what was her name? Mags, I think? Your old girlfriend?"

Sylvia watches as Coral's eyes widen, and even from this distance she can see her face flush a bright red that almost rivals the color of her hair. She slaps a hand over Mizzen's mouth, which only makes the boy giggle as he half-heartedly tries to escape her grip. "Alright, Starfish, that's enough outta you."

Behind them, Treech chuckles as he carries his axe. Tanner stills looks worried, but he smirks amusedly. The four of them start talking again, but Sylvia can no longer make out the words as they approach another one of the tunnel entrances and carefully navigate down under the floor.

As soon as they're out of sight, Sylvia turns to Lamina. "We gotta go now." She says in a hushed whisper, nodding and squeezing Lamina's hand.

Lamina nods quietly, settling her axe in her lap for a moment in order to wipe at the few tears on her cheeks. Sylvia wonders why she didn't just let go of her hand to wipe them away instead of letting go of her axe, but she chooses not to think too much about it. When Lamina reinstates her grip on her axe, only then does Sylvia move up into a crouch and start making her way out of the cornucopia.

She stops at the bottom of the entrance and turns to Lamina, letting go of her hand and tucking her hunting knife into her belt. "I'll go first. If something goes wrong, stay in here." The rest of it goes unsaid. Don't try and help me if I'm attacked. Let me lay down and die.

Lamina hesitates, then seems to remember how stubborn Sylvia can be, and she just nods.

Climbing out of the cornucopia proves to be easier than Sylvia originally may have thought. She crawls up the small incline, then pulls herself through the small hole, using her upper body strength to climb out into the arena again. She finds her footing and steps off the cornucopia, onto the rubble-covered floor. She watches where she walks, making sure not to make a sound, the way she had been taught to walk by the Hunters in 10.

She keeps her head on a swivel, and after a moment of examination, deems it safe enough for Lamina to come out. Nodding vaguely towards the entrance, she switches her gaze to the beam a few yards away.

From here, it's almost painstakingly obvious that the boy- Marcus, she reminds herself- is alive. She can hear the slight shuddering of his breath if she strains her ears hard enough, and the blood is still flowing slightly from his wounds. His chest shakes as he breathes, and Sylvia wouldn't doubt that there's some major bodily damage going on outside and inside, thanks to the Capitol.

A few pebbles are kicked around as Lamina follows Sylvia out of the cornucopia, looking around the arena as she approaches the bottom of the beam. Sylvia follows her gaze to one of the pillars holding it up, her eyes finding footholds and small cracks in the rock she could probably manage to wedge her hands into.

If she zones out enough, she can almost imagine the pillar of rock is a part of a canyon wall. The thought makes her jaw clench, and she looks back to Lamina.

"You go first." She mutters quietly, watching the redhead slip her axe into her belt similar to the way Sylvia did. She wants Lamina to go first, both so that if she falls, Sylvia can catch her, but also in case of any attacks from the ground, Sylvia will be the one getting injured.

Watching, Sylvia's slightly amazed by the ease and grace in which Lamina climbs the pillar. Actually, entranced is probably a better word. She'd barely given it a once over before she was finding places to put her feet and hands, pulling herself up as if she weighed less than air. Within a few seconds, she's pulled herself up halfway, and Sylvia can't really do anything else except follow.

It's easy for Sylvia to follow Lamina up, maybe not with as much ease and grace as Lamina has demonstrated, but easy nonetheless. Every few seconds, she glances around the arena below them to make sure no one's coming out for an ambush, and then she glances up to Lamina to make sure she's still alright.

All's well for a couple of moments, until Lamina is gripping the pillar in order to step onto the beam, and Sylvia hears her gasp and hiss slightly in pain. Instantly, her head snaps up, eyes widening in worry. "What happened? Are you okay?" She asks quickly, eyes scanning over Lamina's form as she reasserts her footing on the beam and grimaces, hand pressing to her side.

"I'm fine." She says, pulling her hand away and examining it as Sylvia approaches the top of the pillar. "Just cut myself on the rock. Here, it's..." She points to a slightly jagged piece of rock that sticks out a little from the pillar, one that Sylvia would not have caught sight of herself.

Lamina reaches out, one of her hands hugging the pillar slightly, her other hand grabbing Sylvia's waist. She feels Lamina's hand squeeze her hip firmly, allowing her the balance to avoid the rock and set herself on the beam.

It's not wide enough that the two of them can stand side to side like this without the threat of one of them falling, so Lamina navigates around her, moving closer to the middle of the beam where Marcus is hanging from.

Sylvia's eyes flicker towards Lamina's side, fearing there's some kind of ghastly wound pouring blood. But all she sees is a slight rip in her shirt, and underneath it is a cut a few inches long. Yes, it's bleeding, and yes, Sylvia is worried immensely about it, but it doesn't seem life-threatening. Not for the moment, anyway.

Her eyes flicker from Lamina to Marcus, her fists clenching at her side as she weighs the possibilities in her head. She had sworn to herself coming here that she wouldn't kill anyone- wouldn't hurt anyone. But she knows one of them has to put Marcus out of his misery- it's the right thing to do. And she doesn't want this kind of guilt weighing on Lamina. Ideally, she wouldn't want Lamina to feel guilty at all- she wants to protect her from it. But realistically, Lamina will probably end up fighting or killing someone at some point in the games. And even if she doesn't, even if she survives, Sylvia's seen what survivors guilt can do to a person.

"Let me do it." She decides, her lips moving faster than her thoughts. Lamina turns her head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"What? Sylvia, I-"

"I'll do it." She reiterates, her fingers gripping the hilt of the hunting knife. One slash across the throat and it'd be done. One slash she's made hundreds of times on hundreds of animals.

But never on a human, a small voice in her head points out. She forces the thought out of her head.

And then, before she can even slip the knife out of her belt, Lamina's shaking her head. "No." She says, her tone steady and more determined than Sylvia's ever heard it. "I'm doing it. It's..." She takes a shaky breath, "It's only right. You're planning on dying in here, and the one... condition, I guess, that you have is that you're not killing anyone. I'm gonna give that to you."

Sylvia's eyebrows purse, her hands faltering on the hilt of the knife. "Lamina, please." She says softly, her voice almost begging. She wants to protect Lamina from this. Wants to protect her from all of this. "You don't have to-"

"I know." Lamina cuts her off. "But I want to. I just..." She squeezes her eyes shut, her thumb pressed against the flat top of the axe. "Just... let me do this for you." She opens her eyes, and her gaze darts to one of the cameras that are mounted on the wall of the arena. There's the glistening of tears in her eyes, but somehow Sylvia knows that this time they won't fall. "And we know your mentor isn't gonna send anything. No matter what you do. But mine might. And we need food and water."

She doesn't know which part of it makes her resolve break, but she can feel it so just the same. Either way, she knows Lamina is right. Her breath catches in her throat just for a second. Her grip on the hunting knife tightens, then relaxes. And then she lets it go altogether.

"Okay." The single word is spoken so quietly anyone might have missed it. But Lamina doesn't. She hears it as clearly as one would hear a train whistle. She nods, and her resolve tightens, jaw clenching as she turns back around.

Sylvia takes a few steps forward so she's behind Lamina on the beam as the auburn haired girl crouches down, almost right above Marcus's body. Sylvia eyes flicker from the boy, then to Lamina. She watches as Lamina reaches out, and for a moment her hand falters. Sylvia thinks she might not do it, but then Lamina gets this look in her eyes, one of pure and utter determination.

As gently as possible, Lamina brushes her fingers through Marcus's hair, a feat in and of itself given the amount of blood that's caked into the strands. And then she tilts the boy's head up. Sylvia nearly cries at the look on Marcus's face- hopelessness, pain, and heartbreak all rolled into one.

Lamina doesn't get the chance to speak, to ask if this is what Marcus wants. She probably wouldn't have to, either. Her face says it all. But Marcus is already gasping, already muttering out a single word with the last bit of strength he has left. If Sylvia wasn't two feet away, she wouldn't have heard it. In fact, even with her ears straining, she almost misses the one word he manages to get out.

"Please."

And that's all Lamina needs. She gently lets the boy's head lull back down as the quiet sounds of his sobs fill the air. Lamina leans back slightly, her hand reaching for the axe tucked into her belt. Sylvia has the sense to back up a foot or two, enough space for Lamina to have the full range of motion for what she knows is coming.

Lamina doesn't look at her- doesn't falter, either- as she pulls the axe out of her belt. She adjusts her grip in a way she's probably done a thousand times before. Sylvia watches her roll her shoulder slightly, and she knows that Lamina's going through the motions she's grown up with. The motions that come just before cutting a tree down, just before she fells it. But despite the motions, this isn't a tree. She wonders if that's how Lamina is imagining it- that this is a tree she's cutting down- as a way to cope. Ultimately, she decides she doesn't want to think about it.

Sylvia almost wants to look away. Almost wants to turn her body completely, close her eyes, and cover her ears. But she doesn't. Because then who would be there to support Lamina as she puts Marcus out of his misery? Sylvia knows the toll it's taking- and will take- on Lamina to kill him, and the one small thing she can do is support her. To be there with her and help her through it as much as she can.

So she watches. Watches as Lamina uses her free hand to tilt Marcus's head back, exposing his neck. Watches as Lamina gasps slightly, taking in a shaky breath as she seemingly tries to find the strength to do what she's about to do.

And she watches as Lamina brings the axe down on Marcus's neck.

Chapter 15: the beam

It's only after Lamina's cut the ropes on Marcus's wrists, and his body has fallen to the arena floor, that Sylvia sees her hands start to shake.  Reaching forward, Sylvia gently takes the axe from her hands so she doesn't drop it or accidentally cuts herself, and sets it off to the side on a flat part of the beam.  

  A moment later, a strange whirring sound catches their attention, and Lamina looks up from where she's been staring at Marcus's body.  Sylvia follows her gaze, and they both stand and see what looks to be a repurposed capitol drone.  Suspended under it by some kind of claw is a glass bottle of water.  Sylvia figures this is the supplies that the mentors were talking about, the ones they could send into the arena without having to actually be there. 

  Lamina shifts her feet on the beam, and Sylvia watches as the drone gets closer.  And then she realizes that it's actually coming at them quite fast.  And it's not really slowing down at all, and-

  With a start, Sylvia grabs the back of Lamina's head, forcing her to duck down with her just as the drone speeds through the air where they had been standing a second prior.  There's the sound of a crash, and glass breaking, and then metal falling to the ground.  The two of them look over the edge of the beam and see the broken drone and bottle of water in a pile at the foot of the other pillar.  

  Breathing heavily, Sylvia takes her hand off the back of Lamina's hand, brushing her dirty palms on her shawl.  "You alright?"  She asks, glancing over Lamina's face and body for any sign of injury.  

  Nodding, Lamina sighs.  "I... yeah.  I'm fine.  I mean, except for..."  She gestures to her side, where the cut from the rock is.  

  Bending at the waist slightly, Sylvia tilts her head to examine the cut.  She pulls the ripped part of Lamina's shirt to the side and looks over the cut.  It's not bleeding too bad, and the cut isn't deep at all.  It looks like a surface wound, which isn't really anything to be worried about.  Except for the fact that they don't have proper medical supplies here, much less a fucking bandage.  So what Sylvia's really worried about it the chance of infection.  

  "Okay,"  She mumbles, standing back up straight.  Once again, she brushes her hands on her shawl and glances around at the beam.  She catches sight of another incoming drone, and the two of them get ready to avoid it again, but this one comes slower and much more steadier.  To Sylvia's surprise, it moves to hover right over Lamina's head.

  The other girl keeps her eyes on it, then glances to Sylvia as if she's not sure what to do.  Sylvia shrugs and gestures to the water bottle held in the drone's grip.  "Might as well take it.  It's not coming for your head no more."  

  Lamina shoots her an unimpressed look, and Sylvia smirks.  Nonetheless, the auburn haired girl reaches up and takes the bottle in her hand.  As soon as she grips it, the drone lets it go, and then flies away back out the way it came- through a hole in the ceiling of the arena.  Sylvia watches it exit, and then looks back to where Lamina is weighing the bottle curiously in her hand. 

  "Come here."  Sylvia mumbles, nodding her head towards the pillar that they climbed up.  She walks over to the spot where the pillar meets the beam, forming a sort of right angle that one would be able to rest their back against.  Helping Lamina navigate around her on the beam, she watches the girl sit on the flat part with her back against the pillar, while she herself sits on the beam in front of her. 

  Leaning forward, she reaches to lift up Lamina's shirt just enough so that she can see the wound, but she hesitates just as her fingers touch the fabric.  She looks at Lamina, raising her eyebrows in question.

  Lamina just nods, tilting her head in the opposite direction, a slight grimace on her face as if she doesn't want to see the wound.  

  Sylvia lifts the fabric of Lamina's shirt as gently as she can, examining the cut more closely.  Unfortunately, she's not in a good position to be able to examine it well, and she sighs, sitting back on her heels.  

  "Alright, just... stay still."  She say, shifting slightly.  She sees the confused furrow of Lamina's eyebrows. 

  "Why?  What are you-"  She cuts herself off when Sylvia climbs into her lap, straddling her legs so she can get a better view of the cut.  Her face turns a color similar to her hair.  "Oh."  

  The reaction draws an amused smile out of Sylvia, but from where she is now she's able to lean and see just how bad the cut it.  Which, it really isn't.  It's not deep and it's only a few inches long.  Leaning back on Lamina's lap slightly, the vague thought comes to her that the people in the capitol are probably getting a hoot out of this.  But then again, like many things concerning the capitol, she doesn't care.

  But yeah.  She knows how this must look.  The position is... intimate, to say the least.  She's practically holding her breath, scared of accidentally brushing against Lamina too much or making her uncomfortable.    

  She rips off two strips of her skirt, and then takes the water bottle gently from Lamina's hand, choosing not to comment on the fact that a blush is still set heavy on the other girl's face.  She folds up one of the fabric strips and wets it with just a little bit of water, then hands the bottle back to Lamina.  Leaning again, she starts to gently dab at the cut, wiping away the blood and little bits of dirt as thoroughly and gently as possible.  

  "So, uh..."  Lamina's voice breaks the silence around them.  The sound brings a small smile to Sylvia's lips as she cleans the wound.  "What did Mizzen mean down there?" 

  Now Sylvia's eyebrows furrow.  "Hm?"  She hums in questions, taking a spare glance at Lamina's face- momentarily awestruck by how beautiful she is- before she focuses back on the task at hand.  

  If she was looking, she would have seen the blush deepen on Lamina's face.  "About the way you look at me."  She clarifies.  

  Wracking her brain for a moment, it takes a good couple seconds before she remembers the comment Lamina is referring to.  Vaguely she remembers Mizzen saying something to Coral-- about Sylvia looking at Lamina the same way Coral looked at her ex-girlfriend.  Once that comes to her, she feels her cheeks heat up with a blush.  

  "Oh."  Sylvia murmurs, "Uh... I don't know.  Just bein' a kid, I guess.  Lookin' too much into everything.  Readin' between the lines wrong."  She's lying through her teeth and she knows it.  But what else can she say? 'Oh, actually he means that I'm in love with you and protecting you to the best of my ability and that I'm actually struck blind by the mere sight of you and just you being around me makes my heart swell and my chest hurt'? 

  Yeah, no.  

  Lamina giggles slightly, the sound a mere whisper of a noise.  "Is that why he looked at me like that last night?  When the two of you were talking on the rock?"  She asks, and Sylvia laughs slightly when she remembers that.  

  Nodding, she smiles a bit.  "Yeah."  She murmurs, focusing on cleaning up the last bit of blood around Lamina's cut.  When she's done, she folds up the piece of fabric into a square and presses it against the cut- being as firm and gentle as she can be.  

  "Can you hold your shirt up?"  She requests, nodding towards the hem of Lamina's shirt.  She complies, lifting her shirt and the bottom of her vest up a few inches.  Sylvia looks pointedly away from the exposed skin, the blush from before still settled on her cheeks a bit.  Instead she focuses on using the second strip of fabric, tying it around Lamina's torso and covering the wound, ignoring the brush of her skin against Lamina's.  

  As soon as she's done, she draws back a little, shifting off of Lamina's lap and sitting on the beam, facing her.  "It should be alright.  I don't think it's gonna get infected, and it's basically done bleeding."  

  The words cause a wave of relief to wash over Lamina's face.  "Good." She mutters, more to herself than anything as she nods absentmindedly.  Sylvia watches her gaze move to the beam, and then gradually- Sylvia should've seen this coming- down to the arena floor below, to where Marcus's body lays motionless.  

  She can see the guilt starting to consume Lamina, and she desperately thinks of a way to distract her from it.  If she was in ten and felt particularly bad about killing an animal- an occurrence that happened every once in a while, as it does with all hunters- Magnus would tell her about his day, about a funny conversation he had with someone... anything to get her mind off of it.  

  "Last night..."  She starts, her voice catching Lamina's attention almost instantly.  The auburn haired girl looks away from the floor and to Sylvia, giving her full attention to the conversation. "Mizzen was telling me about marriage traditions in his district."  The memory of the conversation brings an amused smile to her face.  "It's different there.  Real different than ten."  

  Thankfully, the sudden topic does exactly what she intends.  Lamina tilts her head, smiling softly as she holds the water bottle to her stomach, crossing her legs.  "What are those like?  Marriage traditions in ten, I mean."  If Sylvia were looking into it more, she might have noticed the blush that's slowly spreading across Lamina's face. 

  And even though the whole purpose of this was to distract Lamina, she finds that the memory of it makes her own spirits lift a little bit.  She fiddles with the hem of her shawl as she smiles a bit.  "Well... proposals are what you'd expect- the ring and getting down on one knee and everything.  But there's different traditions for Hunters.  You give the person you love-"  She cuts herself off abruptly when she realizes what she's almost said.  The tradition is giving the person you love a trophy of your first kill, but there's no way in hell that she's going to tell Lamina that she's essentially already proposed to her.  

  "You give them something special."  She supplies instead, glancing away from Lamina and out towards the rest of the arena.  Still no tributes.  They must all be in the tunnels, still.  Looking back to the auburn haired girl, she continues.  "Usually in ten, the actual weddings are multiple couples getting married at a time- they pool money together to be able to afford something remotely nice.  It's... well, we're not horribly poor in ten, but we're not exactly well off like some of the other districts.  But it's really community based out there... you know, everyone helping everyone.  The ceremonies take place outside, in a field or a meadow usually- or in the desert.  The point is to be under the big, open sky."  

  She pauses momentarily when a noise catches her attention, but when she looks towards the cornucopia, she sees it's just a shifting in the rocks.  Her fingers still on her shawl, and she watches the cornucopia for a few more moments, just to be sure.  

  Hesitantly, she looks back to Lamina.  She's slightly surprised to see that she's actually invested in what Sylvia is saying.  She always looks like that when Sylvia talks- like she's hanging onto every word as if it's the last thing she'll ever hear. 

  She thinks she'll start blushing again if she looks at Lamina's face for too long, so she transfers her gaze to her lap, fidgeting with her shawl again as she continues on.  "They take a leather cord and tie the two peoples hands together- going from the person who proposed to the recipient.  The cord is either tied onto a hat or made into a bracelet afterwards.  Then, you either say your vows real quiet in front of the guests, or you say them in private.  Most people do the latter.  Then the officiant comes in, blah blah blah, they kiss... fun times."  

  Lamina giggles slightly at the last part, and it brings a smile to Sylvia's face.  She takes the chance to look up, and for a moment, notices how unearthly Lamina looks.  The sun shining through the hole in the roof lights up her hair and turns it a shade of copper, almost surrounding her face, as if the sun itself was focusing all of its light on her.  Which it should.  Lamina is so bright- her looks, her personality, her character- that she rivals the sun itself.  She's not sure how anyone could look at Lamina and not be in love with her.   

  She looks away, feeling the slight heat on her cheeks again as she looks back down at her lap.  She forces her voice not to shake as she continues on.  "The reception is either in a field or a barn- sometimes both.  It's very community based.  Open invite kinda deal.  Usually the whole town comes and it's basically a big party.  I've been to a couple, they're real fun."  She smiles softly at the memory of the few receptions she's been to.  "Usually, the families of the couple come together and give them a present or an animal- kind of symbolizes the start of their new lives.  For Hunters, there's another tradition.  Every Hunter gets a hat, usually around the same time you get your brand."  She takes off her own hat and runs a hand through her hair, as if to prove the point.  She places the hat on her lap.  "The spouse of the hunter takes their hat and goes somewhere private with the hunter's mentor.  They brand something into the underside of the hate- a message or an image, usually.  There's an older tradition where the spouse goes and finds a feather and braids it into the hunter's hair at some point in the night, but that's kinda been lost."  She shrugs, absentmindedly reaching up and fiddling with one of the feathers in her own hair.  

  Looking at her lap still, she's slightly surprised when she hears Lamina speak.  "Like your tattoos?"  She inquires, "You told me tattoos of the animals were kind of an older tradition, too.  That no one really gets them anymore."  

  She looks up when Lamina says that, and can't help the smile that spreads across her face.  "You remembered that?"  She asks amusedly, but she's also kind of in awe.  Just when she thought she already discovered every reason to love Lamina, another one reveals itself.  

  Damn, when had she even told her that?  Probably the night in the zoo when she showed Lamina her brand.  Some time around then.  

  Lamina gives her a look that she can't quite place.  "Of course I remembered."  She says earnestly.  And holy hell, if Sylvia could only get up and kiss her right this second.  

  Instead, she smiles a little more, pushing some of her hair behind her ear as she nods.  "Yeah.  It's outdated.  But I kinda like it."  She muses, shrugging.  Then she asks tentatively,  "What about you?  What are the marriage traditions in seven like?" 

  Mostly she asks out of curiosity and the want to know more about Lamina and her life.  Partially she asks so she can imagine what it might be like if their lives were different- if they weren't in the games, and they were from the same district.  Maybe things would've been different.  

  The soft smile that appears on Lamina's face is a sight that will be engrained into Sylvia's brain for however long she has left to live.  "Weddings are... a little more private, I guess?  Proposals almost always take place in private, and you give them..."  Sylvia notices the way Lamina trails off.  Thinking Lamina may have heard something, she looks towards the arena around them.  She doesn't see the glance Lamina throws to the wooden bracelet that sits on Sylvia's wrist.  

  "You give them something important, too.  Kind of like the Hunter's, I guess.  Usually it's not a ring."  Lamina's continuing voice pulls Sylvia's attention away from the arena and back to her.  "The whole ceremony is a private thing with just the two people.  You make the other person a crown made of flowers and leaves and things, and you have close friends put meaningful stuff into the crowns.  It takes place under a tree- which is its own tradition altogether-, and you stand barefoot.  I think it's supposed to symbolize planting new roots for the new start of your lives?  I don't really remember.  But then you put the rings on, the officiant says the words, and then turns around while the two people kiss."  

  For a moment- just a moment- Sylvia imagines the two of them barefoot, crowns on their heads as they stand under a tree. 

  Banishing the image from her mind almost as soon as it arrived, she focuses back on Lamina.  The Lamina who it sitting here, in front of her, in the arena.  The arena where one or both of them will be lying dead within a few days, if not hours.

  "The reception is generally with just the families of the two people and a few close friends.  It's more of a get-together than a party."  Lamina laughs softly, "They gather at one of the families homes, or the couple's house, if they have their own.  Everyone brings food, or something for the house that the couple can use.  Sometimes, if you can afford it, a band comes to play music."

  She sees the melancholy look on Lamina's face, and the small, sad smile that sits on her lips.  Her gaze is off-set, as if she's imagining something in her mind.

  "What's the tradition for the tree?"  Sylvia asks softly, keeping her voice low as if she doesn't want to snap Lamina out of whatever nostalgic daydream she was in.  

  "Huh?"  Lamina asks distractedly, zoning back in and focusing on Sylvia again.  

  "The tree that the couple stands under." She clarifies, tugging on a loose thread in her skirt.  "You said it was its own tradition."

  "Oh."  Lamina mutters, a strange look coming over her face, as if she's regarding Sylvia.  Then she smiles softly.  "Sorry, I didn't think you were paying attention that closely."  She shifts a little, fidgeting with her own fingers as she continues.  "When babies are born in seven, friends and family of the parents will bring branches from different trees and put them on the floor.  Then the parents have the baby crawl to them, and whichever one the baby goes to apparently says something about them, or represents them.  You get married under one of the trees that represent the couple."  

  The idea of that kind of warms Sylvia's heart.  The more she hears about seven from Lamina, the more she wishes things could've been different.  "What's your tree?" 

  "An Evergreen."  Lamina smiles.  "My Dad..."  As soon as she says it, something shifts in Lamina, Sylvia can tell.  It's as if the word leaves a bad taste in her mouth.  "He says that I didn't even consider any of the other branches.  I went straight for the Evergreen."

  "It was fate, then."  Sylvia muses, smiling softly at her.  She shifts her legs so she's sitting criss-cross, picking up her hat so it doesn't fall off the beam, then setting it back down on her legs.  She considers the other girl for a few moments before she speaks again.  "I take it you and your Dad don't get along very well?" 

  Lamina scoffs, an angry look taking over her face for a second.  She keeps her gaze set on the area of the beam between them.  "That's an understatement."  She says lowly, anger lacing her voice.  The only other time she's seen Lamina even remotely angry is when Florus Friend slapped her in the studio.  "He's drunk all the time- he started when my Mom died when I was seven.  Only goes to work just enough to keep from getting fired, but any money he gets, he wastes.  It's why I started working when I was fourteen.  He acts like I don't exist.  So I had to fend for myself."  

  She sees the sadness in Lamina's eyes, but she doesn't cry.  She seems more resentful than upset.  Still, Sylvia's eyes soften, and she reaches out and takes Lamina's hand in her's, brushing her thumb over her knuckles.  "I'm sorry, sweetheart.  You deserve better.  Really." 

  The anger on Lamina's face seems to fade away a little with Sylvia's touch.  She smiles softly and squeezes Sylvia's hand.  She shakes her head.  "It's alright."  She says, shrugging like it's no big deal.  

  But it is a big deal.  To Sylvia at least.  How could someone ignore Lamina?  How could her own father ignore her?  How could someone ignore the presence of the most amazing person on the planet? 

  Sylvia doesn't think she could ever ignore Lamina.  Actually, scratch that.  She knows the could never ignore her.  

  "My parents were kind of the same way, before they were hung."  Sylvia muses, thumb tracing the words 'I love you' on the back of Lamina's hand, as has become muscle memory.  "I don't really remember them at all.  They yelled a lot, I think."  She shrugs a little, pursing her lips.  "Magnus is the closest thing to a father I think I'll ever get.  He's my mentor- my real mentor, I mean.  Not the sorry excuses for mentors the capitol pushed on us."  Her words are laced with venom.  "Magnus... I mean, he taught me how to hunt.  How to shoot.  How to ride a horse.  Everything."  The mere memory of him makes her happy and sad at the same time.  Melancholic, she supposes.  

  "He sounds amazing."  Lamina remarks fondly, squeezing Sylvia's hand.  "I would've liked to meet him, maybe if things were different."  

  Nodding, Sylvia smiles.  "Yeah."  She agrees.  "I would've liked for you to meet him, too."  

 

  The day goes by quickly after that.  The silence of the arena is broken only by their hushed conversations on the beam, all the way until sundown.  They agree to take shifts sleeping, and Sylvia insists on taking the first watch, promising to wake Lamina up when its her turn- which she has no intention of doing.  She's used to not sleeping for nights on end, and Lamina needs the energy more than she does.  

  It's sometime in the middle of the night that Coral's pack emerges from the tunnels.  

  Sylvia is sitting criss cross on the beam with Lamina's head resting in her lap as she sleeps on the stone.  Sylvia's fingers absentmindedly card through her hair, passing through the auburn strands and toying with the ends of them.  

  The echo of footsteps catches her attention, her ears picking up on the group of four before her eyes do.  They're well-adjusted to the dark, so she sees them emerging from one of the tunnels on the other side of the arena a few seconds after.  Coral exits first, Mizzen following closely behind, and even from here, she sees him yawn, rubbing his eyes with a closed fist. 

  Tanner and Treech follow the district four pair, looking less than enthusiastic about venturing out into the arena in the middle of the night.  She figures they were sleeping before coming up here.  

  She keeps a careful eye on them, but fortunately, none of them spot her or Lamina on the beam.  Coral's hushed voice cuts through the silence of the air, but Sylvia can't decipher what she's saying.  She gets the general premise of it, though, when Tanner and Treech turn and go off begrudgingly towards one of the bodies that litters the floor of the arena.  Mizzen sticks by Coral as the older two boys start moving the bodies of fallen tributes to one area of the arena.  

  Her heart clenches slightly at the sight of Mizzen and Tanner.  She can vaguely hear hushed conversation coming from the latter and Treech, and then the sound of Tanner's quiet laughter.  The sound makes her smile slightly, and she reverts her gaze to Mizzen. 

  The boy's on the ground now, curled up against a rock with his net spread out over his body, as if he's trying to use it as a blanket.  Coral stands a few feet away, surveying the area as she keeps a tight grip on her trident.  

  It's only a half hour or so before Coral nudges Mizzen gently, then whistles lowly to get the attention of Tanner and Treech.  Sylvia watches the four of them return underground, back into the tunnels.  

 

  It's soon after that- two, maybe three hours later- that a new noise catches her attention.  It's quiet- so quiet, she almost doesn't hear it.  But the sound of footsteps is unmistakeable, and it takes her a few moments to realize it's coming from the entrance to the arena.  

  Her eyes narrow, and she leans forward slightly to get a better look at the approaching figure, careful not to wake up Lamina.  She isn't exactly sure where the figure is going or who it is, until she sees their head turn and face the floor underneath the beam.  No, not the floor.  The body laying on it.  Marcus. 

  It's when he approaches closer that she recognizes the boy- Sejanus.  Marcus's mentor.  Vaguely, she remembers that he's district- or was, at least.  From 2.  

  As he walks forward, he quietly shoos the buzzards away that were pecking at Marcus's carcass.  He glances up at her, and any thought of him being a threat vanishes almost instantly.  The look in his eyes is regretful and sad, and yet angry at the same time.  He pauses when he catches her gaze, freezing mid-step as if he's waiting for her to make a move. 

  Instead, she shifts on the beam, looking pointedly away from him.  She knows he's not a threat.  And even if he was, she wouldn't leave Lamina.  She returns to carding her fingers through the other girl's hair, feeling her shift lightly in her sleep.  

  There's a sigh of relief from the boy, and then rustling.  Her curiosity compels her to look down, and she sees him reaching into his satchel and sprinkling something over Marcus's body.  It takes her another moment to realize they're breadcrumbs.  Vaguely, she remembers it's a tradition in 2- to sprinkle breadcrumbs so the dead has sustenance in the next life.  Sylvia is happy to know that not everything from his district was lost on the boy.  

  When he kneels down on the ground next to Marcus's body, Sylvia looks away to give him his privacy.  Her gaze moves subconsciously to Lamina.  

  She looks more peaceful than Sylvia's ever seen her.  There's a content look on her face, and Sylvia's hands start to shake a little bit as they card through Lamina's hair.  

  It's at least twenty minutes that go by before Sylvia hears another sound, this one as unwelcome as it gets. 

'Enjoy the show.'

  Her head practically snaps up.  The sound is the loudest thing she's heard in the arena since the screams of the other tributes during the initial bloodbath.  It echoes throughout the open space, and she can almost feel it echoing into the tunnels.  Her eyes narrow instantly, focusing on the new figure treading into the arena.

  She can tell he's trying to be quiet- trying to make as little noise as possible as he maneuvers his way to where Sejanus is kneeling next to Marcus.  The stark white hair stands out slightly in the darkness of the arena, and since her eyes are so well-adjusted, she can see the blood red of his uniform.  Her eyes narrow even more when she realizes who it is.  

  Coriolanus Snow is glancing around, a look of fear and trepidation on his face.  She doesn't know why he's here, and she doesn't care enough to think about it.  

  From one of the tunnel entrances in the walls of the arena, a metallic clang rings out, echoing through the air.  It's an eerie sound, and if she was on the ground and not high up in the air on the safety of the beam, she'd probably be feeling a little nervous.  

  Which is why when she sees the almost instant fear appear on Snow's face, she knows it isn't fake.  As he approaches Sejanus and hisses his name, he glances up to the beam.  She glares down at him, hand moving to the hilt of her knife.  She knows he can't do anything- knows he could never hope to take her in a fight even if she was weaponless- but there's something about him.  Something serpentine... something dark and greedy.  She doesn't know what it is, and she doesn't ever want to know.

  It's when another metallic clang echoes from the tunnel entrance, that Sylvia decides to wake Lamina up.  Just in case something happens, so that they're both alert and ready.  While Snow and Sejanus start having a hushed conversation that she doesn't care to listen to, she nudges Lamina's shoulder, shaking her softly while keeping her eyes on Snow.  

  Lamina wakes up quickly, flinching awake almost as soon as Sylvia starts shaking her.  Sitting up, she looks around, and Sylvia glances to her, then to Snow and Sejanus.  Lamina follows her gaze and shifts, reaching into her belt and slipping her axe into her hand.  Sylvia watches her gaze harden, her lips tilting down slightly.  The movement catches Snow's attention, his gaze flickering upwards again. 

  He looks back down and whispers something to Sejanus.  The two of them stand so close that for a moment, Sylvia thinks they might kiss.  

  And then there's another echo from the tunnel entrance, and Snow seems to get more hasty.  His voice gets slightly louder, and he's tensed up, ready to run.  He grabs the side of Sejanus's head, focusing his attention on him as he whispers quietly.  

  And then there's footsteps, and Sylvia turns around to face the tunnel entrance just as Bobbin runs out of the darkness, yelling as he wields a machete in his hand.  

  "Go! Go!"  Snow yells, eyes widening as he pulls Sejanus, the two of them running away from the beam and towards the entrance to the arena.  Sylvia's eyes follow Bobbin as he dashes underneath the beam, the machete cutting through the air as he runs.  Next to her, Lamina sits up straighter, her eyes wide as she registers Bobbin's presence.  

  She loses sight of them for a moment as they run around the cornucopia, and then Sejanus and Snow reappear as they jump over the turnstiles.  Sylvia watches, her grip on the handle of her knife tightening.  Sejanus's foot gets stuck, and she can almost see what will happen before it does.  The sound of a breaking bone echoes through the arena, making Lamina flinch next to her.  Sylvia reaches out, interlocking their hands, accustomed to the sound from years of being around Hunters.  

  Snow turns back to help him, and then Bobbin reappears as well, following the two older boys and jumping over the turnstiles, brandishing his machete, then swinging at Snow as soon as he's within range.  Sylvia watches him tumble to the ground to avoid it, then grabs blindly around for something to help him, latching onto what looks to be a metal rod with a broken piece of concrete on the end.  He swings wildly, and Sylvia hears the impact of it slamming into Bobbin's arm, sending the boy stumbling back. 

  Snow scrambles up, Sejanus forcing himself up behind him as Bobbin makes another swing.  He misses again, and Sylvia can't help but flinch, squeezing Lamina's hand as she hears the other girl gasp.  

  "I don't want to hurt you!"  Snow yells, holding his arm out towards Bobbin as he tries to back away from the boy, the piece of metal and concrete still in his other hand.  Bobbin yells angrily and swings again, and by the way Snow gasps in pain and doubles over, she assumes he lands a hit.  

  And then, before she can even really process it, Snow is yelling and swinging the rod again.  Sylvia eyes widen as the concrete slams into the side of Bobbin's head, sending him staggering back.  The blow is deadly, that much is clear.  There's no way he could ever manage to slash at Snow again after a hit like that. 

  But then the capitol boy swings again.  And again, the concrete slams into Bobbin's head, sending him stumbling back through the turnstiles as the automated voice echoes through the arena again.  Lamina gasps, her other hand coming up to cover her mouth as her eyes widen.  

  And even Sylvia- who's spent her whole life around death- feels like she wants to puke.  Instead, she turns and uses her free hand to hold onto Lamina's head and turn her face away from the sight.  

  She watches Bobbin's body fall to the ground past the turnstiles.  Watches Snow follow him through them, the rod gripped tightly in his hand.  Even from here, she sees the anger in his eyes, along with something else she can't quite place.  She knows what he's going to do before he does it, and she uses her free hand to cover one of Lamina's ears, pushing the side of her head against her own shoulder to block Lamina's other ear while still keeping her turned away.  

  Snow slams the concrete into Bobbin's head again.  And again.  And again.  The sound ingrains itself in her memory- the stone splitting the boy's skull and crushing it against the floor of the arena.  

  Her eyes are wide with horror, her mouth slightly agape.  She's seen violence before, but this... this is something else.  This is different.  

  She'd known there was something wrong with Snow.  Something dark, and dangerous.  This is just a tase of it.   

  She's so distracted by the horrific sight that she doesn't register the presence of Coral and her group until they're running towards the turnstiles- towards Snow and Sejanus.  

  Once the former drops the rod and turns to run back to Sejanus, only then does Sylvia shakily pull her hand away from Lamina.  The other girl lifts her head off Sylvia's shoulder, turning towards the turnstiles as Coral and her group run after Snow, and then turns to try and meet Sylvia's gaze.  

  But Sylvia can't pull her eyes away from Bobbin.  Bobbin's lifeless body, lying motionless on the floor, the machete still gripped tightly in his hand.  The image of Snow slamming the concrete against the boy's head plays in her mind, over and over and over and-

  There's a hand on her cheek, warm and familiar.  Lamina forces Sylvia's gaze away from Bobbin and back to her, wiping away a tear that Sylvia didn't even realize was there.  She breathes shakily, her eyes flickering over Lamina's face- her pursed eyebrows, her frown, her worried eyes. 

  Sylvia doesn't say anything.  She doesn't have to.  Lamina already knows.  

  Her hand slips into Lamina's, their fingers interlocking as her free arm wraps around the auburn haired girl's shoulders.  She presses her face into the side of Lamina's head as her arm wraps around Sylvia's waist.  Subconsciously, her thumb drifts to the back of Lamina's hand, tracing the familiar three words.

Chapter 16: the star-crossed lovers

Sylvia lets Lamina sleep more, the girl's head resting in her lap as she cards her fingers through the copper strands.  The sky outside lightens over the course of a few minutes, and once the sun starts streaming through the holes in the ceiling, her eyes land on Bobbin's body again.  

  She doesn't know why Coriolanus Snow came in last night to get Sejanus out.  She knows damn well it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart.  At this point, she's not even sure if he has one.  Or maybe he did, and he just doesn't any more.  Either way, she knows the capitol won't be showing the footage of him killing Bobbin.  They probably cut the cameras or moved them so that Bobbin's murder was 'coincidentally' unseen.  

  And no one will ever know that it was a capitol boy who killed him.  Bobbin's body is so bloody that she's sure the capitol citizens will be astonished- reinstating their claim that those from the districts are violent and animalistic.  They'll never know it was one of their own that did it.  

  The thought makes her angry, but her focus is quickly pulled away from Bobbin when the sound of yelling reaches her ears.  Rushed footsteps accompany it, and she recognizes the voice of Lucy Gray.  

  Sylvia cranes her neck to find where her voice is coming from, and she catches sight of the district 12 girl scrambling out of one of the tunnel entrances, tripping over her own feet and stumbling all the way up.  Her frightened yells and the continuous glances she throws behind her lead Sylvia to believe that one of the other tributes is chasing her- Coral, probably.  

  Deciding it's better for Lamina to be alert in case something happens, she gently shakes the girl awake, keeping her eyes on Lucy Gray as she runs to a mound of rubble near one of the arena walls.  Just as Lamina sits up, Sylvia sees another figure emerge from the tunnels. 

  Only it's not Coral.  It's Jessup- Lucy Gray's district partner.

  As soon as she sees him, she knows something's wrong.  Her eyes narrow slightly as she watches him scramble after Lucy Gray.  Next to her, Lamina mutters quietly, "What's wrong with him?  Why's he going after her?"

  And after a few moments of observation, she has an answer.  "Rabies."  She mutters, the single word almost lost between the two of them, nearly drowned out by Lucy Gray's screams and Jessup's delirious rambling.  

  Everyone in ten knows the signs of rabies.  It had run rampant during the war in the districts and in the capitol- animals becoming infected and going feral, running into the abandoned streets.  But people in ten have been accustomed to it for years and years.  They know the early signs of the disease so that once it makes itself known in an animal, it can be put down before it turns into something worse and more painful- and so it doesn't affect the rest of the herd.  

  She doesn't know how Jessup got rabies.  Probably in the zoo, or maybe even in the cattle car on the way to the capitol.  She's not sure.  But she recognizes the signs, clear as day- foaming at the mouth, delirium, agitation, anxiety...

  "What did you do to me?"  Jessup yells, scrambling up the rocks after her.  His words are slurred, muffled by the foam that she knows must be filling his mouth by now.  

  Lucy Gray yells something back, but Sylvia doesn't hear it. 

  "Rabies?"  Lamina repeats incredulously.  Sylvia turns away from the scene and back to Lamina, who looks confused as ever.  Her eyes flicker between Sylvia, and then past her to the mound of rubble.  "How could he-?" 

  "I don't know."  Sylvia shakes her head, looking back to the scene not even halfway across the arena, eyebrows furrowed.  "Maybe somethin' bit him?  In the zoo, or the cattle car?  I don't know." 

  The two fall into an uneasy silence as they watch the scene unfold- Jessup clambering recklessly up the rocks as Lucy Gray does her best to evade him.  But the piece of rock she's on is a slanted stone slab, meaning there's no way she can easily climb up it other than pushing herself up the incline and try not to slide back down towards Jessup.  

  She's certain she's about to watch them die.  Jessup is done for, she knows that.  The rabies has progressed to its later stages, and even if the capitol has some fancy treatment for it, Sylvia knows damn well it would never be given to Jessup.  And even if it was, it would have had to been administered ahead of time-- there's no hope for him now.  And by the way he's acting out, Sylvia's sure that he's going to bring Lucy Gray down with him. 

  The two tributes from 12 are at the top of the mound of rubble now, Lucy Gray still trying to push herself backwards and away from him.  Jessup pulls himself up, struggling to a standing position as he yells.  

  "What did you do to me?!" 

  Lamina's hand shakily grabs her arm from behind, fingers twitching as she blindly grabs for Sylvia's hand.  She moves her arm so she can interlock her fingers with Lamina's.

  And then there's a sharp whirring sound-- the familiar sound of a drone.  Sylvia doesn't even have a chance to locate it before it's flying above Jessup's head, and the water bottle that was in it's grip slams into his chest, breaking on impact and splashing the water all over him.  Lucy Gray yelps, and Jessup gasps sharply, grunting in confusion as his eyes widen in fright.    

  Sylvia remembers aversion to water as one of the signs of rabies.  The disease causes swelling that makes it difficult to swallow.  Same goes for humans.  In both animals and people, and intense fear of water grows from the disease.  

  Jessup yells, panicking at the feeling of water soaking his shirt and spreading over his skin.  She sees him backing up, trying to get away from it in his delirious state and not realizing there won't be anymore water where the first splash came from.  He staggers backwards, and Sylvia's eyes widen at the same time Lamina gasps sharply, the both of them watching Jessup's foot slip over the edge of the rock-

  And then he falls, stumbling over the edge and reaching up as he does, trying to find something to catch himself with.  His arms and legs flail and his screams echo in the arena, all up until his head slams into a rock on the floor.  She hears the echo of it, and for a moment, she's not watching Jessup die.  For a split second, she's watching the capitol boy slam the concrete down on Bobbin.  

  Jessup's body stills as soon as his body makes contact, and she zones back in on Lucy Gray as the girl starts to carefully slide down the rock.  In the silence of the arena, she hears the girl whisper his name, almost sounding like she's in shock.  

  Sylvia turns away, then, forcing her gaze back to the beam underneath her.  The feeling of Lamina squeezing her hand snaps her out of it, just as she hears the almost inaudible sound of stones clattering.  

  Moving her gaze to the area of the arena in front of them, right near the cornucopia, she sees Coral and her group climbing quietly out of one of the tunnel entrances.  Coral's gaze is set firmly on Lucy Gray, the redhead's steps careful and calculated so as not to make any noise.  Not that it would matter.  Lucy Gray is seemingly transfixed on Jessup, murmuring words so low that not even Sylvia can hear them.  

  Mizzen follows behind Coral, carefully shifting the grip he has on his net.  In his other hand is a knife similar to Sylvia's.  Tanner and Treech follow behind, climbing out of the tunnel last.  They're close- Sylvia notes- walking close together and having a silent conversation with their eyes.  The sight of Mizzen and Tanner brings an almost invisible smile to her face, but the sadness weighs heavy because she's continuously aware of the situation they're in.  She feels Lamina squeeze her hand to comfort her.    

  Tanner catches sight of her as he climbs out of the tunnel entrance.  Sylvia notes that his hat is gone, but the feather she gave him is tied firmly to the belt around his waist.  And whereas Coral is focused solely on Lucy Gray, Tanner takes the opportunity to survey the rest of the arena, which is when his gaze lands on her.  His face seems to be overcome with something like relief when he sees she's still alive, and he grins slightly.  

  Treech sees them, too.  But when he sees Lamina, he looks down again, purposely avoiding looking in the direction of the beam.  She knows why, and she can almost feel the sadness radiating off Lamina at the sight of her district partner.  Sylvia squeezes her hand, brushing her thumb over her knuckles.    

  Reaching forward as the group walks silently, Tanner nudges Mizzen gently, causing the boy to turn around.  Tanner nods his head, gesturing towards the direction of the beam with a small smile.  

  Swiveling his head, Mizzen looks at the floor below the beam- at Marcus's body- and then shifts his gaze upward as his walk slows just slightly.  When his brown eyes meet her hazel ones, they widen, and a bright grin takes over his face.  Sylvia can almost pretend they're not in the arena when he waves excitedly at her- his knife still clutched in his hand- and then pushes back his hair and points to his ear- to the earring she gave him-, giving her a thumbs up. 

  Sylvia smiles softly and waves, giving him a small thumbs up back.  And then he hesitantly turns back towards Coral, giving Sylvia one last look before the four of them make their way closer to Lucy Gray.  

  Only when he looks away does she let the shaking in her hand become apparent, her breath shaky as she exhales.  She can't help the worry she feels for him- for Tanner, too- as she watches him adjust the hold on his net.  All she wants is for him to be okay, to survive.  But then again, how many others does she want to survive, as well?

  "He'll be okay."  Lamina's soothing voice breaks past all her worry, as if she knows exactly what she's thinking.  Not that it would be hard.  Her emotions are probably written clear as day on her face.  Sylvia turns to her, eyebrows pursed as she looks to the auburn haired girl for some kind of reassurance.  

  Lamina's gaze softens, her free hand coming up to the side of Sylvia's face, cupping her jaw as her thumb brushes over Sylvia's cheek.  "Tanner, too.  They'll both be alright.  Coral won't let anything happen to Mizzen."  

  Lamina's soft voice fills her head.  Fills her mind.  Suddenly, everything becomes Lamina.  She's all Sylvia can see, all she can hear, and feel.  She doesn't feel the hard stone of the beam under her legs, just Lamina's hands on her cheek and interlocked with her own.  The arena blurs out of focus until Lamina is the only thing that's clear.  The sounds of the drones approaching are cut out-

  Wait... drones?  

  Sylvia pulls Lamina down flat against the beam just as a drone flies over their heads, a water bottle gripped tightly in its mechanical claw.  They gasp, and as soon as it passes over them, Sylvia stands up, rushing to the far end of the beam to more closely see what's happening.  Her eyes widen as she holds onto the pillar for support, leaning over the side of the beam so far that Lamina grabs her by the waist, afraid she'll fall off.  

  She watches seven- no, eight- drones speed towards the group.  More specifically, towards Lucy Gray.  Coral and the group have her surrounded, which in any other scenario would be to their advantage.  

  But now, it just means that the drones have to crash through them on their way to Lucy Gray.  Sylvia watches as one clips Mizzen in the shoulder, his knife falling from his hand as he nearly falls.  He looks around in a panic, looking to Coral and then back to Sylvia on the beam with a frightened expression on his face, which is about when one of the drones slams square into Tanner's back with enough force to potentially be fatal.  Sylvia gasps as he's thrown forward, and then Treech knocks away another oncoming drone with his axe, which slams into Coral, instead.  

  It's fruitless, though, because then he's knocked down by another drone, and a few seconds after, a drone slams into Mizzen's side.  Sylvia's can almost feel her heart drop as her whole body freezes, her eyes widening as she watches him fall.  He's much smaller than Tanner- not as physically strong, either- and the force from the drone would be fatal as is.

  Everything in her wants to get up and go to him, to make sure he's alright.  To pick him up in her arms and brush his hair back and let him know that she's there, that she'll never let anything hurt him again.  She wants to go see Tanner, to make sure he's okay and to help him if he's not.    

  She doesn't want to be staring at two more corpses on the ground.

  She's so focused on Tanner and Mizzen's bodies on the ground- trying to catch sight of any sort of movement from them that would signal their liveliness- that she doesn't see the side door on one of the arena walls sliding open, or the large, shadowed figure that's stalking out of it and into the arena.  

  Lamina's grip on her waist tightens, and she actually feels the other girl tense up and start shaking at the same time.  

  "Sylvia."  Lamina exhales, the single word so shaky that Sylvia thinks something is wrong.  She starts pulling Sylvia's waist, trying to get her back squarely on the beam.  "Sylvia!"  She repeats, desperation filling her voice.  

  Forcing her gaze away from Tanner and Mizzen, she staggers slightly back onto the beam, making herself turn and look at Lamina.  She's expecting some kind of injury, or for her to have somehow contracted the rabies that Jessup had, for her to be foaming at the mouth or bleeding out or dying right in front of her.  

  But Lamina's not even looking at her.  Instead, her eyes are wide with fear and focused solely on something moving across the arena floor slowly, towards the beam.  When Sylvia follows her gaze, her eyes widen and her eyebrows furrow. 

  She doesn't want to think about how an animal got into the arena.  The answer- if she had chosen to ask it- is obvious: the Capitol.

  But this... thing, whatever it is... it's not even an animal.  It looks like someone mashed together the parts of several creatures, and this was the end result.  

  She's never seen a bear in person, but she's seen pictures- seen videos, too, from the old days.  Whatever this... thing is, it looks mostly like a bear.  What kind of bear?  Hell, she couldn't say.  Its fur is mostly dark brown, its body is bigger than most animals she's seen.  So at first, she thinks it's a bear.  

  But then, as the thing approaches, she looks closer.  It's... wrong.  She doesn't know how to describe it other than that. 

  The face almost looks like a bobcats, like it's been squished back and plastered onto a bear's body.  The tail is like a mountain lion's- long and sleek, swishing back and forth as it stalks around the cornucopia towards the beam- but the ears are on the side of it's head, angular and pressed flat back against the skull.  

  Whatever the hell this thing is, it's not natural.  She knows that much.  It's something that's been concocted in the laboratories of the Capitol by some deranged fucking scientist or gamemaker.  And now they've released it into the arena.  Why?  She doesn't know.  Maybe to kill the tributes off quicker, or to provide more entertainment.  This creature would certainly add shock value to the games.  

  A small, guilty part of Sylvia thinks maybe this thing was put in here for her.  To punish her.  By refusing to fight and to kill, she had directly gone against the purpose of the games.  She had called it her own silent act of rebellion, but maybe the capitol had caught onto what she was doing.  Maybe they considered it a large act of rebellion and they were now punishing her for it.  This would certainly be the way to do it.  They put a Hunter in the games, and now they were giving her something to hunt.  

  Or maybe it was the opposite.  Maybe it was supposed to hunt her.  Maybe they just wanted her dead- over and done with so that her refusal to kill wouldn't go on any longer.  

  Either way, she'd be lying if she says she's not scared of this thing.  She's never seen a bear in real life- never had to fight or kill one- and she's certainly never seen a creature like this.  

  She scrambles her brain and tries to remember everything she knows about bears.  She's not worried about the bobcat face or the mountain lion tail- neither of those things could really do any lasting harm or pose a threat to her.  What she's really worried about is the claws on the thing.  Long and sharp, and she can hear them scraping the arena floor as it sets its gaze on the two of them at the top of the beam.  It's just passing the cornucopia now, and she's not even sure if- 

  "They can climb."  Lamina's shaky voice cuts through her thoughts as she lets go of Sylvia's waist and pulls out her axe.  

  Sylvia's eyebrows furrow as she keeps her gaze on the creature.  It stops just past the cornucopia, head moving back and forth between the two pillars holding the beam up, and then sets its sights on the one nearest to Sylvia.  

  "What?" She hisses lowly, slipping her knife out of her belt and clutching it in her hand. 

  "Grizzly bears."  Lamina answers shakily.  Sylvia hears her adjusting her footing on the beam, hears her take a deep breath.  "They can climb trees."  Sylvia doesn't know how she knows that, until she realizes that the area of seven that Lamina is from is where grizzly bears inhabit.  It's one of the few things she remembers.  

  She glances again at its claws, squaring her feet and shifting on the beam.  She imagines that normal grizzly bears can climb trees by sinking their claws into the bark and pulling themselves up, or something of the like.  But they shouldn't be able to climb stone pillars- they're too large for their arms to wrap around, and there's no way a grizzly bear's claws can penetrate stone. 

  But then she notices that sound again.  Of the creature's claws on the arena floor.  It sounds so familiar, and it takes Sylvia a good few moments to realize it's the sound of metal against stone.  

  They weren't normal claws.  They were made of metal.  Metal that could- Sylvia's assuming, giving thought to the capital's laboratories- cling to stone just enough to be able to climb a pillar made of it.  

  Fuck. 

  The one word echoes in Sylvia's mind as she watches the creature start to climb the pillar nearest to her.  The one thing she's thankful for is that it's not climbing up the pillar closest to Lamina- that, and the fact that the creature didn't notice Tanner or Mizzen or the others.  

  She runs through the motions in her head, the same ones she would go through if she were out on a hunt in district ten.  

  She calms her breathing, quiets her mind.  Blocks out everything else except of the creature that's slowly but steadily growing closer to the top of the pillar.  She picks out the most dangerous parts of it- the claws, first and foremost.  Maybe the teeth, as well.  She thinks about where to stab... and then realizes she doesn't know where to hit it.  She's never had to deal with a bear before.  Where could she stab to kill it?  What if she stabs it in the wrong place and just weakens it?  What if she doesn't even affect it?  She doesn't know what kind of stuff the capitol may have put into this thing...

  She forces her thoughts away from all that and pushes down her worries.  She focuses on the grip she has on her knife, makes sure her feet are in the right place...

  And then, as soon as the creatures first paw claws onto the top of the beam itself, she darts forward in the all-too familiar way.  She attacks it before it can attack her, lunging and holding onto an exposed piece of pipe on the pillar with one hand, and uses the other to dig the blade of her knife into the thing's arm, which is about the only part of it she can reach. 

  Fortunately, the strength with which she stabbed it is enough to deter it partially.  She cringes when it roars, pulling its paw back off the beam, but not having a steady enough grip on the pillar.  She watches the body fall all the way down, landing on the ground with a thud.  She feels the adrenaline coursing through her veins, feels the light sheen of sweat on her skin. 

  And then, after a few moments of watching, the thing starts to move.  It twitches at first, and then sniffs the air, and then starts to stagger up.  It seems that all the fall managed to do was confuse it.  It shows no signs of being hurt.  

  For a second, she feels like sobbing.  She doesn't know how to kill this thing- doesn't even know where to start.  And even then, even if she knew the anatomy, there was no guarantee it would die.  For all she knows, it could be a fucking robot- all metal and wires on the inside and no flesh or bone.  She would die trying to kill this thing, and then it would just go on to kill Lamina, and then Mizzen and Tanner, then Coral and Treech and Lucy Gray and everyone else until there's only one survivor.  The thought alone nearly sends her into a state of panic.    

  But then she sees the blood pooling out of its arm and onto the arena floor.  Bright and red, it coats part of its fur, and Sylvia doesn't miss the fact that when it puts weight on the injured arm, it staggers and almost falls over before it catches itself.  It starts to walk around- standing, but disoriented and injured.  And Sylvia knows there's at least a chance she can kill this thing.  The chance of that is small- the chance of her surviving it, even smaller- but that doesn't change the fact that she has to try.  

  Turning to Lamina, she sees the other girl is already looking at her.  Her eyes are shining with unshed tears again, and there's a deep look of sadness on her face.  But there's also hard determination, and she takes in a shaky breath when Sylvia looks to her. 

  "I have to kill it."  Sylvia speaks, her voice low as she purses her eyebrows.  Fuck, does she feel like crying.  The last thing she wants is to leave Lamina- especially when she knows the chances of her coming back are so low- but she knows the has to.  "I can't fight it up here forever.  And sooner or later it will go after everyone else.  And you." 

  There's a moment of silence.  Then... 

  "I know."  Lamina says quietly.  She nods so softly Sylvia almost doesn't see it, but then she nods harder, as if she's trying to convince herself.  She reaches up and wipes her eyes even though no tears have fallen yet.  "I know."       

  Sylvia opens her mouth to speak, then hesitates.  There's a chance- a huge chance, bigger than she'd like to admit- that this is the last time she'll see Lamina.  Part of her wants to tell her everything.  Wants to just scream out every thought she's ever had about Lamina and the fact that she's madly in love with her.  She wants Lamina to know how she feels before she dies, even if she doesn't feel the same way.  

  Does she tell her?  Just speak, just say it and get it all out and over with?  Or does she just die without ever telling her? 

  Ultimately, her body makes the decision for her.  Before she can really process it, her feet are carrying her towards the pillar and she's stepping carefully but quickly off the beam and onto it.  Below her, the creature is a few yards away from the pillar, just starting to really get its stability back as the confusion and delirium from the fall seems to wear off.  But it's still bleeding.  Which is a good thing.  

  The moment she starts to descend down the pillar, the sound of Lamina calling her name grabs her attention. 

  She looks up, her hand clutching onto the small holds in the stone pillar, eyebrows furrowed.  Lamina slips her axe into her belt again as she moves forward quickly, a determined look in her eyes as she purses her eyebrows.  

  Before she can even say anything, Lamina bends down, one hand holding onto the pillar and the other cupping Sylvia's jaw.  She feels the press of Lamina's warm lips against her cheek, remaining there for a second or two before she pulls back.  

  Sylvia's eyebrows raise significantly, her eyes widening slightly.  Lamina just looks sad, her face a mix of acceptance and determination all in one.  

  "You can get a real kiss when you come back to me."  Lamina says firmly, her gaze flickering over Sylvia's face.  Not 'if', no hypotheticals.  She says it as if she's more sure of this one thing than anything else before in her life.  

  Speak or die.  Tell her everything- spill her guts- and admit to everything she's felt for Lamina?  Or die, and take all of it to her grave?  She's not sure if it's better or worse now that she knows there's something there.  She doesn't know how deep it goes, or how strong Lamina's feeling for her are.  But she does know that to some degree, Lamina feels the same. 

  All she can do is nod, her lips pursing in a thin line.  She'll survive, she decides.  She'll kill this monstrosity of a creature that the capitol designed to kill her.  And then she'll go back up on the beam.  She'll go back to Lamina.  She'll survive no matter what it takes- at least for now. 

  And then she's descending the pillar quickly, looking back and forth between the stone and the creature.  She hops the last few feet to the ground, landing in a slight crouch with her knife gripped in her hand.  Looking around, she tries to see if there's anything she could use to her advantage- but there's nothing except the rubble littering the ground, and the cornucopia.  

  The sound of metal scraping the ground draws her attention back to the creature's paws.  It stomps the ground, a low rumbling sound coming from its throat... and then it's charging.  

  She has just enough time to dart to the side, not having expected the pure speed of the creature.  Her eyes widen and she feels the adrenaline flowing through her veins as her fight or flight instincts kick in- thankfully, it's always been fight.  

  The creature stumbles to the ground as it tries to stop and change direction to run after her, and its own momentum sends it staggering.  Her eyebrows furrow as she takes mental note of that.  It's something she can use against it.  

  Behind it, she sees Coral starting to get up, but she can't see Mizzen or Tanner from where she stands.  Breathing heavily, she turns and starts sprinting in the other direction, trying to get the creature to follow her away from both Lamina and the others- the last thing she wants is for it to kill someone else before she gets a chance to end it.  

  She hears the thing running behind her, pounding at the ground as it lunges and grows closer.  Whipping her head around, she sees how close it is- closer than she had expected- and she throws herself to the side at the last second, swiping blindly with her knife as she does.  

  There's a stinging pain that erupts in her shoulder as she stumbles to the ground, and she cries out in pain, her hand reaching up to feel it.  Her shawl is ripped- the thing's claws cutting right through- and her fingers come away stained with blood.  

  The creature's loud roar mimics her own cry of pain, and she looks up to see a large cut on the side of its neck- assumedly by her own knife.  It stumbles, shaking its head as if it's forcing down the pain- which is exactly what Sylvia's doing as she stands up, readjusting her grip on her knife.   She looks down at the blade and sees the blood and strands of fur covering it, then looks back up at the creature as she tries to ignore the pain in her left shoulder.  

  "Sylvia!"  

  Lamina's shrill scream echoes throughout the arena.  She sounds more scared than she's ever been before.  

  Against her better judgment, she risks a glance at where Lamina is on the beam as she backs up a few steps.  She staggers slightly, freezing when she sees Coral scaling one of the pillars, trident in hand and a look of determination on her face.  And on the other pillar-

  Sylvia's eyes widen when she sees Mizzen carefully climbing the other pillar, the same pillar she was climbing down just a minute ago.  Even from here, she can see his whole body shaking as he yells something to Coral, but Sylvia can't process the words.  She doesn't even really process the fact that Tanner is standing underneath the beam, his body language hesitant and his face unsure.    

  All she can process is the look of genuine fear on Lamina's face as her eyes dart between Coral and Sylvia, her hand gripping her axe. 

  "Lamina!"  She yells, forgetting all about the stupid capitol mutt and the fact that there's a gash in her left shoulder.  She starts to run towards the beam, and makes it all of two steps before there's a force slamming into her and tackling her to the ground.  

  She yells as she lands on her side, and all she can see is dark brown fur and hateful, violent eyes staring down at her. 

  And then there's pain.  So much pain that Sylvia doesn't even really know what to do other than scream and slash wildly with her knife.  The feeling of the metal claws slashing across her back and over her shoulder- dangerously close to her neck- is worse than anything she's experienced.  The pain of it is like a burn, spreading through her body and out into her limbs.  

  Her ears start to ring and the only thing she can hear clearly is Lamina screaming her name.  

  She feels the blade of her knife digging into something, and when she manages to focus past the pain, she sees the creature above her thrashing about so violently that it stumbles off of her, taking her knife with it.  It roars so loud that Sylvia swears she feels the ground shake, and paws desperately at its eye socket where her knife is embedded, but only succeeds in driving it in deeper.  

  Ignoring the blinding pain that shoots through her body with every movement, she flips onto her stomach and tries to force herself up off the ground.  She pushes up with her arms, but her left shoulder quickly gives out under her weight, and she screams in pain as the wound burns white hot.  

  "Lamina!"  The scream of the girl's name escapes her lips.  Her eyes find the beam again, watching helplessly as Lamina tries to fight off both Coral and Mizzen.  

  Lamina's on the beam, crawling backwards as she frantically tries to avoid Coral's trident.  She slashes at Lamina's feet, just barely missing as her trident strikes the beam.  She's not getting close to Lamina, instead stabbing at her with her trident and hoping to catch onto her.  

  And then Mizzen's behind Lamina, holding onto the same exposed piece of pipe that Sylvia was holding onto earlier, slashing his knife at Lamina.  He's yelling as he does it, a shriek escaping his lips.  Sylvia thinks he's crying, but she can't be sure through all the chaos.  Lamina gasps, whipping around to face him and swinging blindly with her axe as she forces herself to her feet. 

  Mizzen shrieks again, slashing his knife at Lamina and forcing her to take a step back, and then-

  Sylvia screams just as Lamina gasps, Coral's trident digging into her back before the district four girl pulls it out abruptly.  

  "Lamina!" She screams helplessly again, panic and adrenaline flowing through her body.  She tries pulling herself up, half-crawling and half-staggering as she tries to get to the beam.  She has to help Lamina, has to stop Coral and Mizzen.  She can't watch Lamina die, she can't-

  She screams in agony as a new pain spreads throughout her body, the creature's claws digging into her hip and pulling her back to the ground.  She thrashes wildly, trying to escape its claws, trying to get out from underneath it, trying to get to Lamina.  

  Flipping onto her back, she reaches out, grasping for anything she can get her hands on.  Her ears are ringing again, but she can just barely make out the sound of screaming and fighting and metal clanging against metal.  She feels tears streaming down her face, and she's unsure if it's because of the consuming pain spreading throughout her body and rendering all her senses useless, or if it's because Lamina is fighting for her life on the beam and Sylvia's stuck underneath this fucking mutt.  

  The metal of the creature's claws digs farther into her hip, slashing her skin and tearing her flesh nearly down to the bone.  It's slashing and clawing at her and biting and she's just barely avoiding it all.  Her fingers grasp onto something, and she doesn't even care to look at what it is before she's bringing it forward and slamming it into the creature's head as hard as she possibly can.  

  She feels bone break as the rock in her fist slams into the thing's skull.  It lets out another roar- this one more broken than angry.  It's claws retract from her hip, and she slams the concrete against it's head again, pushing back the memories of Bobbin and the capitol boy from the night before.  

  It's head swings to the side, and she drops the concrete and grabs the knife from its eye socket, wrenching it free.  

  "Sylvia!"  Lamina's voice is panicked and shrill.  "Sylvia! Sylvia, please-"  She's cut off by her own gasp, and Sylvia instantly fears the worst.  She feels her heart drop, as if she knows exactly what's happened without having to see it.  

  She thinks she screams, but she's not entirely sure as she stabs the blade into the creature's neck.  

  Whipping her head around, her eyes just manage to catch onto Coral's trident impaled through Lamina's stomach.  Sylvia screams again, tears streaming down her face as everything starts ringing again.  She tries desperately to force herself off the ground, but her arms give out underneath her weight and she can barely move her legs.  

  Coral holds Lamina's body off the side of the beam, looking down at her as she slides off the prongs of the trident.  And Sylvia watches, screaming and crying so much her voice goes hoarse, as Lamina falls down, down, down, until her body hits the floor with a dull thud, throwing dust up off the ground. 

  It's like she feels something break inside of her.  Like something physically cracks and weighs down on her.   She feels pain, rage, fury, heartbreak, disgust, sadness, terror...  there's too many things to count- too many things for her to deal with. 

  She hears the creature move again, coming back for her.  This time, there's nothing holding her back when she turns and stabs her knife through its neck before it can touch her.  Blood spurts from the wound and splatters onto Sylvia's face.  It covers the blade of the knife, it covers her hand.  It's sticky and it's red and it's all Sylvia can see.  

  The creature roars, shrieking in pain.  Sylvia stabs again, knife going right through its head. 

  She hears Mizzen crying somewhere in the distance, and Coral's voice.

  The knife plunges into the creature's eye socket, and it falls to the ground with a thud. 

  It roars weakly in pain.  She brings her arm back over her head, stabbing again. 

  Tanner calls her name.  She stabs again.  

  And again.  And again.  And again.  Until the creature stops moving entirely, and her hands are covered in blood, her skin sticky with it.  

  When her eyes look up from the unidentifiable mess of fur and bone that used to be a mutt, the first thing she sees is Lamina's body lying on the ground, the dust still not having fully settled around her. 

  And she sees Mizzen, looking at her with tears streaming down his face as he tries to yell something to her.  

  She can't help the rage she feels when she looks at him.  The despair, the pain.  Her fingers clench around the hilt of the knife, coated in so much blood she can't even see her skin.  She sobs, her eyes moving to Coral and the trident in her hand- the prongs of it covered in Lamina's blood- as the red head pulls Mizzen away to follow Tanner and Treech.  

  She doesn't care.  She sobs, tears streaming down her face so fast she nearly chokes on them.  She staggers to her feet, the pain in her body blinding.  The knife drops from her hand, clattering to the ground as Sylvia's sobs echo throughout the arena.  

  Unable to identify where the pain is coming from other than that it's not her legs, she picks up a quick pace, nearly running to Lamina.  She's hoping, praying that she's still alive, that there's a chance.  If she's still breathing, she can help her.  

  Her legs feel like they're going to give out, but she doesn't let that happen until she reaches Lamina, collapsing to her knees at the girl's side, sobbing.  

  "Lamina."  She sobs, the single word broken.  Her eyes try to focus on Lamina's chest, trying to catch onto the rise and fall of it, but she can't focus on anything past the tears.  She reaches up, trying to wipe them away, but she only succeeds in smearing the blood over her face.  

  Everything she knows about injuries is gone.  Everything she knows about makeshift bandages and stopping blood flow and healing wounds- it's all gone.  She tries to wrack her brain for something- anything- but nothing comes.  She presses her hands desperately to Lamina's stomach, trying to stem the flow of blood as she sobs, her breathing so shaky she almost can't get any air in.  She's panicking and she knows it but she doesn't care.  

  Despite that, she just manages to hear the soft whisper of her name.  She thinks she's hallucinating, but then she hears it again. 

  "Sylvia..."  Lamina's voice is weak and shaky, but at least she's speaking.  It means she's breathing.   

  Sylvia inhales shakily, trying to get air in her lungs.  "Lamina, Lamina please..."  She begs hurriedly, sobbing again when Lamina's pale hands move to slowly close around Sylvia's wrists.  Lamina tries to pull them up towards her face, but she's so weak that her hands shake and almost give out by the simple movement alone.  

  But it's clear enough what she wants, and Sylvia doesn't care that she gets blood on Lamina's skin as she cups her face.  She opens her mouth to say something, but she doesn't know what. 

  She's a fool.  An idiot.  She should've spoke- should've told Lamina everything, even if she was going to die fighting that creature.  But this is wrong- all wrong.  Lamina should be up on the beam, surviving.  Sylvia should be the one bleeding out on the ground, her life draining second by second.  

  "Lamina,"  She breathes shakily, the word cut off by a sob that wracks her body.  She strokes her thumbs over the other girl's cheeks, hoping the blood on her hands can be some sort of exchange.  Anything to bring Lamina back.  "Lamina, please.  I-"

  I can't do this without you.  I can't watch you die.  I can't live knowing you're gone.  I love you.    

  The sob that rattles her body again prevents her from saying any of that.  She squeezes her eyes shut, her head dipping as she sobs, shoulders shaking as she cries.  

  Lamina gasps softly, a small sob shaking her body.  It's all she can manage to do.  Her hand comes up, her fingers gently wrapping around Sylvia's wrist, stroking her thumb over the back of her hand.  The touch is so familiar that Sylvia wants to die right then and there.  At least then she would still be with Lamina- she'd still have this little bit of familiarity in her final moments.  

  "Sylvia..."  Lamina murmurs weakly, her voice somehow soft and broken at the same time.  It shakes as if she's on the verge of crying.  Sylvia forces her eyes open, another sob wracking her as she sees Lamina.  

  "You... you're a good person."  Lamina whimpers, her eyebrows pursing as a single tear streaks down her cheek.  She inhales but it seems like she can't get enough air.  "Don't let this change that."  She breathes, her voice growing weaker and weaker by the second, as does her grip on Sylvia's wrist.  

  Sylvia sobs, her hands on Lamina's face and her fingers in her hair, trying to bring her back.  Trying to keep her awake.  She can't do this.  She can't, she knows she can't.  She's not strong.  She's not good.  She's not brave.  Lamina is all those things, always has been and always will be.  She just wants Lamina.  It's all she wants.  Her and nothing else.  It's always been her. 

  Lamina's lips part, a breath slipping past them that seems like it was meant to be a word.  She seems to struggle to find the strength to speak, her eyebrows pursing as her grip on Sylvia's wrist loosens almost completely.  She just feels the vague brushing of Lamina's thumb on the back of her hand.  

  "I..."  Lamina chokes back a sob, her eyes filled with an unnatural sadness, the deepest sorrow Sylvia's ever seen.  "I lo..." 

  The word hangs in the air between them, never to be finished.  Never to be spoken.  It will haunt Sylvia for however much longer she has to live.  

  It takes Sylvia a moment.  Just a moment to react.  Then her eyes widen as Lamina's hand slips from her wrist, falling to her chest.  Panic and despair seizes her all at once.  

  "Lamina?"  Her hands hold her face, then move hurriedly to her shoulders, shaking her softly.  "Lamina?"  Her voice grows louder with desperation.  Why isn't Lamina waking up?  Why is she doing this to her? 

  Her eyebrows purse and she sobs again, shaking her head as tears stream down her face.  "No, no, please.  Please come back.  Lamina."  She begs, "Sweetheart, please, please don't go.  Please don't leave me alone."  

  A sob wracks through her, shaking her to the bone.  She feels more alone than she ever has in her life.  More than when she was out in the desert with nobody else around for miles.  

  "You were supposed to live."  She whimpers weakly, hands moving to Lamina's face again as her gaze flickers across her features.  "I was supposed to die.  That's what we said, that's... that's how it was supposed to go."  

  Something is building up in her and she feels like screaming.  She feels like there's a gaping hole where her heart once was.  The blood flowing from the wounds covering her body isn't what's killing her right now- it's the empty feeling in her chest.

  "Sweetheart, please come back."  She begs again, as if she does it enough it will bring her back.  "Please, please, please."  She's willing to do anything to bring her back: kill herself, bargain, sell her soul... whatever it will take.  

  Her hands shake more than they ever have in her life.  She's never been religious, but the prayers for the auburn haired girl to come back slip past her lips like water.  

  But no amount of desperation or delusion can bring Lamina back.  Back to life, back to Sylvia.  Her eyes stay open, blankly staring up at the beam from which she fell.  Sylvia wishes she would blink and focus on her, but deep down she knows.  As much as she doesn't want to admit it, she knows.  She knows that no matter how hard she tries, no matter how many times she prays, or how much she hopes, or how loudly she screams... Lamina's eyes will never focus on anything ever again.

Notes:

I made a funny meme that I put at the end of this chapter on Wattpad... it was a photo of Katniss and Peeta with the caption "the star-crossed lovers that made it out of the arena" and then a pic of a red head and a brunette that was supposed to be lamina and Sylvia, with the caption "the star-crossed lovers that didn't"
sorry I think im funny

Chapter 17: the victors

Sylvia's not sure how long she sits there- on the floor of the arena, slowly bleeding out as she desperately tries to bring the girl she loves back from the dead.  

  It could be minutes, or hours.  She doesn't think it's days, because the blood loss would've killed her at that point.  And unfortunately, she's still alive.  

  She doesn't stop crying for all that time.  First she screams, desperately pleading for Lamina to come back over and over and over again.  And then when she loses her voice almost completely, she resorts to whispering softly, her forehead pressed against Lamina's shoulder, her hands still on the other girl's face.  The blood on her skin has dried, as if it's the final step in Lamina's death. 

  For however long she sits there, she doesn't hear anything other than her own pleading whispers and cries.  There could have been and explosion, or gunfire- the other tributes could have all killed each other- and she would never have known.  Because all she's focused on is the body laying on the ground in front of her.  

  The only thing her eyes see is a few inches of the arena floor under her, and the fabric of Lamina's shirt.  Her forehead doesn't leave Lamina's shoulder, scared that if she pulls back even an inch, the whispers that slip past her lips won't reach her ear, and then she'll never come back. 

  Of course, she's not coming back either way.  Sylvia's not sure if she's accepted that or not.  She doesn't want to.  Maybe she never will.  Maybe she'll spend the rest of the time she has left to live waiting for Lamina to sit up and speak to her.  

  She's so focused on it that she doesn't register the presence of another tributes until she physically can't produce any more tears, and her begging whispers have become incoherent mumbles.  She feels so tired, so sluggish, and somewhere deep down she knows it's the gaping wounds on her body that are slowly draining her of her blood- and therefore, her life. 

  A hesitant touch on her shoulder makes her gasp, abruptly breaking her out of the half-catatonic state she had slipped into due to her own grief.  Her hands shake and she can't seem to completely steady herself as she slowly raises her head.  It takes her a few moments, and then even longer than that to actually look away from Lamina's face. 

  If she had the energy, she would have been surprised to see Reaper standing over her, his face contorted in pity and grief.  But there's something else there... something like determination... defiance, maybe?

  Sylvia's too drained to try and figure it out.  

  For a moment, she thinks he's going to kill her.  She hopes for it, even.  Her eyes scan his hands for a weapon, but she sees none.  

  "I'm sorry."  He speaks earnestly, kneeling down on the other side of Lamina's body so he can be face-to-face with her.  His voice is the first thing she's heard other than her own for what feels like forever.  He glances to Lamina's body, then back up to her.  

  She wants to sob and scream and cry again, but she doesn't have the energy.  She inhales shakily, the simple movement sending pain coursing throughout her body.  The adrenaline is all gone, seeping out of her body alongside her blood.  Now, almost all she can feel is the pain.  

  "I am, too."  Her voice is soft, nearly a whisper.  But in the otherwise complete silence of the arena, she may as well have yelled it. 

  She's sorry that they all had to be here.  Sorry that they've been forced to fight and kill each other.  Sorry she couldn't do more.  Sorry that she failed Lamina.  Sorry that Lamina had to die.  

  Her eyes find his face again, and he nods softly.  His voice is low when he speaks.  "I was gonna..."  He gestures to the far wall, where the blood red flag of Panem hangs.  "I was gonna tear it down.  Put it over them." 

  When he says it, her eyebrows furrow softly, and she turns away from the flag to look back at his face.  "Over who-"

  She cuts herself off when her eyes catch onto the floor of the arena behind him, just a foot or two away from Lamina's body.  Marcus is still there, but next to him is Bobbin.  Sylvia's almost a little surprised to see that his head doesn't look as bad as she thought it did.  There's just... blood, all matted into his blonde hair.  She wants to cry her eyes out all over again.   

  But it's who's next to him that actually makes the tears start falling for the second time.  A single sob escapes her lips, and she tries to stand, but her legs are shaking so bad she can barely get up into a kneeling position.  

  Reaper seems to realize, and he stands up.  He's careful to step around Lamina's body and not over it, and he reaches down, allowing her to drape her arm over his shoulder as he wraps his own arm around her torso.  

  He's as gentle as possible when he pulls her up off the floor, but it still makes her groan in pain.  She clenches her teeth and hisses through them, but this pain is nothing compared to what she feels when her eyes move back to the two bodies next to Bobbin. 

  Reaper guides her over to them, and then gently eases her back onto the floor, right next to Tanner.  She exhales shakily, wanting to sob but holding it back.  Her hands move to his head, settling on top of his hair.  There's blood seeping from his stomach, but through all the layers of leather and suede he's wearing, she can't make out what the injury actually looks like.  His eyes are closed, and she hopes it's Reaper who did it.

  When she sees him, the first thing she thinks of is the first time she ever saw him.  When she was fourteen and his Pa had hired her to protect their cattle from coyotes.  She had just been ending her shift that lasted through the night, and he was only just waking up to start his chores on the farm.  He had come out of the house and seen her, and the first thing he ever said to her was him asking if she wanted to know about his eye.  He had been sweet and excited and loved her horse, saying that if he wasn't set to work in the slaughterhouse soon, he would have wanted to be a Hunter.  

  They had spoken for an hour or two- so long that she was late back to the Hunters ranch, and Tanner didn't finish all his chores.  But she didn't care.  She never had.  There had been a few times after that where she had seen him around-- playing three-card monte with some of the slaughterhouse workers on the rare breaks they had.  Or at the barn dances, or at the occasional wedding.  They never really spoke again- not like they had the first night they met, but she always remembered him.    

  And now his eyes are shut, never to open again.  All the excitement and sweetness is gone.  All that remains is a corpse that grows colder with every passing minute.   

  Next to him is Dill.  Sweet, caring, innocent Dill.  Who hadn't wanted to take Sylvia's water after she offered, even with her cough.  Little Dill, who had fought to survive until the end, even with her sickness.  Who had played go-fish with her.  Who was so impressed by her card trick and took amusement and joy from the smallest things.  

  And now she was dead, too.  Eyes closed and a small line of blood streaming from her nose.  

  "What..."  She sobs weakly, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath as she forces herself to calm down, even as her hands shake.  "What happened to them?"  She asks pleadingly, looking up to Reaper.  

  There's tears in his eyes now as his gaze remains set firmly on Dill.  After a moment, he shakes his head.  "I don't know."  He admits lowly.  "I just... me and Dill were coming out of the tunnels.  I told her to go ahead of me.  I... I was right behind her."  His voice breaks slightly, "I only came up a minute after her, but... by the time I did, she was laying on the ground..."  He cuts himself off with a shaky inhale, and Sylvia just nods, not wanting to hear any more.  "Tanner was already there.  I don't know what happened to him... I'm sorry."  

  She just nods weakly, unable to really say anything for fear she'll break down into tears again. 

  Her gaze wanders back to the cameras on the walls, trained on the bodies.  On her and Reaper.   She couldn't give a damn about them watching her, or even Reaper... but the thought of the sick fuckers in the capitol looking at the bodies of the people she cares about?  

  Looking back to Reaper, she gestures with her head to the flag on the far wall.  "I'll help you cover them."  She declares, nodding to herself.  

  All Reaper does is nod, but she catches sight of the relieved look that washes over his face momentarily.  Knowing she's too shaky to make the walk over there, he turns and starts navigating across the arena floor, making a beeline towards the flag. 

  As he does, she looks back to Tanner.  Other Hunters in district ten say that when someone dies, they usually look more peaceful than they did in life.  But Tanner doesn't look peaceful.  He looks... well, she doesn't really know.  His lips are pulled just slightly downward, and she has no issue imagining the grimace of pain that must of been on his face as he died.  

  She doesn't even care about the fact that he stood under the beam and watched Lamina die.  That wasn't his fault.  She had been the one to encourage him joining an alliance, after all.  But she can't bring herself to feel even an ounce of anger for him.  All she feels is sorrow and grief, filling her body and causing an ache in her chest.  

  Her gaze travels back to the feather she had given him the night before the games.  Once tucked into the leather cord on his hat, and now tied onto the leather cord wrapped around his waist.  She takes a calming breath, ignoring the shake in her hands as she tugs the feather gently out of his belt, holding it as gently as possible.  

  Every district has their own traditions for the dead.  District two is scattering breadcrumbs.  District eleven- as far as she knows- has the three fingered salute.  

  In district ten, a feather is braided into the hair of the deceased, so that when their soul passes on, the lightness of the feather helps them fly into the big open sky where their soul can rest.  Usually the braid is done with strands of leather and string.  But she doesn't have that.  What she does have is love for her district partner, and the determination to give him this one last thing.  She couldn't save him, but she can do good by him now. 

  With shaking hands, she takes a section of his hair and parts it into three strands.  And then she starts to weave.  Left over center, right over center.  Left over center, right over center.  The movements have been ingrained into her muscles from all the braiding she does on her own hair, and it only takes a few moments before the feather is braided firmly into his hair.  

  The rustling of fabric and footsteps catches her attention, and she looks up just as Reaper returns- the flag of Panem trailing on the floor behind him.  

  Good, she thinks.  Let it get dirty.  Let it trail and rip and be covered in the blood of all the children the Capitol has killed in these games.      

  This time, she's much less shaky when she pushes herself up from her kneeling position.  It takes her a moment, but she manages to stand up on her own, even though the ache in her legs is ever-present and the pain in her body is only getting worse with every minute that goes by.  She can't manage to straighten her back all the way- the minuscule stretch of it causes her wounds to emit a stabbing pain- but she does manage to grab onto one of the corners of the flag. 

  Reaper nods to her, carrying the flag to the other side of where the fallen tributes lie, and together they lay the flag over the bodies.  

  Sylvia gets one last look at Tanner and Dill's faces, and then Bobbin's, before they're all covered in the blood red fabric.  

  The flag contorts, the shapes of the bodies underneath making mounds under the flag.  It could almost be a map- one reflecting the atrocity that is the games, showcasing the cruelty of the capitol. 

  But at the same time, it's a last rite for the tributes.  They'll never get a proper burial- not from the capitol.  They'll be cremated after the games and sent home in wooden boxes with nothing but their names and district on them.  Nothing of the person they were will be shown.  Whatever traditions their district has for the dead will not be honored- not to the extent it should be, at least.  

  So the least Reaper and her can do is cover them.  Keep their bodies hidden from the cameras- from the prying, sadistic eyes of the people in the capitol.  

  Sylvia can only pray that someone will be as kind to her when her time comes.    

  Her feet carry her back to the edge of the flag, where Lamina lies underneath.  Tears well up in her eyes again, and her eyebrows purse, her breathing becoming shaky once more.  There's a small bit of hope in her that she'll see Lamina's hand twitch, or she'll hear her breathing...

  But there's nothing.  When she kneels back down besides Lamina's body and pulls away the flag just enough to see her face, it's as cold and still as it was a few minutes ago.

  Her hand reaches out blindly, fingers clenching onto her hat that sits on the ground a foot or two away.  It had fallen off when she climbed down the beam to fight the mutt, and she never got the chance to put it back on.  

  Looking down at it, her eyes catch onto the three feathers tucked into the strand: a hawk, and two black vulture feathers.  She's not sure what the funeral traditions are in seven- she if it's anything like their wedding and birth traditions, she assumes it has to do with something relating to the trees that represent them.  She knows Lamina's tree is an evergreen.  And while she doesn't have anything relating to that, and can't give Lamina the rites she would get in seven, she can at least do her best to give her something.  

  She plucks one of the vulture feathers from her hat, and gently starts braiding it into Lamina's copper strands.  As she does, Reaper's voice echoes through the arena, screaming in defiance at the camera on the wall across from them.  But he's behind her, and she can't focus enough on his voice to process what he's saying.  All she can focus on is the task at hand, weaving Lamina's hair over itself into a braid that holds the feather. 

  She takes her time with it, more than she had with Tanner.  Not because he's less important than her, but because she wants to hold onto Lamina for as long as she can.  She doesn't care what part of her it is, just that it's her and no one else.  

  The braid- by the time it's finished a few minutes later- is firmly weaved around the feather. Sylvia makes sure it won't slip out, and once she does, she lets her hands fall back down.  She inhales shakily, her gaze flickering over Lamina's face.  

  She remembers her smile.  Her eyes.  The way her nose would scrunch when she found something unsavory, or the way her lips would upturn just slightly in a smirk if she found something funny.  She thinks of the way her eyes looked in the sun, an amber color that was almost gold, and how they looked when there was no sun around- the brown color so dark they were nearly black.  

  The more she thinks, the more shaky her hands get.  Across the flag, Reaper sinks to his knees.  His face is one of acceptance and disdain.  She's sure her face is similar.  

  She looks at Lamina's face one last time before she tugs the flag back over her body, covering her from the view of the cameras and the hungry eyes of the capitol. 

  Part of her wants to stay here on her knees, next to Lamina.  She'll wait until someone comes to kill her- Coral, probably.  She assumes there's not many tributes left.  

  But then she hears metal crashing and yelling, the sound echoing throughout the arena.  Even though she's tired and bleeding out, she manages to pinpoint the source of the noise quickly.                  

  Lucy Gray runs out of one of the entrances, panting heavily as her eyes flicker around the arena.  She looks like a scared animal running from a predator, and a moment later, Sylvia understands why.  

  Coral runs after Lucy Gray, trident in hand.  Sylvia forces her gaze away from the prongs of it, not wanting to think about the fact that they're probably still slick with Lamina's blood.  Her gaze, instead, finds Mizzen, who's clambering down from a pile of rubble and chasing after Lucy Gray right behind Coral.  

  She doesn't miss the way his feet stagger as he catches sight of her, or the way his hand starts to shake.  Even from this distance, she can see his eyes widen as his lip starts to tremble.  He looks to her, then to Coral, then back to her.  He looks like he wants to say something, or start crying, or both.  

  Unfortunately, he doesn't have the chance to do either of those things.  

  The sound of whirring catches their attention just as the wind around the arena picks up unnaturally, as if someone's blasting air into the space.  Sylvia stands, one hand coming up to shield her eyes from the sun as they start to water from the force of the wind.  And then she sees it- something like a drone, but much, much bigger.  And in its grasp is a large black tube, seemingly made of some kind of glass.  

  Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as the drone descends into the arena, making the wind pick up.  It pushes the dust and dirt out of the center and out to the sides of the arena.  The sound of it is deafening, and she'd be lying if she says she doesn't cringe from the noise.  

  None of them can find it in themselves to move, all of them watching the new addition to the arena with fear or worry in their eyes.  The cable on the drone starts to lower the tube onto the cornucopia, right near the body of the mutt.  

  Sylvia takes the chance to glance to her right side.  A few yards away, Mizzen is already looking back at her, lips trembling and eyes wide with fear as his grip on the spear becomes almost non existent.  Even Coral- who this whole time has been nothing if not confident and sure- looks scared.  

  Dust continues to fly as Sylvia finds herself unconsciously inching backwards, her steps slow and unsure.  She looks away from the three tributes to her right, and back to the tube as it touches down on the stone of the cornucopia.  The wire snaps, the clang of it echoing and making her flinch.  

  The drone exits through the hole in the roof of the arena, the wind dying down with it.  For a moment, all Sylvia can hear is her own breathing as she continues to back up.  The tube is black, and she knows it's done on purpose so that none of them can see what's inside.  She can't help the dread that settles in her stomach, causing her breathing to quicken.  She can barely feel the pain of her injuries anymore, or maybe she's just too focused on what's in front of her to process it. 

  Her hands shake as her steps continue to carry her backwards, and before she knows it, she's yards away from the bodies under the beam.  There's an all consuming silence for a few moments as the tube sits there, almost seeming to glare down on all of them.  

  And then a vaguely familiar voice breaks through the silence, accompanied by small, unsure footsteps that have Sylvia pausing in her walk.  

  "Is it over?"  Wovey whimpers, appearing almost out of nowhere.  Sylvia hadn't even realized the girl had survived this long- especially on her own, since at least last night.  Wovey sniffles, walking slowly towards the cornucopia.  "Can we go home now?"

  "Wovey."  Reaper warns, titling his head, lips pursed.  "Wovey!"  He calls, louder. 

  "Please!"  Wovey begs, a sob escaping her small frame.  She's close to the cornucopia now, only a few feet away.  

  She hears Reaper's voice warning the girl again, but her attention is much too focused on another sound to care.  It's familiar- so familiar, in fact, that for a moment she thinks her mind is playing tricks on her.  Her eyes widen and her breath hitches, and only when the sound continues and the glass of the tube starts to crack, does she realize the sound of hissing snakes is not just in her head. 

  And then the glass shatters, and a tidal wave of snakes explode out of it.  Wovey screams, the sound cut off not a second later by the reptilian bodies.  

  Sylvia eyes widen in horror, but she's already turning and running.  Her body is weak, but the adrenaline and terror pumping through her veins is enough to push her forward.  The sound of hissing fills the arena, and she hears Lucy Gray and Coral gasping behind her, the shock wearing off as the snakes slither quickly over the rubble- much quicker than Sylvia would have thought.  

  Her boots pound against the ground, just barely avoiding tripping over chunks of rubble and stone.  She doesn't know where she's running towards.  All she knows is that there's no way she can fight of thousands of snakes- especially these ones.  There's no doubt in her mind that these are more mutts fabricated by the capitol- the unnatural brightness and rainbow hue of their scales tells her that much.  

  This might be the most scared she's ever been in her life.  She had been ready to die- or at least, she thought she was.  Now that death is looking her in the face- coming after her in the form of thousands of slithering bodies- all she wants to do is get away from it.  She can barely think straight past the panic seizing her body, making her temporarily forget about all the wounds she has, all the emotional and physical pain.  

  Someone screams behind her, and the sound of it is so achingly familiar that Sylvia doesn't think before she turns around, staggering to a slow stop.  Her eyes widen when she sees Mizzen- his spear and net gone, his knife tucked uselessly into a sheath at his hip.  He's horrified, the tears are shining in his terrified eyes and his mouth is open in a scream, and Sylvia is suddenly reminded of just how young he is.  

  She doesn't care what he's done.  Doesn't care that he helped kill Lamina.  He could have done the worst thing imaginable, and in her eyes, all she would be able to see is a scared little boy.  

  Before she can react, a rainbow body is wrapping around his ankle, the force of it dragging him to the ground as he screams in pain and terror.  

  "Coral!"  His voice is hoarse and thick with horror.  She can see the wave of snakes behind him, rapidly approaching his body as he tries relentlessly to get up.  "Sylvia!  Sylvia, please-" 

  And she's already running.  Before her name had even left his lips.  Any ounce of self preservation she may have had is gone.  Her only thought now is of saving Mizzen, even as the snakes dig their fangs into his body and he thrashes around, screaming as he tries to pull them off.  

  Her boots pound the floor as the screams slip past his lips, and before she knows it, she's sliding onto the floor next to him.  He screams as he clings to her, his fingers digging into her shawl.  She pulls him to her chest so she gets the worst of it.  She wants him to live.  She wants him to be okay.  She doesn't want him to die- not like this.  Never like this.  

  She hears him scream her name again, just before the wave of snakes consumes them, the rainbow bodies flooding over them.  They rush over their heads, plunging them into darkness as the feeling of millions of scales travels over her skin.  She holds him as close as she can, his face tucking into her neck as he screams and she bites her lip to keep from doing the same. 

  The last thing she ever feels is Mizzen's hands clutching her, and a thousand fangs piercing her flesh.  

  Her last thought amidst all the pain and agony, is that she'll see Lamina soon.  

  And just like that, in a tsunami of rainbow bodies, Sylvia Thornton's life comes to an end.

Notes:

hey.... how y'all doin...
yeah guys sorry that bitch is dead... dead as hell LMFAOOOO
gonna high-key low-key miss Sylvia... she was my girl yk?
but anyway... end of an era ig

Chapter 18: the setting sun

The sound of the canyon wind worms its way into Sylvia's mind.  The smell of the earth and sand.  The feeling of the desert breeze on her skin.  The sight of the big open sky above her.

  Her eyes blink open, momentarily blinded by the sudden light amidst the darkness of her unconsciousness.  

  Wait... unconsciousness? No, that can't be right.  Dead.  She's dead. 

  Or at least, she's supposed to be.  Because as her eyes adjust to the light of the setting sun spilling through a singular, dusty window... she is decidedly not dead.  

  Instead, she's in a room, the sight of it almost familiar.  Old wooden boards make up the floor and walls, and the smell of dust and dirt is strong.  So strong that she wrinkles her nose slightly and sits up in... bed?

  She's in a bed.  If this whole situation weren't so fucking strange and confusing, she might be glad for it, after sleeping on the ground of the enclosure and then the stone beam.  

  Looking down, she notes the simple bed frame, the rickety mattress.  There's a single cotton sheet covering her body.  Her body, which should be- if her memory serves her right- covered in the puncture wounds of a thousand rainbow snakes.  But instead of that, all she sees is her usual scars, the ones she had grown used to bearing after years of having them.  

  She pushes the blanket off of her, and notes the fact that she is not in the clothes she was wearing in the arena.  Her skirt is gone, replaced by a simple brown pair of pants.  Her leather top is gone, in its place a loose fitting t-shirt.  

  What the fuck is happening?

  Her eyebrows furrow as a thought hits her, and she reaches up to her left shoulder, pulling the shirt down carefully.  Underneath, bandages are wrapped around her shoulder, covering the wound given to her by the first capitol mutt.  After checking, she finds her hip, and her right shoulder and part of her back are the same- bandages expertly applied, and the pain that should be literally killing her is nonexistent.  

  She moves her body carefully, still unsure if there's any leftover pain.  As she swings her legs carefully off the bed, she looks around the rest of the room.  To her immediate right is a small nightstand with one drawer, and an old oil lamp sitting on top of it.  There's a door on the far side of the room, but she doesn't quite want to see where it leads yet.  Maybe she is dead and this is just... a weird waiting room, and on the other side of the door is Heaven.  If it even exists.  She still doesn't know.  

  Standing up, she feels the wood beneath her feet as she walks around the bed towards the left side of the room.  Her steps are slow and unsure, and for the first time in her life she can confidently say she has no idea what the fuck is happening.  

  The golden light streaming through the window pane is the only form of comfort she has right now.  She feels it warming her skin in such a familiar way that tears spring into her eyes.  Maybe she wouldn't mind staying here for the rest of eternity- if this was, indeed, Heaven... or something like it.  

  But as soon as she looks out the window, she decides that this is not Heaven.  Heaven wouldn't taunt her like this, with the very thing she had been praying for and wanting ever since she was shoved into that cattle car with Tanner.  Heaven wouldn't be so cruel as to taunt her with the image of home.  

  Outside the window the sun is setting, and the big, open sky accompanies it.  It's painted in shades of red and orange and yellow and pink, like so many other sunsets in ten.  She feels a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, her fingers twitching as she presses her hand against the glass. 

  In the distance, the canyon stretches out, spanning towards the horizon.  She knows this canyon, practically lived in it.  She knows it like the back of her hand, can navigate it easier than she can navigate the bunkhouse.  

  The wind outside picks up, pushing through the cracks in the walls of the room and whistling around.  The sound of the canyon wind reaches her again, a sound she never thought she would hear again.  A sound she'd been dreaming of since that first night in the zoo.  A sound that- by all logic and reason- she should not be hearing. 

  She shouldn't be hearing the canyon wind.  Shouldn't be seeing the canyon.  She shouldn't be feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin as it passes through the glass. 

  And she definitely shouldn't be hearing Magnus's voice on the other side of the door.

Notes:

okay so maybe I lied... the bitch is not dead

I told y'all Im a liar I love to lie

Chapter 19: love like ghosts

The sound of Magnus's voice on the other side of the door is enough to pull her away from the window.  

  She can't decipher his words, but she knows that voice.  There's not a single doubt in her mind that it's Magnus.  His voice grows louder, and then lowers as he seemingly walks away from the door. 

  For a moment, she stands in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do.  She doesn't know what's happening, or what to do.  She's also not entirely convinced that she's not dead.  

  But the only thing she knows for sure is that Magnus is somewhere nearby- on the other side of the door- and she'll be damned if she's going to let anything- short of dying- keep her from getting to him.

  Still barefoot and in someone else's clothes, she walks quickly to the door and swings it open.  She's greeted with the sight of an empty hallway.  To the right, the hallway extends pretty far- the walls on both sides lined with door similar to the one she's holding open.  It's all some kind of smooth stone, one that's found in ten, but relatively uncommon- it was usually reserved for only those in the district who had excess money to spend.    

  In between her door and the one next to it is a small cart with several metal trays on it, each one of them holding an array of what look to be surgical tools.  Sylvia glances up and down the empty hallway, then grabs a scalpel and holds it tight in her hand, pressing it flat up against her wrist so that it's out of view from anyone standing in front of her. 

  Just then, a voice from down the hall and around the corner reaches her ears.  Her eyes widen, and she quickly slips back into the room, shutting the door almost all the way, leaving it open just enough so that she can just barely see out into the hallway.  

  "Thank you so much Richard, I'll be sure to check it out when I have a spare moment."  

  Sylvia's slightly startled when she realizes the voice she hears is one she already knows.  And though it takes her a moment to place it, she eventually recognizes the unique tone and inflection of the capitol doctor from the enclosure. 

  "I'm going to bring around a pill for each of you.  It's a supplement to make you all look livelier for the audience on camera."  She can distinctly place the voice now.  With the voice comes the memory of the enclosure, of the doctor bringing around pills for them, of Lamina-

  She tightens the grip she has on the scalpel.  She doesn't want to think about Lamina, or of her corpse underneath the beam.  

  Realization hits her like a train.  If the doctor is here, than that means...

  Sylvia feels the pinprick of tears in the corners of her eyes, desperation accompanying them.  She's still in the capitol.  She must be.  Why else would the doctor be here?  She had been stupid to think she was anywhere else.

  She doesn't know what game the capitol is playing now.  It was bad enough that they had ripped 24 children from their homes and forced them into an arena to slaughter each other- but to not even let her rest?  To somehow keep her alive and in the capitol? Sylvia had known there were fates worse than death, but she thinks this might be one of the worst ones.  

  The telltale feeling of rage and anger boils up inside her before she can stop it.  The tear that streaks down her cheek goes unnoticed, and the shaking of her hands is quickly brushed off.  She hears the click of high heels coming down the hallway, and even without looking, she knows it's the doctor.  

  Fuck this, she decides.  Fuck the game makers, fuck the peacekeepers, fuck the doctors, and most of all, fuck the capitol.  Screw morals.  There's no point in having them if she's supposed to be dead anyway, right?

  The shadow of the doctor passes by the door, and Sylvia opens it soundlessly.  She grips the scalpel tighter as she creeps up behind the doctor, who's embarrassingly clueless.  

  The scalpel blade is pressed against the woman's throat before she can utter a single sound, and Sylvia's hand is darting out to pull her arm behind her back, almost painfully so.  Not that Sylvia cares much about the pain the doctor may or may not be in.   

  "You move so much as an inch, or make a single sound, I will slit your throat right now."  She mutters into her ear, eyes glancing around the hallway for any sign of anyone else.  

  She's never felt like this before.  She's confident she could slit this woman's throat and feel nothing- she doesn't even know the woman's name.  It would be easy, too.  Especially when she remembers everyone she lost in the games- Lamina, Mizzen, Tanner, Dill, Reaper, and all the other kids who had their whole lives ahead of them.  It would be so easy- just a single flick of her wrist and this woman's blood would be spilling out of her.  

  To her credit, the woman does as she's told.  Probably because she's aware of how dangerous Sylvia is with a blade in her hand. 

  Glancing around again, Sylvia tugs the woman harshly back into the room she had woken up in, shutting the door silently behind her.  Spinning her around, she moves the blade just enough to be able to push the woman towards the bed.  

  "Sit down."  She hisses, feeling her anger rising by the second.  She can barely get the word out as the scalpel shakes in her fist.  

  The woman does as she's told, which is unfortunate, because Sylvia really would've liked an excuse to stab the scalpel straight through her eye.  

  When she sits on the edge of the bed, shaking, but otherwise seemingly unbothered by the whole situation, Sylvia's instantly suspicious.  She had been expecting the woman to scream, or at least be crying.  She would've for sure thought that the doctor would have had some kind of device to silently alert the peacekeepers as to what's happening. 

  But no.  If anything, she looks content.  Even her shaking, which had been prominent when she first sat down, has dwindled down to nothing.  She looks... relieved, if anything.

  Sylvia had been ready to ask her questions that could be answered with a shake or nod of the head- but now she's thinking she might as well just let the woman speak.  If she doesn't like what she has to say... the scalpel is always in her hand.  

  Nodding once, she gestures to the doctor.  "Tell me what's going on." 

  The doctor looks surprised- probably because she had been expecting an interrogation, which was Sylvia's original plan.  The look of surprise is quickly swept off her face, though, and a small smile replaces it.  

  "Ms. Thornton," The woman begins.  "I'm Dr. Hill.  I'm not sure if you remember me, but-"

  "You brought us the pills the morning of the games."  She cuts off coldly, her gaze leveling into a glare.  She rolls her eyes, waving her hand and the scalpel absentmindedly in the air.  "Yes, I remember.  You're hard to forget.  And not in the good sense."  She looks pointedly at the scar on the woman's face, then back to her eyes.  

  Dr. Hill's lips purse into a thin line, and she shifts slightly, crossing one leg over the other.  The movement makes Sylvia flinch, her grip on the scalpel tightening as she looks for some sort of device or weapon the doctor may be reaching for.

  "The pills given to yourself and the other tributes were not to make you look livelier.  They were... an experiment we've been working on, so to say."  Dr. Hill continues, pointedly ignoring the scalpel in Sylvia's hands.  

  Scoffing, Sylvia twirls the scalpel in between her fingers.  "Great.  So not only is the capitol forcing kids to fight to the death, you're also experimenting on us?" 

  Dr. Hill's lips turn up slightly into the ghost of a smile, shaking her head slightly.  "Not the capitol."

  Sylvia's eyes narrow, suspicion and confusion creeping up inside her all at once.  "Then who?"

  Sighing, the doctor gestures to the nightstand with her hand, raising her eyebrows.  "May I?"  She inquires, producing a key from her pocket.  

  Narrowing her eyes, Sylvia takes a step forward.  "I'm not an idiot, and I'm certainly not lettin' you reach into a locked drawer.  For all I know there could be a gun in there."  

  Lips pursing, Dr. Hill nods.  "Fair enough.  What's in there isn't for me, anyway."  She admits, holding the key out for Sylvia.        

  The statement does nothing except confuse Sylvia more, but she cautiously takes the key.  "Stand up against the wall.  I don't want you runnin' off while my back is turned."  She stands where she is, watching her carefully.

  "They told me you would be stubborn."  The woman chuckles.  "And dangerous."  

  Sylvia doesn't want to think about who 'they' is, she just watches the doctor as she stands and goes to lean against the wall. Only then does she crouch down in front of the nightstand, jiggling the key in the lock for a few moments while glancing back and forth from the lock to the woman.  She feels a click, and then pulls the key out.  

  Opening the drawer, her eyes widen a little bit.  Inside, is all her jewelry- she had noticed the familiar, comforting weight of it all was missing when she woke up, but she hadn't thought about it in her confusion.  

  Shifting, she glances at the doctor, and then speaks as she starts taking her jewelry out and putting it on, piece by piece.  She'd be lying if she says she's not relieved that it's here, but she's also confused.  Why would the capitol keep her personal effects that have no use to them?

  "So who are you?  If not capitol?" Sylvia inquires, slipping on her necklaces and rings.  Her eyes scan the bottom of the drawer, and she lets out a sigh of relief when she sees the bracelet of wooden beads spelling out Lamina's name.  She pulls it on hurriedly, cradling it to her chest subconsciously as she looks to the woman for an explanation.

  A small smirk takes over Dr. Hill's face as she leans against the wall, hands tucked neatly behind her back.  "In short? Rebel."  

  As much as doesn't want to admit it, that's an answer she doesn't see coming.  Her eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing.  She opens her mouth, then closes it when she can't think of what to say.  Her hands shake slightly, and she moves up just enough to sit on the edge of the bed.  

  Sylvia had figured there were still rebels, even after the war.  The bombing of the arena before the games had only confirmed it.  

  Dr. Hill's eyebrows purse in sympathy, and she takes a hesitant step forward.  When Sylvia doesn't attack her, she moves to sit on the floor a few feet in front of Sylvia.  "May I explain?"  She requests, and Sylvia can only really nod.  

  Taking a breath, Dr. Hill interlocks her fingers, resting them in her lap and looking up at Sylvia.  "As I'm sure you've gathered, the rebellion was not quite wiped out after the war.  There will always be a spark, whether the capitol likes it or not.  Someday, I hope that the spark will catch, and maybe the country will be free.  Unfortunately, that day is not today.  And I doubt it will be in our time- maybe when you're older, but I doubt it." 

  "This sounds more like a depressing story than an explanation. "  Sylvia grits out, still unsure of where the woman is going with this.  The wrist that Lamina's bracelet is on is still tucked close to her chest- it's the last thing she has of Lamina, and she'll be damned if she loses it.    

  Dr. Hill chuckles slightly, lips quirking into a smirk as she nods.  "Yes, I suppose.  I apologize.  Sometimes I get caught up in the hope of it all.  But that's neither here nor there.  What you need to know is that the rebellion- however small it is- is still functioning.  And it still has contacts all throughout Panem- including the capitol."  She pushes her glasses up on her nose, head tilting as if she's considering where to start.  "I'll start from the beginning, I suppose.  I take it that your mentor told you what happened to district thirteen in the war?" 

  The mention of Magnus makes Sylvia grimace slightly.  For a moment, she's reminded that he's somewhere here, in this building, and her eyes glance to the door.  Or maybe he's not here.  Maybe in her desperation she had imagined his voice.  She feels the pinprick of tears in her eyes as confusion fills her.  

  How was she supposed to believe any of this?  Was this even real?  There's still the chance that she's dead and this is merely some kind of horrible limbo.  Or maybe she's in the capitol, and this doctor and her stories and faker sympathy are all part of some elaborate rouse to get her defenses down.  For all she knows, there's peacekeepers listening from the other side of the door waiting to come in and subdue her.  

  She doesn't realize she's panicking and gripping the blade of the scalpel itself until Dr. Hill gasps softly.  The sound brings Sylvia out of it, but doesn't alleviate her panic or confusion.  Something wet drips down her wrist, and she looks down to see that it's her own blood.  

  The doctor is moving to sit on the bed next to her, and Sylvia is so panicked that she doesn't even care.  There's tears streaming down her cheeks and all she can feel is confusion.  

  Dr. Hill gently pries the scalpel from her grip and sets it on the nightstand, her eyebrows furrowed.  "I understand you're confused."  She soothes, taking a roll of gauze and bandage out of her jacket pockets.  "Trust me.  I can't imagine how you're feeling, but believe me- this is real.  This is not a trick of any kind.  The Capitol and the arena are far, far away."  

  Dr. Hill pats the wound with gauze and starts wrapping the bandage around her palm, and Sylvia lets her.  "I don't understand."  She says shakily, tears streaking down her cheeks.  "I thought I was dead.  The snakes, they..." 

  "They certainly did a number on you, I'll admit."  Dr. Hill muses, eyebrows raising as she remains focused on the monotonous task of wrapping the bandage around and around Sylvia's hand.  "Between your wounds from that other mutt, and then the snake venom that was pumping through your body... for a moment there, we thought you were a lost cause.  But Magnus wouldn't let us give up." 

  The doctor saying his name out loud makes her eyes widen, gaze snapping up.  "Magnus?  He... he's really here?"  Sylvia asks hopefully, voice shaking. 

  "He is.  Just... he's a little pre-occupied at the moment.  But he gave me this to give you."  The woman leans back- the bandage now fully wrapped around Sylvia's hand- and pulls the flap of her jacket back.  

  She doesn't see what she's reaching for, until she produces Sylvia's hunting knife, still in its sheathe like it was the day of the Reaping, when she had given it to Magnus.  The doctor offers it to her, and she can't grasp it quick enough.  A small smile breaks out onto her face as she clutches the sheathe in one hand and the handle of the blade with the other.  She pulls the knife itself out, catching sight of her own reflection in the impressively polished metal.  She had never managed to get it this polished in all her years, and her eyebrows furrow slightly.  

  "Magnus sharpened and polished it every day you were gone.  Said he wanted it nice for you for when you came back."  Dr. Hill explains softly.  

  The sentiment makes Sylvia smile a little bit more, her hair falling around her face as she keeps her attention on the blade.  The small, handcrafted beads and the feather she had tied to the straps of the leather hilt are still there, dangling freely.  The image of the moon she had branded into the sheathe of it is still visible, after all this time.  

  Then her eyebrows furrow in confusion, and she turns to the doctor.  "What do you mean, for when I came back? He... he knew I wasn't coming home.  He must have.  He knew I wasn't gonna kill anyone.  Why would he be expecting me?"

  Something in the doctor's eyes lights up, and she grins a little.  "Let me explain, and everything will make sense.  I promise."  She assures, smiling as Sylvia slips the blade back into the sheathe.  She doesn't have her own clothes on, so she settles for holding the sheathe in her lap as she nods, listening to the woman.  

  "During the war, the capitol bombed district thirteen, as I'm sure you know."  Dr. Hill continues, and Sylvia nods.  Everyone knows the story- the capitol needed to make an example of someone to make the other districts surrender, and thirteen just happened to be the biggest threat at the time.  The capitol had killed two birds with one stone.  

  "As I said, the rebellion had contacts in the capitol.  One of them managed to alert some of those in thirteen."  The doctor adopts a sad look, almost regretful.  "They were... too late, for the most part.  The capital took thirteen by surprise, and even with the underground nuclear bunkers, it wasn't..."  She takes a shaky breath, adjusting her glasses again, "There wasn't enough time for most people to make it to them.

  "However, the spies the rebellion had in the capitol managed to help thirteen keep a secret.  A little before the war started- when the sparks of rebellion were just beginning to fly- a couple of citizens from thirteen went higher up into the mountains.  If you go high up enough, navigation stops working.  I'm not that kind of scientist, but my colleagues tell me it's something to do with... the scrambling and loss of signal in the mountains, and crosswinds and cloud cover, and... whatever, that's not my expertise."  She huffs and waves her hand through the air as if batting away a fly, and Sylvia can't help the slight quirk of her lips. 

  "Anyway, moving on.  To make a very long story short, a small town was started in secret, up beyond the mountains in thirteen.  A few citizens would leave the main areas of thirteen at a time and travel, few enough to not be noticed by peacekeepers.  And slowly, rebels helped a few select people from other districts to get there, too.  We needed a variety of people to start it and get it going.  The spies in the capitol kept attention away from it, and honestly, they're still doing it today." 

  Sylvia's eyes widen slightly.  She shifts her position to face Dr. Hill better.  If was she's saying is true... 

  "The town... it survived?"  She asks incredulously.  "You're saying it's still there?" 

  "And thriving."  Dr. Hill confirms with a proud smile, nodding.  "The entirety of where thirteen used to be is- believed by the capital to be- a nuclear wasteland.  In all honesty, it's not.  But we have enough contacts in the laboratories and government to convince the capitol it is.  So no one goes out there.  And even if they did, well... there's no way for them to know about the town.  We call it Soter.  It's small, with just about... four hundred people?"

  "And the capitol... has no idea it exists?"  Sylvia asks slowly, her fingers fiddling absentmindedly  with Lamina's bracelet.  

  "None at all."  Dr. Hill confirms again.  "But... you'll learn more about it later.  I'm sure what you really want to know, is how you survived."  

  Sylvia hesitates, then nods.  The sudden epiphany that there is something of a rebellion headquarters- outside of district thirteen, way up north, no less- doesn't distract her from the fact that she should be dead.  

  "Soter has good doctors... great, actually.  Before the war broke out, there were experiments being conducted in some of the labs.  To make another long story short, most of the progress was lost during the war and the bombings.  A few years ago, we managed to get our hands on some of the original equations and experiment notes."  

  "What were the experiments for?"  Sylvia inquires, eyebrows furrowed.  Thirteen's infrastructure had been based on nuclear things- weapons, mainly.  Sylvia never really understood any of it, and she still doesn't, which she's sure doesn't help with her confusion.  

  "They were creating machines to help speed up the healing processes of the body.  I think the end goal was to be able to slow down the aging process, but that was deemed unattainable after the war.  And though we couldn't exactly replicate the original products, we did manage to get somewhere close.  It wasn't supposed to be tested for another few years, but after you were reaped for the games, Magnus insisted on them being used this year.  The pills we created aren't an exact science, but can heal injuries in the body to an extent, or help fight off diseases or infection.  Things that would usually be fatal." 

  Understanding hits Sylvia all at once.  "The pills you gave us in the enclosure the morning of the games."  She realizes, her breath almost hitching.  

  Dr. Hill nods.  "They have to be taken orally in order to enter the body.  Injecting them directly into the bloodstream was deemed too dangerous- there's too many variables we couldn't be sure of.  Essentially, the pills rapidly speed up the body's healing process.  It manages fine when the person is awake, but works even better when they're asleep and resting.  And even then, the body has to be allowed to cool down afterwards.  It's why you were asleep for so long."  

  "That's why..."  Sylvia hesitates, fidgeting with Lamina's bracelet.  Realization fills her voice.  "The injuries I got from the mutt... they should've killed me.  I was surprised I was even able to stand afterwards, let alone run." 

  Nodding, Dr. Hill continues.  "Yes.  It didn't work on all of you- some of your injuries were too fatal, and we hadn't planned to be administering the pills this early.  There's still so much we don't know.  But some of you-"

  "Wait, wait."  Sylvia cuts her off hurriedly, eyes wide.  She feels something dangerous rising up in her- something like hope.  "Some of us?  There's other..."  She breathes shakily, eyebrows pursing.  "Some of the others survived?  It's not just me?"  Her voice is weak and shaky, and yeah, the hope if rising rapidly in her chest.  

  "Yes, a few of the others-"

  "Lamina?  Did she survive?"  Sylvia demands, voice cracking as tears well up in her eyes again.  "Did Lamina survive?" 

  Dr. Hill only just starts to nod, "Yes-" 

  The single word is all Sylvia needs to hear.  She abandoned her knife on the bed as darts across the room, swinging the door open and emerging in the hallway, ignoring Dr. Hill calling her name behind her.  

  "Lamina?"  Sylvia yells, voice desperate.  She doesn't care what kind of state Lamina's in, doesn't care what she looks like.  All she cares about is if she's alive.  "Lamina?!"  

  And then she's sprinting through the halls, passing door after door and turning down random corners blindly.  The building isn't even that big, but because of the state she's in, it may as well be a maze.  

  "Lamina?!"  She screams again, turning a corner.  This time, she hears another voice call out, achingly familiar.  

  "Sylvia?"  Lamina yells back, her voice muted but still audible.  It doesn't matter how low it is- all Sylvia knows is that she's somewhere in the building.  

  She hopes and prays to whatever is out there that this isn't her imagination.  She would give anything for this to be real.  She wants to tell her so much, wants to spill her guts and tell Lamina she loves her every chance she gets for the rest of her life.    

  Darting down another hallway, another yell leaves her lips.  "Lamina?!"  

  At the end of the hallway, a figure darts out from another room.  The golden light of the sun spills through a window at the end of the hall, silhouetting the figure.  

  She recognizes Lamina immediately.  The way the sunlight shines on her copper hair and makes it golden, circling her head like a halo.  The shake of her breath right before she cries, the sound of her voice as she calls Sylvia's name again.  Her presence, even from the opposite end of the hallway, envelops Sylvia totally, until it's all she can think about. 

  Lamina, Lamina, Lamina, Lamina... 

  Her feet are moving before she can even process it, tearing down the hallway and meeting Lamina halfway. 

  They collapse into each other like waves, melding into the other's body as soon as they make contact.  The two of them collapse to the floor, a tangle of limbs as the overwhelming feeling of happiness and relief floods them both.  She feels Lamina everywhere, feels her presence and her hands and her hair between her fingers.  Feels the tears streaking down Lamina's face and onto her shoulder as she sobs, her head buried in Sylvia's neck as her hands clutch at her shirt.  

  Sylvia can't feel the tears streaming down her own cheeks, or the shake of her hands as she holds Lamina's head and grips her shirt.  All she feels is relief and the sense that everything is okay.  Like the world had been tilted wrong and is suddenly back on its axis.  There's nothing else she needs- just Lamina.  Only Lamina.  

  "I love you," She sobs, face pressing into the side of Lamina's head as she cries.  "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..."  

  She repeats it like a prayer.  She's not religious, but if she believes in anything, it's Lamina.  She thinks this is the closest to Heaven she'll ever get, if such a thing exists.  She'll say it every second for the rest of her life, if Lamina wishes it.  

  She hears Lamina sob again, and then pull back from her shoulder.  Her hands unclench from Sylvia's shirt, and before she can even process the loss of the feeling, they're holding either side of Sylvia's face.  

  And then- without warning- Lamina's lips are pressed against her own.  And she knows that if she were to die right now, she would be okay with it. 

  She lets Lamina lead her blindly as her eyes flutter shut, all her senses overwhelmed by the auburn haired girl.  On instinct, Sylvia pulls her as close as she can, her hands gripping Lamina's shirt and tangling in her hair.  She feels Lamina's whole body relax under her hands, and feels Lamina's hands cradling her face in turn.  Her lips are chapped and they're both desperate, but neither of them care.  She feels the vague sensation of butterflies in her stomach, and she can admit without a doubt that this is what love is.  

  Lamina pulls away, eyes still shining with tears.  Her hands still cradle Sylvia's face, and Sylvia moves her hand to cup Lamina's jaw.  

  Sylvia wants to kiss her again.  Over and over and over, for the rest of her life.  Without the feeling of Lamina's lips against her own, she feels unsteady again- unsure and desperate.    

  "I love you, too.  So much."  Lamina sobs softly, eyebrows pursed as she says the words.  But relief fills her tone, and her lips are slowly pulling into a smile that lights up her face.  It lights up the hallway, shines brighter than the sun shining through the window.  It makes Sylvia, smile, too.  

  Something between a sob and a laugh escapes Sylvia, and her smile spreads into a small grin.  This is really happening.  Lamina is really here, alive, with Sylvia.  The thought that she might be holding a ghost doesn't even cross her mind- as if all her worry and fear and confusion from before has been dispersed by Lamina's presence.  

  She leans forward again and presses her lips to Lamina's, soft and sweet.  All she feels is Lamina's hands on her face, and her hair threading through Sylvia's fingers.  She brushes her thumb over Lamina's cheekbone, feeling her skin underneath her own.  

  "I'm sorry,"  Sylvia murmurs when they pull apart again, their faces mere inches apart.  "I'm so sorry.  I couldn't save you, I couldn't-"

  Lamina cuts her off with another kiss, and Sylvia doesn't even attempt to continue.  She melts into the kiss again like she did the first two times.  Her pinkie drifts over Lamina's neck as she cups her jaw, and she leans back as Lamina presses forward slightly.  

  She pulls back, and her grip on Sylvia's face doesn't loosen.  But she's still holding Sylvia with all the gentleness in the world.  "Don't do that.  Please don't do that."  She begs, eyebrows pursed as her gaze flickers across Sylvia's face.  "It's not your fault."

  Sylvia's eyebrows purse, her eyes softening, and all she can do is nod.  She rubs her thumb over the side of Lamina's head and leans into her again.  Just to make sure she's really here, with Sylvia again.  

  And she is.  They're both here, both alive.  Despite the games, the mutt, the beam, the capitol... they're alive.  They're together.  For Sylvia, that's all that matters.

Chapter 20: in the wind

TWO YEARS LATER

 

Before the games, Sylvia never would have thought she'd become so attached to a group of- for all intents and purposes- total strangers formed into a ragtag group of survivors. Especially not in such a short amount of time. Even more astonishing, she never would have thought she'd be out of the districts, in a town that the capitol has no record of, in a place that isn't supposed to exist.

It's something she thinks of almost every day now that she- and the eleven other surviving tributes- are living in Soter.

The acclimation hadn't been easy, of course. Once they had all woken up in the safe house back in district 10 a year ago, there had been... a variety of reactions. Above all, there had been confusion, and anger. Sadness, from those whose district partners didn't make it. But it was all to be expected. After all, a few days before waking up, they had all been fighting for their lives and trying to kill each other.

One thing she distinctly remembers is the way Mizzen had cried after it all. For a good day, he was inconsolable- so worried that Sylvia would hate him for what he did, even after she had used her last moments to try and save him, to take the brunt of the snakes attacks.

It took a good week of staying in the safe house- mostly in separate rooms- for everything to settle. For them all to realize that it wasn't any one of their faults- it was the Capitol they had to blame. For everything.

Thankfully, over the two years that they've been in Soter, they had learned to live with each other. To coexist and cooperate and even make friends amongst one another. After all, there wasn't really anybody else in the small village that could ever know what they went through.

Not to say that the locals weren't kind. They were more than welcoming when Magnus and Dr. Hill had first brought the twelve of them to the town. They were given homes- five cabins on the edge of the small town, each having two bedrooms and more than enough space for two tributes to live in. More than that, they were given jobs, mostly in order to feel normal again- nothing demanding like it had been in the districts. Smaller tasks, as there was no actual form of money in the town, given how small it is. Any jobs were for the betterment of the community, for prosperity. And Mizzen and Dill- the youngest of the group of them- were enrolled in the town's school, and soon they had made friends their own age.

The same school that Sylvia is currently waiting outside of for Mizzen and Dill's class to end so she can walk them home. Not that they need it- the town is small and everyone knows everyone. But she likes to take walks and she knows it makes Mizzen and Dill happy to see her, so she takes the thirty minutes or so out of her day to bring them back to the row of cabins that the twelve tributes inhabit.

The creaking of the schoolhouse door makes her straighten up, leaning slightly to the side so she can see the door past the few parents that wait for their kids. Before long, she sees Dill's tawny curls, and hears Mizzen's laugh as they walk towards her excitedly.

A small grin splits Sylvia's lips, and she raises her eyebrows a little as the two kids approach her. "How was school?" She hums, taking Dill's book strap gently from her and slinging it over her own shoulder. Even after being rescued from the games, there were a few things that had lasting effects in some of them- Dill's former tuberculosis, for instance, left her slightly weaker, and more prone to headaches.

"Good." Mizzen grins, a little skip in his step as the three of them start down the dirt road. "Ms. Alma was teaching us how to do complex division... or something. I don't know. I don't really get it." He doesn't sound very upset about it, though. Sylvia's noticed he's good at that- just brushing things off so they don't affect him.

"Mm, I'm sure you could ask Teslee about it later." Sylvia suggests, tilting her head as they walk, adjusting the coat on her body... the coat which is most definitely Lamina's, now that she's thinking about it. "She's good at the numbers and stuff."

Despite not really caring about the math, Mizzen brightens at the prospect. "Okay!"

Sylvia leans forward a little, raising her eyebrows at Dill, who walks on the other side of Mizzen. "And you? Anything fun today, hun?" She asks, despite the fact that Mizzen and Dill have the same class.

Dill shakes her head, her curls bouncing around her face. "Not really. I mean- the teacher talked to us about identifying berries in the woods, but I already knew it all."

Mizzen huffs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "Of course you did. Smarty pants." He mutters the last part, but Sylvia and Dill both hear it, the latter nudging him and laughing as he pretends to stumble.

By the time they reach the cabins, it's only twenty minutes later, and Sylvia waves bye to Dill as she drops the girl off at her and Reaper's cabin. Mizzen follows her to her own cabin, the one she shares with Lamina. At this point, she thinks he's there with them more than he's at his own cabin with Coral. Mostly because Coral likes helping out with fishing at the lake, and doesn't usually come home until well past when the school lets out.

Walking inside, Mizzen automatically plops down at the small circular table in the kitchen like he's done a million times before. Sylvia shuts the door behind them, pulling off the jacket and hanging it on the hook next to the door. She doesn't immediately see Lamina, but by the sound of axe splitting wood that echoes through the open kitchen window, she assumes she's in the backyard.

"I'll make you something to eat, yeah?" She hums, ruffling Mizzen's hair as she walks by him on the way to the back door, hearing his vague agreement as she walks onto the back deck. Just like she thought, Lamina's out there, in one of her flannels, chopping wood. Probably for the fireplace, but maybe for more of the figurines she likes to carve.

Sylvia whistles, the sound echoing sharp through the air, and Lamina looks up from the logs, axe poised in her hand to deliver another blow. Smiling a little, she nods towards Lamina. "I'm making lunch... dinner?" She says, glancing at her watch with furrowed eyebrows, then shakes her head and looks back up. She'd never been the best with keeping track of time. "Whatever. Are you almost done?"

Lamina's lips quirk upwards in amusement, and she nods. "I'll be in soon." She answers, holding the axe handle with one hand, her other hand tucking some of her hair behind her ear. The movement makes the band on her left ring finger catch the sunlight for a moment- the ring that matches the one on Sylvia's own left hand.

Sylvia nods, turning to go back inside as the sound of axe splitting wood echoes through the backyard again. She raises her eyebrows at Mizzen as the screen door shuts again. "You got homework?" She asks expectantly, already knowing the answer. Mizzen is notorious for coincidentally forgetting about his homework and then doing it at the last possible moment.

In response, Mizzen groans and slumps dramatically in the chair, looking up at the ceiling. "Sylvia-" He starts to whine, and she cuts him off.

"Nah, nah, I don't wanna hear it." She says as she busies herself with getting the cutting board and a loaf of bread she picked up earlier that day, trying to hold back an amused smile. Because if she smiles, then she's gonna laugh, and then Lamina is gonna have to be the one to lecture Mizzen. "You remember what happened last time? You didn't tell me about your project, and you put it off for a week. And then the night before you had to bring it in to school, what did you do? You pleaded with me to help you with it, and then I had to go out and collect pine needles and berries for you to show the class with your project-"

"Okay, okay, I get it." Mizzen huffs, frowning and sitting up in his chair again, his feet kicking the table lightly. "But I don't have any homework tonight, so it's like... whatever."

Sylvia turns away from where she's cutting the bread, raising a single eyebrow at him with a deadpan look on her face. "I call bullshit- don't repeat that. Should I go and ask Dill if y'all have homework?" She asks dryly.

Mizzen sighs, groans, slumps into his chair again, stays that way for a good minute or two. And then finally reaches into his bag and pulls out the allegedly nonexistent homework, dropping it dramatically on the table.

"Thank you." Sylvia says pointedly, smiling a little, going back to cutting bread.

Twenty minutes later, Treech and Tanner walk in the front door, shutting it behind them and toeing off their boots. Sylvia turns, then rolls her eyes in faux annoyance, one hand absently stirring the stew she's making. "Wow, come right on it, why don'tcha? And don't track mud on my carpet." She says pointedly to Tanner.

Tanner just grins, coming over to where Sylvia's standing, ruffling Mizzen's hair on the way and ignoring the slap the boy delivers to his arm. Treech disappears out the back door to where Lamina is.

"Aw, look at you, bein' a little trophy wife." Tanner teases, poking her in the side and wincing at the smack she lands on his shoulder.

"Yeah, ha ha, laugh it up. Not like you make the same joke every time you come over." She huffs in exaggerated annoyance as Tanner takes the seat next to Mizzen.

"Well every time I see you, you're doing domestic shit. Kinda boring." Tanner shoots back, leaning over to look at Mizzen's homework, promptly making a disgusted face, and then looking back to Sylvia.

"You literally saw me at work today." She points out with raised eyebrows. While Sylvia works as livestock guardian and helping out taking care of the animals at the barns, Tanner processes the products that come from them. He'd taken up sheep shearing and milking quick, and he was already good at skinning and butchering the meat.

Tanner just huffs, waving her off. "Yeah. That's work, though, it don't count." As if that's any real kind of answer.

 

Much later that night, Treech, Tanner, Lamina, and Sylvia enter the large barn in one of the fields near the edge of town. Previously, it had been used for animal care. But after the new, larger barns were built, this one was cleaned up and repurposed into a place for the town to gather and unwind after long days and celebrate. Sylvia and Lamina's wedding had been held in the field outside of the barn, at the edge of the woods, underneath the trees. The reception and subsequent party afterward had been inside the barn.

Currently, there's a small group of people on the small stage playing music, light and happy. On one of the far walls, people are gathered around a cluster of tables, playing card games or eating or drinking. Near the door, some of the kids of the town- Mizzen and Dill included- are gathered in a circle, laughing as they play games. Sylvia catches sight of Mizzen showing some of them the same card trick she had shown him in the zoo before the games, and she smiles a little.

The door closes behind them, and Sylvia steps in front of Lamina, fingers still interlaced with hers. She pecks her lips, smiling amusedly. "Wanna dance?" She hums, already tugging Lamina towards the cleared out space in the middle of the barn, where other couples are dancing to the music.

Lamina just laughs, the sound like bells, and lets Sylvia navigate them through the crowd and to the middle of the dance floor. There's no real set dance to this song, no boot stomping or hollering like some of the celebrations here elicit. This song is slow, the type they can just sway to, talking and watching everyone else sway.

Their hands interlocked, Sylvia's hand on Lamina's shoulder and Lamina's hand on her waist, they sway smoothly, stepping in time to the music. They talk in low, hushed tones, smiling softly at each other. Sometimes it's so easy and gentle that Sylvia thinks she can't bear it, and sometimes she wants to cry because she never thought she would get to have something like this in her lifetime. Certainly not something that makes her feel as light and warm as looking at Lamina's smile does.

But she has it, and it's hers. It's theirs. And nobody can take it from her- not the Capitol, not the Games. Not anymore.

Notes:

... hey

listen its literally been over a year since I updated THAT'S MY BAD YALL

this chapter is actually SO ass but I wanted them to have SOME kind of closure and happy ending sooooo uhh yeah here it is

im gonna try to start writing more again so be ready for that I might be insufferable

also was playing with the idea of making a bones and all au of this fic for my own enjoyment tehehe

Notes:

a/n: this is such a random fic but y'all.... lamina's too good of a character like that's LITERALLY my pookie pls br fr. anyway I saw NO fanfics of her so im taking initiative and ignoring all the other unfinished fics I have im so sorry