The Bloodbath

The sun never set in the Capitol. She thought that was a shame- surely the citizens would have loved to see the stars. Even Larissa, a decidedly not sentimental person, had only been away from them for a short while and felt the yearn to see them again. She hoped that wherever this arena was, the stars came out at night. Looking up at the sky now, it was only a dull black, bleeding into the gray-pink of the Capitol's light pollution. It was, she supposed, beautiful too, in its own way. But there were also things more important than beauty.

"You should sleep soon."

She accepted that there was no place she could run to that Romeo wouldn't eventually find her in. She kept her eyes on the sky.

"I should."

A pause. He was waiting for more.

"I'll be down shortly."

Finally, she saw him move from where he'd been- leaned up against the doorframe- to climb back down the stairs. Once he was gone, she pulled out the pad of paper and ink pen she'd been concealing beneath her leg and continued working on what might've been her fortieth iteration of mapping out every building and street she could see from her vantage point. Her knuckles ached, and there were bloody grooves worn into the places where her fingers held onto the pen. She'd gotten good enough at redrawing them at this point that she rarely still needed to look up at the actual buildings, but every once in a while she'd need a refresher on something- an exotic pet shop a couple blocks to the right, a gas station with a wonky paint job. When she finished the final touches, she ripped the page from the rest of the pack, struck a match and set the page on fire, watched it burn to ash as it slowly fell to the ground. That was the last one. She'd have to remember as much as she could until she was back home and could redraw it again for reference once she reignited the war against the Capitol.

She cleared her throat.

And then she she went downstairs, squirted some anti-bacterial meds onto the finger blisters, wrapped them in bandages, changed into a Vanburen Exclusive dusty pink nightgown, and drifted off to sleep.

When she woke the next morning, her chest already ached with nerves. She realized she must have been dreaming about the Games again. She couldn't recall what had been happening exactly, only Aunty Eury's disembodied voice and Bellamy with his arms crossed over his chest and Perry with an impressed smirk. She took a moment to quiet herself and level her breathing before she rose, but once the pieces were assembled she was business as usual: up and doing her skincare routine, her stretches, brushing her teeth and hair. She wouldn't get to style herself, and also it must have been over and hour 'til sunrise, a perfectly ungodly hour, and she wasn't interested in putting anything onto her face now that her stylist would wipe off with some abrasive rag before she went into the Games.

She ate breakfast quietly, nodded politely to Ridley when she finished her oats and fruit. Kindly moved past Xaahira without speaking, and around Justice without making eye contact.

"Ready?" Romeo asked, standing next to the elevator, leaned against the facing with his shoulder. He wore a feathery coat that was neon green on one side and hot pink on the other, and the bags under his eyes suggested that he wasn't any more happy about being up this early than she was. She answered by walking past him and stepping into the waiting chamber, where two guards stood in each of the back corners.

They escorted Larissa and Romeo all the way to the hovercraft, where Perry waited for her with an open seat. Perry had scored just one point lower than her in the private training sessions, a fact that had not escaped her. An 8 wasn't normally a particularly impressive score, but in a games where a 9 was the highest score anyone received, it was nothing to sneeze at. She'd already decided it was a better idea to ally with her than to try and fight against her before the scores had come out, but they'd only reaffirmed her plans when she saw them. She was capable, and she was desperate to hurt things, and that kind of weapon was extremely dangerous to Larissa if she could count herself among the potential people it could be aimed at. That's why she'd positioned herself in such a way to be the person pointing Perry in any other direction.

"Thanks," she said, allowing Perry to move her coat before sitting. Larissa had a window seat, which she was grateful for- she wasn't good with transportation. It always made her nauseous. But having a horizon to focus on would help. She quietly wondered for a moment if Perry had somehow figured that out. Some of the intel the mentors had gathered for her about the other tributes was way too good to have been obtained with clean hands. District Two wasn't as much in the Capitol's good graces as One but it was still a career district. They knew what it took to win, they were just worse at doing it. Then she decided that probably Perry just didn't want to share leg space with whoever ended up taking the seat in front of Larissa. It was also a window seat, but faced in the opposite direction, toward Larissa.

They were among some of the first who'd boarded, so they sat and quietly watched the seats fill. At one point Bellamy, the boy from Five boarded, and seemed to take his time choosing a seat. She also counted three separate times when she looked over and found him to already be looking at her. His big brown eyes were filled with a question he'd been indirectly asking all week, and she sighed. He'd been scored a 6, which was... well, not as great. But still. He was big and he'd mentioned being an athlete so he at least wouldn't slow them down.

"Fine." She said simply, more mouthing the word than voicing it to him. But it was all he needed to come bounding over and take the empty seat across from her.

Most of the ride was complete silence, with Larissa trying desperately not to vomit. The trees in the distance were definitely a good distraction, but after they started getting close to their final destination, the windows blacked out and she was forced to focus on the sensory nightmare that was air travel. The loud engines rumbled proudly below foot, air vents struggled in vain to keep twenty-four terrified teenagers from sweating, everyone breathed in their own rhythms at their own pace, and everything was constantly shaking ever so slightly. She found herself going green so she locked eyes with Bellamy.

"We let you sit with us. You entertain us with a story. Go."

It was all she could do to stare at him in hopes that he'd give her something to focus on that didn't make her lose her breakfast.

Luckily enough, he was either intimidated enough or feeling kind, and told a story about the time he and some of his classmates pranked his science teacher. Frogs were involved. It was funny, and well-paced, and suspiciously rewarding in the end. By the last of it, Larissa's curiosity outweighed her nausea and her golden eyes were narrowed in Bellamy's direction listening to every word. Something about the way he presented the story so earnestly made her inclined to believe it was made up. Or at the very least, that parts were embellished. Regardless, it took up enough of their remaining time that by the time she started worrying she might be sick again, they were landing.

"Get weapons if you see anything good and then leave. Got it?" She spoke the words quietly under her breath as the cargo door opened and the peacekeepers began to board and escort them to their next destinations. There would be other valuable things in the arena, and her family would sponsor her anything they needed and couldn't get. If they didn't, they'd have to answer to her when she won anyway.

The three of them were a good matchup, but there were only three of them. And though Larissa and Perry were trained to be good at this, another good group with a couple more bodies or a little more meat on their bones would've been more than they could handle alone. They had to pick and choose their battles wisely- charging into all of them with the same expectations is why so many careers died. Valiantly, maybe, but dead all the same.

Her holding cell below the arena was cozy, and Sampson had her change into a white bardot top made of silk, with sleeves that were poofy closer to her shoulders but slender and form-fitting closer to her wrists, and high-waisted four-button breeches. "Is that it?" she complained, looking at the underwhelming result in her reflection. Didn't bode well for the arena, did it.

"Actually," Larissa heard. She turned her head to the side door, where avoxes wheeled in an entire rack of clothing. All of it was glimmering and beautiful, each intricately made, each unique and custom. Some pieces were white shirts with layers like lily petals, a tuxedo jacket sculpted from vinery, a skirt with swirls of red and orange and yellow leaves. There, on the end, was a green dress with off-shoulder ruffles and a long, billowing tulle cape with lilypad appliques at the hem, and a corset with golden leaf-like structures.

"That one."

She stepped into it and smiled. They were letting her keep the other clothes on beneath it, so it was only for show, right? She had functional get-down-and-dirty clothes, and then a nice clean dress for the rest of the time. Smart thinking.

She stepped onto the plate and steadied her breathing. She could do this. She could do this. She could do this. The plate began to move.

She could do this. She could do this.

She could see a light up ahead.

She could do this.

The light grew brighter-

She could do this.

Brighter-

She could do this.

Brighter-

The plate clicked into place.

"I can do this."

^{[larissa enters the bloodbath]}

{    t o r i a n   v i c e    }

It was the Big Day. Torian made his mark on the Capitol and now it was time to be thrown the wolves. He only hoped that his reputation was enough for the wealthy sponsors to send him supplies. His entourage had been over the moon about his training score, fawning over him for hours about having the highest score along with Larissa Le Roux. Torian was pleased that his deadly science fair project had impressed the Gamemakers, but he couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut that it earned him a target on his back. After all, what career wanted to share the glory with the likes of him?

He sipped his morning tea, a concoction of herbs and spices meant to fight nausea and relax his muscles. He struggled to focus on the "bloodbath strategy" lecture he received at breakfast. He had already read every strategy book and analyzed the bloodbaths of recent years. He already understood the pros and cons of every approach. He knew what was best for him. He was not an aggressive kid, and turning himself into one would be a process - not a process he wanted to hasten in the first five minutes. Mental damage was a silent killer, and a lot of people didn't realize that until it was too late.

The travel between Training Center to the arena was a blur. He couldn't even revel in the air travel because of how anxious he was. He wasn't supposed to be here. After two weeks, he still hadn't processed how unfair this was. He didn't get to say goodbye to his friends, he didn't get to communicate with his parents from the Capitol. All ties from home were severed, and yet that was all the Capitol talked about when he was in the room - his home, his life. Everyone knew he wasn't as strong as a typical Seven, but there was a slim chance that his training score would deter others from underestimating him.

His only solace was being fitted into an expensive green suit (his favorite color). Once he reached the arena itself, he had plans to meet up with the guys from the Training Center. Ulysses, Jayson, and Caspian - he thought they were all admirable and cool in their own ways, and he was like the little brother. That was the picture he painted. A fantasy to keep his anxiety at bay. He wasn't supposed to trust easily, but he did anyway.

Torian counted green and purple roots wrapped around his bomb-infused pedestal. He looked up and spotted Caspian, and it was clear by his body language what he intended to accomplish.

"Stop, Caspian!"

He didn't want to make a scene, but a tribute blowing up would be ten times worse.

The hesitation was enough, but he paid so much attention to Caspian that he failed to keep track of the countdown. Before he knew it, the Games had started. The chess pieces were moving, and he prayed that the checkmate didn't come too early.


[enters bloodbath]