Architeuthis dux [OPEN]

A small, tanned figure sat under the dock, slipping in and out of the water at will. Shoved in a neighbours boat was her backpack full of hemp. Obviously. She was never without her hemp. Just in case she was able to make some to help out her dad. Just that the water was too cold, too crisp, too glistening to resist. She'd tried to get some sleep at home, but it hadn't worked. She'd tried sleeping on her neighbour's boat, letting the rocking motion sent her to sleep. Her father didn't like it, but she did it often enough that he'd stopped worrying.

But even the boat's uneven, comforting wooden floor couldn't send the teenager to sleep that night. So she'd slipped into the water, dressed and all. It didn't sent her to sleep; it energised her. She merely sat on the dock at first, but it was too still, too safe. She made her way, carefully, silently, half a kilometre out to sea, only rising into the sight of the world to breath.

Under the waves, the world was black, secretive almost sordid. Anything could be lying beneath her.

Above the barely existent meniscus that few believed existed, the world shone. A silver moon beat down on crystalline waves, which in turn threw out tiny diamonds.

Polar opposites. The darkness and the gem. The Capitol and the Districts.

The lithe body began to disappear for longer periods of time, vanishing ten feet under, fifty, a hundred. Every time it went under, the darkness was a little clearer, a little more real. Beautiful in some ways, terrible in others. The world above didn't change. It stayed clear, pristine. Perfect but so ignorant of what happened beneath the waterline.

The water temperature was dropping, slowly, but still dropping. The small figure began to shiver, but she allowed the tide to carry her out to a coastal shelf. There, she stood for a moment, staring towards home. The whitish strip of beach, and beyond that, the trees and District Four. Home. Prison.

What was the difference really?

Eventually, it was too much. The cold, the view, the ridiculous theorising she constantly did but never did anything about. Confusion and hard realisation swept through the large brown eyes in a heartbeat. She dived back into the water with a splash and began to swim back. She was a good kilometre away from land, and fatigue was starting to set in. As she approached the sand, she took in another girl on the beach. Her movements were quick, vicious. A knife glinted in her hand.

Obviously. As much as Lilia hated the Hunger Games, other people loved them. So that rather than doing something useful, they spent their time training to kill. Never gotten why. Probably never will.

But even as she approached the dock, still moving silently, she noticed the girl's movements becoming messier, less objective. Eventually, she stopped altogether. As Lilia pulled herself up onto the boat to retrieve her things, the other girl collapsed onto the sand, defeated by an enemy that didn't exist.

Lilia's tunic and leggings were soaked thoroughly, her almost black hair falling in wavy strands around her face. It did look black in the lack of light. She wrapped herself in her blanket, slung her bag on her back and walked quietly along the dock, and actually managed to reach the edge of the beach only making the slightest bit of noise. It wasn't until she reached the broken line of trees that she drew attention to herself. It hadn't been much. She'd jumped up playfully and swung for a bit. Just on a whim. She hung for a few moments before the first creak was emitted. Hurriedly, she dropped down and pressed herself up against the tree trunk. Just in time. The end of the branch snapped off and hit the ground with a resounding THUNK.

She can't have missed that. But when the girl barely reacted, Lilia began to think something was wrong. She hovered for a moment before heading back across the beach. She walked with the same light footing; she hated socialising, and didn't want this to take any longer than it needed to. She stood a few feet behind the hunched figure, and got out:

"Are you alright?"

Lilia jumped back, startled. Careers weren't squeamish. But terror was flooding from the blue eyes that met Lilia's own brown ones. She was breathing heavily, grabbing her knife hurriedly. Lilia began to look around for anyone else on the beach; she was smart, but it looked like the girl at her feet was having a fit, and the teenager was by no means a medical expert. She was gripping the clothes over her heart, and Lilia took a step forward.

What the... what the hell? What do I... Lilia's thoughts tumbled in and out of sense. Run? Sit? Sing? Sing? Really? Her mouth was going through a series of spasms, rocking her head back and forward slightly. Slowly, however, she felt the sand being kicked up around her feet, and began to calm down. The girl on the ground was edging backwards, trying to get away. Lilia was still breathing heavily, but calm enough to take in the features of the girl without having a panic attack.

She looked young, but there was something about her that made Lilia think she was older. Her movements maybe, she wasn't sure. Blue eyes, brown hair, pale skin; she was certainly pretty. Lilia on the other hand, who was now running her fingernails through her eyebrows as she always did when she felt awkward, could feel grains of salt forming over her acne. Dammit. The girl was looking straight into her eyes and making Lilia seriously uncomfortable.

But still. Whatever she may have said, she was upset (for reasons Lilia really couldn't fathom) and Lilia knew what that was like. So she knelt down next to her, slowly, and smiled awkwardly. "Are you sure? You look kinda freaked out." She took a deep breath, and sat down on the sand. The only thing that would be more awkward than staying would be leaving. "I haven't seen you around here before," she tried.

Lilia instinctively rounded her shoulders protectively at the girl's fierce expression. Ok, definitely a career. She edged backward slightly before the girl opposite her stopped looking quite so furious and more inquisitive. She stayed under her scrutiny for a few moments, staring at the ground.

"I'm fine." Lilia flinched, a little bit irritated and quite scared at the tone of her voice.

"I was only..." Lilia said in a small voice, but she trailed off before she could finish her sentence. Authoritative figures got her down, but self-authoritative figures were worse. They had a certain air about them that was bordering on terrifying for shyer people like Lilia. She tensed her legs, ready to run.

But the blonde closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to calm down. When she opened her eyes, she said, "I come down here often. Nearly every other day and most nights."

Lilia raised her eyebrows, but did relax at the changed tone. She knew most people who visited the beach frequently, but then again there were a lot of beach-goers. It was easy for people to be lost even in a sparse crowd, especially since Lilia's gaze was so often pointed towards the fish beneath her.

"Er... nice..." she trailed off a bit, before trying: "I come almost every day." But there was something about the girl that stopped Lilia speaking. She looked vaguely familiar; as in very vague, as in she knew they'd never met but she knew someone who looked like her whose name she didn't know and also hadn't met but had seen on posters or TV reruns...

"You look like... do you...?" Lilia wasn't too sure how to put it. Think, think! That girl who was in highlight clips of past Games... who was she?

Lilia couldn't for the life of her remember who she was thinking about. It was from years ago, before she was born, but it had been aired later for some reason. Clips from old Hunger Games. Bloodbaths and Victories, something like that.

The girl opposite her didn't reply, only looked. The pair sat on the sand in an awkward silence for a while; Lilia wasn't sure how long. Her hand, free of her mind's control, began to draw patterns in the sand. Her eyes grew wider still, with a blank note to them while still seeming focused. Her back was straight, her hair shifting only slightly in the cool sea breeze- it was still heavily soaked from swimming, and the same black as the sky above her.

Her subconscious began to take in facts about the girl opposite her, and the facts wound their way into her thoughts. She was strong, but that much was obvious. There was something about her that was scared, shy, almost vulnerable; she was not unlike Lilia herself. What would cause that in a Career? Scars? No, scars were a sign of strength, of power. Rejection? She didn't look like a typical Career, she was too baby faced even if she was still pretty. Maybe someone had pointed that out earlier in the day? No, a casual insult didn't cause that kind of fear, even if it was repeated.

"Do I look like who?"

The name clicked. Vellamo. But Lilia was flustered again- the sound of the words had knocked her back to reality. Her shoulders rounded, her gaze dropped, her mouth opened slightly. But she had the name. It made perfect sense. It wasn't the Career that became afraid. It was the fear that had created a Career.

"Vellamo Toppari."