Sorry (I'm not) [elodie, ivy, benat]

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we keep on paying those freaks on the tv
who claim they will save us but want to enslave us
and sweating like demons they scream through our speakers
but we leave the sound on 'cause silence is harder
and no one's the killer and no one's the matyr[/center]


Some little girls want to be ballerinas when they grow up. Others dream of moving to the Capitol or touring the districts on beautiful trains. When I was small, I wanted to see the sun. That was all. (Every hope or dream I ever had involved being freed from my prison.) When I got what I wanted - when the key caught in my hand and the lock turned and I ran until somebody found me, a crying child on the road - it stopped being enough. Suddenly, I wanted to be free of my past, free of the District, too.[/color] I wanted to bring more to the family that braided my hair and told me stories when I cried. (I yearned to fix my mother, but I never did want to fix myself.)[/color] When my name was called loud and clear, on reaping day, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up once and for all. I wanted to be free, yes.[/color] I also yearned for riches, power, the feel of a Victor's crown perched on my dark curls. Glorious, fabulous, and everything I always needed. (In short, I wanted to be a murderer.)[/color]

Dreams are never enough. It is the human condition, the human sickness[/color] to desire more once their fantasies are met. When the girl becomes a ballerina, she wants to be the best ballerina, fill her bedroom wall with trophies and dance in Swan Lake[/color]. When you are Ivy Soren, and you become a murderer, you want to taste blood on your lips over and over again. This is the freedom the four-year-old me wanted all along. She simply didn't know it. (I am void of all guilt as I grin happily at Benat.)[/color] They are all going to die in the end, so better I make it clear as early as I can who they will be losing to[/color]. My backpack shifts on my back, and I remember Casper waiting inside. I reach up and pull him over my shoulder to cradle him in my arms, and plant a kiss on his forehead. (At least, it was probably his forehead. Body parts are pretty non-specific with Casper.)[/color] He bounces delightedly in my arms, almost purring. Everything is going to plan, Capser,[/color] I think, rocking him backward and forward. I've shown I've got exactly what it takes. And it doesn't end until we say it does.

I turn to Elodie, pride glimmering in my eyes. Sampson, Meela, Ezra, and now Benat.[/color] She is the last of my allies to breathe, and I need her to know it. (At any second I could turn and end her as I did Benat, but I need her, and I don't.) She should thank me, but instead she sticks out her chin and demands food. "I'm hungry," she whines, as though I hold the answers to each of her petty little problems. These might not have been the first words she speaks since my glorious murder, but they are the first I bother to hear.[/color] "That's easily fixed, honey," I say with what I hope is a kind smile, before bringing my knife down upon her left hand. It tumbles to the ground, bouncing a couple of times before coming to a rest[/color]. "And if you don't do what I say, it'll be your head," I hiss, meeting her eyes. "Eat it."

Perhaps I am going crazy, but I swear I feel a new height of brilliance coursing through my veins. I am no longer simply Ivy Soren, girl with a dream[/color], but Ivy Soren, murderer on her way to glory. I will stand amongst Julian and Mace, Arbour and Ara, and hold my ground with perfect dignity. (Elodie needs to be quite sure who pulls the strings around here, so I decided to show her.) My lips curl upward, and I laugh, jokes about handiness[/color] flickering around my whirring mind. I decide to save them for the following day. Perhaps the ecstasy that comes with proving your worth to a nation will have worn dry by the time the sun rises, but I doubt it.

I wonder, for a moment, what Indigo will think. I can picture her with her eyes creased in shock and disgust - thinking that a barrier of separation has fallen between us, sorting us into innocents and killers[/color]. At the same time, I can imagine her gasping in delight, the idea that I might come home finally registering in her doubtful mind, her fear of my death subsiding. (Perhaps my inability to be sure about my own twin's reaction is a sign that I have been distant from her for too long.)[/color] Even if she is displeased by the murder of my former[/color] ally, she will surely be glad when she is allowed to live in the Victor's village, surrounded by everything she could ever want for. (Alone, I can fix my father's wrongs, but not without committing a few sins myself.)[/color] Indigo does not deserve to lose her sister as well as her childhood, her father, her own insular dreams. Like the little girl who wants to be a ballerina or the boy who wants to move to the Capitol when he grows up,[/color] I'm determined. Unlike them, there is already enough blood dripping from my flail to ensure my path to Victory.

{ivy does first aid on herself, bringing her to 0 damage
she then uses elodie's fire to boil one of her water jugs, drinks this purified water, refills the jug, eats her plants and takes the items specified in tribmaint from benat before fleeing the fight}



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(notes)[/color]
"words!"[/center]




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