Mask of Mourning [Lorenzo Moon Oneshot]

Clean up your act, Lorenzo. They're starting to catch on, they tell me, saying that the people of Eight will start to notice. I'd been putting on the act of the mourning father of Zagreus Moon for so long now that I suppose, I'll admit, there may be some flaws in my performance.

I never cared for Zagreus- he was a tool for me to get the money I wanted, but the public wasn't allowed to know this. The plan was, he volunteers for the Hunger Games if he isn't reaped before then, wins, and comes back with the boundless fortune that victors receive. Then, I get rich off of his winnings, making the public think that he was just a kind enough soul to share them with me.

The problem with this plan was, however, that he didn't win the Games. He was chosen for the Seventy-Seventh Hunger Games, went in, fought and died. What's worse is, the idiot died to a mutt rather than another tribute. That was a fight he should have easily won.

When his lifeless body was brought back to District Eight, I masked my anger with sorrow. As far as the District was to know, I was distraught. My wife and I both knew that that wasn't the truth, but that didn't matter. The only one who initially saw through my mask was my niece, Destriianatos. When Zagreus died, she screamed at Charlotte and punched me in the face, breaking my nose. Tempers flared at my son's funeral, too.

Destrii had done her best to stay calm at the funeral, but I knew that she could still see right through my mask. She may not have been screaming and yelling, but she wasn't falling for my faux mourning.

Now, nearly ten years later, Destrii and I are still barely on speaking terms. She loathes me, and I'll admit that I'm not particularly concerned about getting her to like me again. As long as I'm not completely hated by my other nieces and nephews- the reapable ones- then perhaps I can gain their favor.

As the reaping inches closer and closer, I wait for my chance for wealth again.