Seraphine Fardeux :: District One : Wip

From the hollowed heart of a fallen frame they had taken her. That morning, the sun entranced by a veil of mist, set a scene of silence within the church. Those that came listened to the girl in the dress of snow colored fields while her words spoke of the boundlessness of the soul. By the great gift of mercy, she proclaimed how Ripred always works within the world even if it is overrun by the remnants of tragedy. She wonders whether they saw mercy that morning when the hands of heaven moved.

Helena spent her time alone afterwards, once they had boarded the train. Her eyes searched across the smoldering earth as it sped by for reminders as to why fear was not in her heart. She found it in the craters that crumbled inwardly as the train thundered by them. She found it in the broken buildings slowly starting to reach towards the skies again within the centers of the Districts. She found it in herself, a selected lamb for sacrificial slaughter.

Bombs. Bullets. Bodies. She watched the war without a word, bore witness to the true sin of humanity. It did not surprise her when from the freshly fallen the Capitol laid claim to new evil. Games of blood and battle not unlike the ones which had just torn through the world with its teeth glaring. It's so typical of humanity, violence begets violence. The eternal cyclical cycle of humanity's sin.

Helena had watched the Hunger Games debut last year, everyone had by demand of the Capitol. Stood silent again as child carved into child until nothing other than the fragment of a girl named Adder Ames remained. The scene was sewn with brutal barbarism, the relinquishment of youthful innocence to the surge of survival. This year will be no different, only this time it's not new. The other twenty three know the same as her, know what is waiting above them at this very moment.

Metal cries as clanks crack and bodies of white arrive at the door to Helena's holding room of grey nothingness. To further the appeal a suit is throw at her feet, grey like everything else. A pair of boots is thrown free from the peacekeepers as well. The message is clear: change. The metal door screams once more on its hinges before slamming shut and its gears grind it back into its locked status. Helena's hands run over the rough threads, a laughter lifts from her lips. Undoubtedly made in District Eight, ugly but from the same shattered streets as her. She wraps herself in the memory of home.

A roll of bread and a bottle of water are delivered next, the final form of decency she'll receive. She thanks Ripred even for getting them at all before tearing into the warm crust of the bread. As her teeth crunch across the sweet surface of the baked bread, she lets her eyes close. She doesn't try to project herself anywhere else, somewhere away from reality. Instead, she asks for strength. By the eyes of humankind she is some small barely fed mouse from District Eight. But in eyes of Ripred, she knows she is a falcon with talons capable of clearing entire rivers.

The wild calls.

Hands throw Helena forward through the maze and she doesn't resist them. All the energy she has now she's going to put towards what will happen when she stands in a field of twenty four children all in the same outfit. These aren't going to be like the ones she freed before, they aren't injured yet. At least, not like how those in the war were. She has to hurt them before she can sever their souls' connections to their prisons of flesh. But by the might of Ripred, she will break them of their bonds to monstrosity.

The cage is surprising, along with the fear it sends streaking down Helena's spine like a single drop of cold water cascading down her back. Her fingers wrap around the iron bars just as they shift and send her slamming into the side of the cell. The room she's in falls away into there is nothing but her own fear. She prays and light welcomes her to humanity's hell.

The structure is far more archaic than the first stadium's, it's something Helena briefly recalls being mentioned as a Coliseum. Several other things have changed this year as well. Mainly, the peacekeepers don't stand in riot gear at the ready, but in seats as the true spectators they are. However, they aren't alone. Several officials share the stands along with Panem's first Victor Adder Ames in the flesh. Alas, now isn't the time for them.

The arches open and swords stuck in the sand find the first hands of tributes, and Helena follows their lead. Her eyes stare at her reflection in the blade, squint at the glare of the sun's own eye. Her hands hesitate, will she become complacent again? Her blade slightly shakes in her palms, no.