Invincible Gaultier, 18

District 1, They/Them

June 18th, 97 ADD

9:43 AM

Life was- unsurprisingly- much more peaceful without Bastet around.

No constant arguing. No walking on eggshells all the time. No concern that their insane ally might start breaking their fingers at the drop of a hat.

Now, it was just Vince and their only sane ally. Who was also injured, but… Vince found themself preferring sanity these days. They'd have to take what they could get.

(They'd never admit it, but it was a relief that Bastet had left by herself. Maybe now, they'd get themself killed by some arena event or outer-district tribute. Maybe she'd die and she'd be out of Vince's hair for good. It sounded incredible, and a tribute could dream, couldn't they?)

"How're you feeling?" Vince asked, gesturing at Tisiphone's leg.

Tisiphone, who was in the middle of rebraiding her hair for the day, glanced down at the bandages. "Oh. Better, I think," she said.

"Good."

"How's your back?"

"Fine," Vince answered.

A moment of silence stretched out between them as the conversation died.

(Worst case scenario, they could use her as a human shield, right? She was over half a foot taller than them. It wouldn't be hard to duck behind her.)

(For some reason, though, Vince couldn't help but find that… unappealing.

Odd.)

Tisiphone caught their eye. "This is kind of weird," she admitted.

"That it's us two?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Vince agreed. "Not, like… bad, though."

"Not bad," Tisiphone echoed. She tied off the first braid and started combing her hair with her fingers for the second. "I've been thinking about how there's only eight of us. They'd be doing interviews now."

Vince exhaled. "They would."

She half-smiled. "You're not looking forward to it either?"

"No."

"Your dad?"

"Yeah."

She nodded. "My sisters."

Vince, who had no siblings, was interested. "What about them?" they asked.

Tisiphone leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. "They're fifteen-"

"Both of them?"

"Yeah. Twins," she replied. "They can be… um, difficult to handle."

Vince tried to remember what they'd heard of sibling dynamics. "Do they steal your clothes?"

"Not really. They think my clothes are ugly."

"Okay, rude."

"I know." Her half-smile returned. "My brother's much nicer, but he's also four years old, so who knows. Maybe he'll get there."

"Three siblings," Vince marveled. "That sounds terrible. How the hell does your mom put up with it?"

Tisiphone shifted. "She's… gone a lot," she said, and Vince could tell she was choosing her words carefully. "So I usually take care of things."

Vince stared at her, uncomprehending. "That's nuts."

"It's not so bad-"

"My dad is- a lot, but he's never made me take care of whole entire people," they said.

"She doesn't make me."

"She leaves you alone with them, so isn't that the same thing?"

Tisiphone blew out a breath. "My mom did what she had to."

Vince cocked their head. "Why do you keep talking about her in past tense?"

Tisiphone froze, her eyes going wide. "I- I didn't mean to," she said. "It, it just- it feels like a different life. Everything that happened before the Reapings feels… far away, like it happened a long time ago. That's probably why."

"Oh," Vince said, not entirely convinced. "Okay. Sorry if I crossed the line."

"It's okay," Tisiphone replied, looking a bit too relieved. "It's fine. But my mom is a good mom. She let me train, even."

Vince nodded. "My dad had me train."

"Was it fun?"

Vince frowned. "Fun?"

Tisiphone suddenly looked unsure. "You know… with friends…? We had an after-school program and a summer one. Lots of kids would just do it for fun."

Vince had never heard a more alien concept in their entire life. "Training is a duty and a privilege, and being selected as a tribute is the greatest honor of my life."

"Oh. Okay. That too," Tisiphone said. "Maybe it's just different in One than in Four."

"Sounds like it," Vince said.

"So your dad made you do it?"

"At first, yeah, I guess," they said. "But I got there eventually. I want to be a Victor."

Tisiphone tilted her head. "Did your mom want you to train, too?"

(Their parents argued loud enough that Vince could hear their voices through the floorboards. Their father's, booming and unrelenting. Their mother's, desperate and pleading. It was almost like music.

Maybe it could be music.

Vince reached for their violin, zipping the case open and settling the chinrest exactly where they liked it. They tuned it quickly, then closed their eyes, listening to the voices below. Thin legato notes for their mother. Deep, curt notes for their father.

They played along to the argument, a symphony in their head, for hours that night.)

"No," Vince muttered. "She didn't want me to train."

Tisiphone's eyebrows rose. "Oh."

"Not that she cared that much," they said. "Haven't seen her in years. Look, it all turned out fine. I win the Games, and my father gets off my back, and I can do my own thing. Who cares what he says in an interview."

Tisiphone, thankfully, let the conversation leave Vince's mother. "What sorts of things?" she asked. "Parties? I remember you saying you liked parties, though…"

"My last one wasn't my best," Vince said hurriedly. "Trust me. I can do better."

"I'm sure you can," Tisiphone said. Though Vince wasn't sure if this was a genuine encouragement, or if the party had just been that shitty.

(A brief memory of Rumi on their bedroom carpet assured them that yes, the party had been that shitty.)

"What else?" Tisiphone asked.

"Like what?"

"You said you wanted to do your own thing," Tisiphone reminded them.

"Oh. Yeah, parties, I guess. Living without my dad. That kind of stuff," Vince said.

"Right."

"You?"

"I like to crochet," Tisiphone offered.

Vince gave her a look. "If you won the Games, you'd crochet? You don't have to win the Games to do that, Tiss."

"I know!" she said. "But it would be nice to have time to. Also, a dog."

"Again," Vince said, "you don't need to win the Games to get a dog."

"I'd like to see my family again," she said. "My siblings, and… I'd like to see my mom…"

Vince shook their head. "You're still naming things you can do without the Games."

"I- I just-" Tisiphone said. "I want a nice life, where I don't have to worry all the time."

"Okay," Vince said.

"And for the record," she said, "you can have parties without winning the Games, too."

"Fine," Vince relented.

(They understood, though. It wasn't about the parties or the crochet. Winning the Games, it was… safety. Security. Independence.

All Vince, in their unsteady household, had ever wanted.)

They sighed. "Y'know," they said, "if we want to actually do the winning part, we should probably get moving."

"Yeah." Tisiphone shifted, gingerly moving her bandaged leg so she could stand. "Might be nice to leave the Cornucopia, too. We could hide out in one of these buildings instead."

"After all that?" Vince asked, dumbfounded. "After the shit we went through getting it back-"

"-and you really want Bastet knowing where we are?" Tisiphone pointed out.

Vince considered this. "I'll start packing."

"I thought so," Tisiphone smiled.

(As they packed, Vince couldn't help but think to themself about how much easier this was. Just one other person- a quiet, relaxed, sincere person. No crazy dramatics or will-they-won't-they, which Vince had always thrived on, but… this was kind of nice. There was more danger in the arena than ever, obviously, but it had been a long time since Vince had something real.

Maybe all their other alliances had just been that terrible.

Somehow, Vince doubted it.)

Valentina Gammon, 16

District 7, She/Her

1:20 PM

It was remarkable how much more tolerable the arena was without Aescelin.

She didn't have to listen to him ramble about spirits or trees anymore. She didn't have to put up with his grimy fingernails and crazy eyes. Best of all, she didn't have to pretend to be one of his nutty followers anymore. Her mind and her space were fully hers again.

(There was, of course, a ghost of him following her around. But the ghost was easily ignored; unlike the real Aescelin, the ghost didn't talk nonsense all day long.

Valentina appreciated the quiet. Frankly, it was an improvement.)

It would have been perfect, if not for the scent of smoke. It clung to her clothes, her hair, her pores. Every time she got a whiff of it, she was taken back to that night. She'd taste the burning body in the back of her throat, and her stomach would flip, and she'd have to fight to make sure whatever was in her stomach stayed there.

She'd loved killing him. She'd loved her revenge all the way down to the despair in his eyes. Valentina had gone out of her way to thank Acadia- not the stupid Spirit, for once- for the note she'd sent Valentina.

It was incredible. But now all she was left with was her own ruination, her appetite turned to emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

(Barbeque was all she had. It was the one thing she could rely on, the one thing she had full control over. What happened in the kitchen was fully up to her every step of the way. He had ripped that control away from her, replacing the itch to cook again with the urge to vomit every time she thought about it.

She'd wanted killing him to give her control back. In some ways, it had.

In the most important way, it hadn't.)

It wasn't as though Valentina didn't try to solve it, either. She dunked herself in river water four times in her attempt to get the stench off of her. But while it grew fainter, it didn't leave.

(Maybe it was permanent. Maybe Fleur's burning flesh and hair and screams went deeper than Valentina's body. What if it was part of her now, this horror? What if she could never go back?)

But Valentina would be damned if she stopped trying now. She wasn't stupid- Aescelin wasn't her last obstacle. There were seven others out there who wanted her dead, Spirit-worshippers or not. She hadn't pretended to believe in Aescelin's spiritual bullshit for nothing. She hadn't made herself look weak and stupid to die now and let people think that was the truth.

(She hadn't lost her one joy just to fail now.)

After a fifth attempt at washing the smoke from her skin, Valentina took a deep breath. She needed to outrun, to outlast. To hide.

So she hefted Two's baseball bat over her shoulder and, once again, descended into the mine tunnels.

Mendi Navar, 14

District 12, She/Her

2:39 PM

She was floating.

The current was pulling her, tugging at her ears and her toes, and Mendi let it. It was all she could do now. Her body alternated between sweating and shivering, making her shoulders shake uncontrollably. Her head was too heavy to lift from the water. Her heart pattered too quickly in her chest, and her breath came too short.

In her right hand, she held the rock. Its jagged edges pressed into her palm. The water tugged at it, trying to take it from her. She used the strength she had left to clutch it. Sometimes she shivered so hard that she thought her fingers would spasm and release it against her will, but that didn't happen. The rock stayed with her.

Her thoughts came and went.

(She wanted Father. She wanted Mother. She wanted to be back in their bed, warm beneath the blanket Mother made herself.

She thought of the garden, of Father's steady hands working the soil. Her own fingers, smaller and quicker, yanking away the weeds. Sun on the backs of their necks.

Mother's smile. Creases in the corners of Father's eyes.)

The river washed her thoughts away as they came.

(Bryony's laugh, her warm dark eyes. Bryony's arms around her, holding her tight even as the sobs came. Bryony's gentle hand on her back, coaxing her to drink water.)

(Bryony's warm dark eyes still dark but no longer warm. The blood falling from her neck warm against Mendi's skin. Tiernan's soft throat on Mendi's fingertips, his mouth blessedly silent. His blond corn-silk hair strewn across his face.)

(Patrek's quiet words and calloused palms. The pale light of the moon brightening the whites of his eyes at night.)

(The bush scraping at her arms, the blade cutting her shoulder open, until Patrek put an end to it.)

(The ghost behind her. The ghost now behind him.)

(The sting of his medicine against her skin. Her teeth against his knuckles. The gentle skin of the underside of his chin.)

The river washed her clean again, and again, and again.

(Patrek. Tiernan. Bryony. Mother. Father. Mother. Bryony. Father. Patrek. Tiernan. Mother. Father.)

(She wanted to be held by clean hands. She wanted their hands to be clean.)

The rock shone in the water, shyly, in glimpses and peeks between her fingers.

(Her hands weren't clean. Not anymore.)

(What about Mother's?

…Father's?)

(Would she ever know for sure?)

(Flowers in Mother's hair. Father's hands around Mother's shoulders. Mother's lips on Mendi's forehead. Father pulling the curtains shut at night. Mother in the kitchen, humming so quietly Mendi keeps thinking she's imagining it. Father's voice chasing prying eyes away from their home.)

Her body felt so heavy, even as it trembled. She couldn't stop the shaking. Her heart kept pattering, but not as loudly anymore. It didn't thunder in her ears now.

Just the water, rushing and rushing.

Washing it all away.

(Her thoughts dulled. They became too faint to hear over the water.)

The rock shone. She closed her eyes, remnants of its light still bright against the backs of her eyelids. She watched it fade. Her head became light.

Finally, the water faded, too. Rushed and rushed and got where it was going.

And Mendi was, at last, alone.

Tomo Metellus, 18

District 6, He/Him

4:13 PM

He saw her first, through his binoculars. She was heading right toward them.

"Hey, Jem," he said.

Jem wasn't paying attention. He waved Tomo off, squinting down at a hangnail he'd been trying to remove all day. "I don't wanna talk about the Careers anymore, Tomo-"

"Um," he said. "That might be difficult."

Jem groaned. "Tomo-"

"I think there's one right there," Tomo interrupted. He pointed in their direction.

Jem startled, looking up from his nail. "Shit, Tomo, you gotta lead with that!"

Jem scrambled to his feet at the same time Tomo got to his. Tomo flinched as Jem, recognizing the Career, started cursing.

"She's seen us," Jem said.

"She has," Tomo agreed. He started backing away.

Instead, Jem reached for a spear.

"What are you doing?" Tomo asked, alarmed. "We have to leave!"

"She'll follow us," Jem argued. "She's already seen us-"

"If we stay, she'll kill us!"

"Not if we fight!" Jem insisted. "It's two against one!"

"I don't want you to die," Tomo pleaded.

"I don't either," Jem said. Something in his expression softened, if only for a breath. "Do what you think is best, Tomo. I won't blame you."

Tomo hesitated, staring at Jem. Jem turned away, spear raised.

(What should he do? What could he do?)

(He didn't want Jem to die. He didn't want to die, either.)

(It's the rules of the game, Tomo. Kill or die.)

The Career's voice broke through his thoughts as he stood there, frozen. "Nine!" they shouted. "Been looking for you!"

Jem's voice was calm when he responded. Tomo didn't know why it made a chill run up his spine. "Seems I'm pretty popular these days, huh?"

The Career was close enough now that Tomo could make out their face. Tomo remembered her- she was Mercury's district partner. They sneered at Jem, her knuckles tight around the blades in her hands, but Jem appeared not to notice. Two ghosts lingered behind her, and as he recognized Chevre's small frame, Tomo averted his eyes.

(The image that remained of her brutalized body was difficult to look at.)

"I," she said, "am going to make you regret ever Volunteering for these fucking Games."

"Where are the others?" Jem asked. "Sneaking up on us? Or did they leave you?"

Two bristled, and even Tomo could see that Jem had hit a nerve. "I don't need them," she replied. "I'll fucking prove it!"

She leaped forward, slashing at Jem with a handful of knives. Jem managed to dodge the strike, stepping back and out of the way, and swiped his spear at them. Tomo looked on, horrified, as the two of them went at it, their weapons clashing so loud it made his teeth rattle.

(What was he supposed to do?)

(Kill or die.)

Two slashed a tear through Jem's shirt, making Jem wince. Still, he spared a glance for Tomo.

"Tomo," he said, "you gotta run, or fight, or do something-"

Two stabbed Jem in the arm again, hard enough this time to make Jem cry out. Sweat dripped down the back of Tomo's neck. She lashed a nasty kick toward Jem's knee, and he stumbled to the ground, not able to catch himself in time.

Two's voice got very quiet. "I'll kill your friend," they told Jem. "You're gonna watch every second of it. You're gonna understand exactly what you did when you killed- when you killed her. And then, just when you think it can't hurt anymore?" They smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'll show you real pain, fucker."

"Tomo," Jem said tightly, "run-"

(It's the rules of the game, Tomo.)

Two kicked Jem again in the stomach, and he hunched over, gasping for air. Then she turned toward Tomo.

(He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to kill. He didn't want Jem to die.)

(What choice could he make to have all of those things?)

(It's the rules of the game, Tomo. Kill or-

No.)

For the first time, Tomo moved. He took a step back. He looked at Jem.

"No," Tomo murmured. "You run."

Jem's face contorted. "Wait-"

Tomo turned on his heel and fled, his boots pounding into the dusty arena. Behind him, he heard Two snarl and Jem screaming after him, but he kept going, blood pounding in his ears.

(Tomo refused to play the Games by their rules.

It was about time he stuck to his own.)

Jem Piper, 17

District 9, He/Him

4:25 PM

As soon as Two followed Tomo, Jem understood what was happening.

It was Jest all over again. It was Chevre all over again.

(No. No. Jem would not let another friend get themself killed for his survival.)

Jem shoved himself to his feet and ran after them, still gasping for the air Two had kicked out of him. Tomo already had a hearty lead on them, but he knew it wouldn't take Two long to catch up. He'd heard their tone of voice, seen the look in her eyes. He'd seen Chevre's soulless ghost following their every step. This was not the type of person who would let Tomo slip through her fingers.

Not unless someone stared down the odds and gave Two hell to pay.

Jem forced his legs to pump harder, one hand curled tight around his spear. It had alarmed him, before, how comfortable the wood was becoming against the calluses of his palm. Now, it felt just as familiar as a stack of papes. It should've alarmed him again.

But if that was what it took to save Tomo, fuck it.

Jem raised the spear, preparing to throw it at Two's back, but before he could, Two was suddenly airborne. She closed in on Tomo, leaping toward him and knocking him to the ground with her. Tomo's cry turned to a wheeze as his back collided with the earth; Two scrambled to her knees, grabbing at his wrist, and Tomo was quickly pinned down.

"No!" Jem screamed, sprinting as fast as he could on his injured leg. He was so close, he could still make it-

-but Tomo wasn't fighting.

Tomo didn't see Jem. He stared up at Two, horrifically serene. He didn't thrash or kick or bite. He didn't curl his hands into fists or reach for one of Two's knives. He laid there, trapped.

(If I had to kill someone, part of me would die too.)

(Was this what Jest had looked like, when he…)

Two shook his wrists in her hands, confused. The predatory hunch in their shoulders remained, though. "What are you doing?" they demanded.

Jem could barely make out Tomo's reply through the blood rushing in his ears. "I'm not playing."

Two stared back at Tomo, baffled. "The Games? You're not playing the fucking Games?"

Jem's heart slammed against his ribcage. He was almost close enough to throw, now- just a few more feet-

Tomo tilted his chin in perhaps the only act of defiance Jem had ever seen from him.

"Well, I am," Two snarled. She released one of his wrists, which remained limp on the ground.

Jem lifted his spear.

Two plucked a knife from her belt.

Jem threw the spear as hard as he could.

Two thrust her blade toward the soft spot at the base of Tomo's neck.

The spear missed Two's head by inches.

Tomo choked, his head falling against the dusty dirt with a thump.

Boom.

"NO!"

Jem closed the distance between them and hurled himself at Two, tackling her off Tomo. They rolled in a whirlwind of knuckles and nails and elbows, Jem taking some hits but landing some, too. He could feel tears coursing down his cheeks, mixing with his sweat. Hot rage pulsed in his hands, and he didn't hesitate to use them.

It was a blur.

Finally, strong fingers closed around his shoulders and shoved him against the ground, and Two was on top of him. Around them, the world spun.

Jem was still crying. "He wasn't gonna hurt you!" he screamed, spit foaming at the corners of his lips. He flailed, managing to jam a knee into Two's hips. She cried out, and Jem kicked them off of him.

But as he tried to get to his feet, he found a knifepoint pricking his throat.

Jem froze. He was on his knees. Two was in a crouch about a foot away, holding a blade at his neck. She was dusty and dirty and a few new scratches were bleeding on their face.

And for some reason, they were hesitating.

Jem stared at her. "Do it," he dared, his voice a hoarse whisper.

But Two's eyes weren't meeting his. They were on something just behind him.

Two's chin wobbled, and her eyes shone.

"Do it," Jem said again.

Her hand trembled.

"Like Tomo," Jem insisted, getting louder now. "Like Chevre. Do it."

(Maybe Tomo had something right. Maybe the biggest act of rebellion was not to play the Games at all.)

All the bloodlust and rage was gone from Two's face. Their lips were parted, her jaw slack. She didn't even blink, but Jem could see tears in their eyes.

"Do it," he shouted at them. "Do it!"

Two tensed, the tip of the blade digging into Jem's Adam's apple. It stung, and Jem could feel a hot drop of blood dripping down his neck. Tears coursed through the dust on Two's cheeks. But the blade went no further.

Jem kept his breathing shallow as he leaned back slightly. As he shifted, he gathered his legs beneath him and pushed to his feet, towering over Two.

She didn't move. Their eyes were locked on the ghost behind him.

Jem glanced at Chevre. The ghost stood behind Two, gaze settled on their shoulders. Jem could see the head wound making her blonde hair stringy and tangled, the various cuts and broken bones scattered across her body.

A lump formed in his throat, guilt nearly overtaking him.

That's not Chevre, he had to remind himself. Chevre wasn't hurting anymore. Chevre had escaped these fucking Games.

And now Tomo had, too.

Jem's face burned, and tears pressed against the backs of his eyes. He stepped back, yanking his gaze away from Chevre. Two was still frozen on the ground, blade in shaking hand, staring at the One girl's ghost with wide eyes.

Before sorrow could overcome him and drag him back toward Two's blade, Jem Piper did what he did best.

He turned and ran.

Chase Holloway, 15

District 5, She/Her

8:28 PM

When the sun set and the anthem sounded, Chase turned her face toward the night sky.

She'd heard two cannons earlier in the day, and that number turned out to be right. Two faces appeared- the district partner Fleur was fond of, and the small one from Twelve. No Valentina.

Chase was glad. That meant she could still do this herself.

It was a disappointment to see the Seven boy the other night, though it probably made Chase's goal easier; Valentina was nothing more than a wily-spined piece of shit sidekick, after all. Chase was determined to stomp her into the dirt at the earliest opportunity.

The only problem was that in order to destroy her, Chase had to find her first.

Ever since Chase had left Fleur to be collected by the hovercrafts, she'd been searching for any traces of the Seven girl. Her head was constantly on a swivel, her thoughts so consumed with finding Valentina that every snapped twig and print in the dust seemed to be Chase's enemy.

(Searching was easier. When she stopped to rest, the memories of Fleur's burning skin and fading dimples filled her head, and grief overcame her again.

It was so much easier to keep walking. To keep looking. That way, she could let her hate keep putting one step in front of the other, and fill her thoughts with fantasies of what she'd do to Valentina when she got her hands on her.

Fleur didn't deserve a second of the pain she got. Valentina was complicit in every second of it.

For that, she would fucking pay.)

She had to stop looking soon. Chase wanted to keep going, but her eyelids were heavy and her feet were sore.

Just a few more minutes, she willed herself.

(She wasn't ready to be faced with her grief quite yet today.)

Chase kept going, one step at a time. She was in the hills now, and her calves burned as she pushed herself higher. It was a relief when she reached the top and could let gravity pull her down again. More than once, she'd been tempted to roll down the hills, but she could never pull herself out of her mission long enough for even a moment of respite.

When she reached the bottom, she exhaled, readying herself for one more climb. Before she could continue, though, she noticed something new out of the corner of her eye. Something… odd.

Built into the earth was a square wooden doorframe. There was no door, though. Chase took a few cautious steps closer and realized that the doorframe led to some kind of tunnel. The air at the edge of the doorframe smelled musty and stale, and the tunnel looked dark. A shudder ran up Chase's spine. She glanced down, scuffing her boot in the dust as she wondered whether or not to go further-

-and saw something else.

Another set of footprints stamped clearly into the dust, descending down into the tunnels.

(Chase couldn't help but think that they looked just the right size to be…).

A small, vicious smile stretched across her lips. Her hesitation disappeared.

She curled her hands into fists and began the descent.

8th: mendi navar, d12 (killed by infection)

7th: tomo metellus, d6 (killed by bastet avarne)

kills:

aveline: 1
invincible: 2
bastet: 3
mercury: 1
tisiphone: 2
brizo: 1
valentina: 1
aescelin: 2
jem: 1
patrek: 1
mendi: 2

alliances:

invincible & tisiphone
bastet
chase
valentina
jem

featured ghosts:

aveline averone, d1, fool's gold (killed by jem piper)
chevre kanaf-kaziol, d10, fool's gold (killed by bastet avarne)

thank you so much to em for submitting mendi and laney for submitting tomo! mendi was so precious to Me even if she was a feral badger to everyone else. her intro was honestly one of my favorites to write. i love instability i love unreliability and i love her brain. sorry to everyone she hissed at and removed throats from but her interactions with bry and patrek and tiernan were all fascinating to me. she's been near and dear for a long time and i am sad to have to let her go. and of course tomo! first of all, apologies for killing him with another laney kid but i had to ok. tomo fueled some very fun scenes and i will always be appreciative of how he drove esper nuts all the time because that is one of my #1 values. his brain was another really interesting place to be- tomo's black-and-white moral thinking, and his struggle to resolve that with the realities of the games, was definitely a highlight. his time with merc and jem in particular was also v important to me. rip tomo i am proud of u for making a decision.

i said this the other day in the discord but thank u guys for being patient with me. life has been not incredible as of late and i really don't know where i'd be right now if it weren't for a few of you (u know who u are). in case anyone was worried, this fic Will get done. but i appreciate all my homies even though i definitely don't say it enough. thank u for sticking with me as i continue the child murdering spree!

thank u to goldie for betaing. i will see you next time for day 12! six tributes remain...

rb