Introductions III.

Oh, the wave it comes again and it takes over me.
So dependent on the chemical to settle in.
Once again, I hope to feel a glimpse of something.

Marlowe Chyning lives in a bubble of her own making.

Life is good. Life is fair. Life is positive.

Anything is possible.

Marlowe has huge visions for her future; dreams that she can't let go, fairy tales that she knows she can make reality, no matter what anyone else says. She has them written down across several different journals, doodles and sacred writings that scrawl between cover to cover. Marlowe refuses to let them scatter in the wind, never to be seen to fruition. She will own her own animal sanctuary, she will publish a book of poems, she will travel the country with…with—

Oh sweetie, head stuck in the clouds again?

Care to join us for dinner? Your brother received another award from school. We're having pork chops to celebrate, doesn't that sound nice?

William is going to work in the city next year, isn't that so exciting!

What a quaint idea, sweetie. Now run along, I have to get back to work but we can talk about it more later.

A door slams open downstairs. Her parents' voices slowly drift up from the living room, animated and full of praise, no doubt for William. He probably just returned from another successful day at school, folders full of high marks or a note from another teacher showering him with compliments. Not that he needs any more. It's the same thing every day. Like clockwork. Her parents applaud her brother's victories while Marlowe's own achievements go unnoticed, like whispers lost in the wind.

Marlowe sighs, glancing at the stack of papers and textbooks on her desk. She's spent the past few days completing assignments not due for weeks, months even, but every time she tried to explain each completed project or formula solved, her parents' eyes would glaze over, their focus drifting back to William. It's as if she exists in the shadows, her dreams eclipsed by his bright light.

Ambition fuels the blood in her heart.

She's determined to make them proud, to show that she can amount to something, that she can make a name for herself. Marlowe has tried to bury her head deeper into her studies, but with each passing day, doubt creeps in, murmuring that she might never reach the heights she imagined. She feels caught between the desire to prove herself and the lingering doubt instilled by her parents. On one hand, Marlowe craves their approval; on the other, she fears losing the essence of who she is. Late at night, she often finds herself lying awake, imagining the impact she could have, but by morning, the weight of her parents' expectations settle over her like a heavy blanket.

Will her parents ever see her as more than their daughter with her head stuck in the clouds? Can they ever believe that she could bring them joy? At this point, Marlowe isn't too sure that they will ever change their minds about her future. All they see is a girl with no prospects besides sitting still and waiting to get married off to a man from a wealthy family.

Even if that is the case, at least Marlowe knows one person will never see her that way.

Sitting at her desk, overlooking the fields of green that dance in the wind outside her bedroom window, lace curtains billowing in the breeze like angel wings, Marlowe finally picks up her pen after staring it down for what feels like ages. She carefully tunes out the noise that slips under her door—she won't let it taint something so special.

Marlowe knows she might live in a world of her own creation, she's heard her parents mention it once or twice in hushed conversations, but if all goes well at the reaping, if Summer intertwines her fingers with her own, then she might have enough courage to…to…

To do more than dream.

The afternoon sun pours through the dusty window of the old farmhouse, casting warm golden light over the room. The scent of hay and wildflowers drifts in from the open window, mingling with the faint scent of ink. At her sturdy oak desk, Marlowe's heart races as she poises her pen over a piece of faded stationery adorned with tiny blue flowers.

The sprawling ranch lays beyond the window, fields stretching endlessly toward the horizon, where the sky melts into a brilliant orange. It's peaceful here, but Marlowe feels anything but calm. She glances out at the horses grazing lazily in the distance, the paid wranglers gathering ropes and feed nearby, collecting her thoughts like the clouds gathering for an evening storm.

Taking a deep breath, she begins to write, her pen scratching softly against the paper.

Dear Summer,

She pauses, biting her lip. Summer's laughter echoes in her mind—light and melodic, the kind that makes her heart skip. She imagines the way Summer's eyes sparkle when she talks about the stars, and how she always seems to find the beauty in everything, even the dust motes dancing in the sunlight.

I've been thinking about how much fun we had last summer. It's always my favorite day of the year, despite the circumstances. I know I've been a bit of a chicken about this, but I can't keep it in any longer.

Marlowe's hand trembles slightly as she writes, her heart thumping with a mix of excitement and fear. She pauses again, glancing out the window to see the cows lazily chewing their cud, oblivious to her turmoil. Hay bales sit amidst the summer heat, stubborn like the herd that surrounds them.

I like you. Like, really like you.

She let the words hang in the air for a moment, a weight lifted off her chest. The admission feels both terrifying and liberating. She continues, her thoughts spilling onto the page.

I don't want to ruin our friendship, but I can't ignore this feeling. You make me laugh, you make me feel seen, and I just...I want to know if you feel the same way?

Marlowe reads the sentence over, her cheeks flushing. What if Summer doesn't feel the same? What if it changes everything? She shakes her head, banishing the doubt as she adds a final line. A sentence that she's been wanting to write out on each letter that she's sent over the past year.

I hope we can talk about this more after. No pressure, though. Just know that you mean a lot to me.

She signs her name, her heart racing as she finishes. With a small smile, she folds the letter carefully, tucking it into an envelope decorated with little doodles of stars and horses. Tomorrow, she'll deliver it in person at the reaping, standing outside the pens where they often meet, the air thick with anticipation.

Vakil won't have to be troubled with delivering the envelope this time. She will be brave.

Marlowe has to admit that she grew up a bit scared of her older, much more affluent neighbor. The heir to some of the largest processing plants in the district, he was always a bit of a bully. Once Vakil started causing a ruckus in the hills, her parents instructed Marlowe and William to steer clear of the boy. Somehow, though, he's become the only person that knows about Summer.

It doesn't make them friends, but his trips out of the countryside and into Lighter's Rest has allowed her to continue her connection with the girl that she hasn't been able to stop thinking about since her first reaping. Vakil never explained how he was able to track Summer down, or why he even travels to that part of the district so frequently, but he promised to help her out.

And a promise means something in Ten.

Perception is everything and opinions tend to last, for better or worse.

Marlowe glances out at the ranch one last time, feeling a mix of hope and fear. She imagines the moment Summer will read her words, her expression, and how it could change everything. She can't help but grin. No matter what happens, at least she will finally muster up enough courage to take the leap.

That has to count for something, right?

At her core, Tallulah lives life looking for the next thrill.

For a long time, it was all she knew. Having fun down by the bay, jumping off bluffs because she felt bold, surfing, or lazying around the docks to pass the time; Lulu did whatever the hell she wanted whenever the hell she wanted. It's not like her parents ever really cared that much. They still don't, to be fair. A stick-in-the-mud for a mother that passes the time perfecting her imitation of belly-up fish and a father trying to keep them all afloat.

Running around in the streets, traversing the cliffs…it was child's play, and unfortunately Tally learned that you can't be a kid forever. The party has to end at some point, whether or not you want it to. And Lulu tried her damnedest to keep the lights on and the music pumping.

It's how most people in Bluport know her by name. Tallulah Covel. Four's best entertainer.

Sure, she's the first to admit that she can be annoying sometimes, but when everyone that passes her by offers a wave or tries to strike up a conversation, it makes Lulu feel like she isn't just a random poor girl from the shorelines—she actually matters.

While she's been a bit more preoccupied with real responsibilities, courtesy of her father putting his foot down and demanding she find a real job, Lulu still manages to find the spotlight. A few years covered in guts down at the canneries has done little in bruising her ego. Though she hasn't been able to truly scrub away the stench of fish, the fuckers.

Yet, Lulu is proud to say her presence still seems to shimmer in the air around her, an invisible pull that draws people in like moths to a flame. Getting used to a set regiment and having to put her head down and work was the worst, but Lulu refused to let it shake her confidence. She thrives on attention, and she wields her charm with little shame, knowing full well the effect she has on those around her.

Recently, she's been able to use her natural talents as a part-time mermaid tour guide for silly little groups of Capitol tourists at Crystal Lagoon, the latest and greatest resort built on top of Four's natural springs and underwater caverns. It's better than her last job serving customers at some half-flooded seafood shack down in Havenside, that's for shit sure. She gets about as many compliments at her new job as she got complaints trying to remember ticket orders at Scully's, so Lulu considers it a step in the right direction.

Dressing as a mermaid to get ogled by Capitol tourists, the only people who can afford the steep fees to get into the resort, isn't all that bad compared to getting screamed at by drunken fisherman. The bikini made out of shells is a downgrade, but the performance aspect of her role at the Lagoon makes up for it.

It's that very thought that got her through the last thirty minutes of her shift today. The twenty Panars tucked into her pocket thanks to an adoring patron provides a second wind too. Sucker. Clean-faced and sea salt freshly washed from her long hair, Lulu runs out of the dressing room, belongings half-hazardly thrown into her duffle as she sprints through the hallways that lead to the ferry slip on the other side of the resort.

"You looked beautiful today, Lulu," the facilities manager drawls as she hurries down the fluorescent-lit tunnel leading away from the performance chamber.

"Fuck off, Edlyn!" she yells back, pausing to detach the last of her costume and toss it at his head as she passes his office. "Try to make me the Kraken again, I dare you, asshole."

"I don't know how an audience is going to realistically see you as anything else with that shitty attitude!"

She doesn't bother to respond, too pressed for time, so Lulu throws up a middle finger behind her back and sprints towards the side entrance, body glitter and sand left in her wake. Ed's not that bad, especially compared to her previous bosses. He's about sixty-nine million years old and wears too many ugly button-up shirts, but he's pretty harmless. Apparently he got his foot in the door fast when the President opened the borders to Capitol tourism and hasn't looked back.

He's really not the worst by any means. Actually puts up with a ton of her bullshit, partially because Lulu's fantastic at her job and partially because he doesn't give too much of a fuck what his employees do so long as visitors don't complain. All things considered, Ed is one hundred times better than any of the instructors down at the Center—his brain isn't too full of seaweed, unlike those idiots.

The ferry is just about to leave by the time she arrives, hands waving in the air, calling out for the captain to hold on. Lulu has to pass along some of her cash as thanks, but if that's what makes Jonah wait around for her before disembarking, then she's more than fine with that. The trip to Bluport begins quickly. Lulu stands on the deck of the ferry, her hair dancing wildly in the salty sea breeze. As the boat cuts through the waves, the rhythmic sound of water splashing against the hull fills the air. She leans against the railing, feeling the cool metal beneath her fingertips, and watches the shoreline slowly recede.

The horizon stretches endlessly, painted in hues of blue and green, blending into the sky. Seagulls wheel overhead, their cries mingling with the chatter of other passengers, rich inlanders and obnoxious Capitol tourists. With each gust of wind, the ocean spray kisses her cheeks, a refresher to set her mind straight before her afternoon session with Mo. He's too polite to call her out on her frantic appearance, but he deserves her best; one last spar before he volunteers tomorrow. Not that he needs her fully present, considering Moises García is the best trainee the Center has produced in years.

Lulu can hold her own against him for a while; trade blows and swing a sword to keep him on his toes. Her abs cast shadows for crying out loud! She was born for that sort of stuff, to be seen and admired and adored. But she was kind of a late bloomer training-wise. Only really joined because she felt left out when Zarya had to leave whatever the fuck they were doing to go train. Much to her own surprise—and her own ex-girlfriend's—Lulu was much better at the Career thing than expected. Even with Mo taking pity on her after the breakup and investing the time to show her the ropes, she is still no match for his brain nor brawn.

It doesn't stop her from thinking about the possibility of tomorrow.

More the idea of it than anything is enticing. Lulu would be lying if she said she hasn't been considering her options. At first, training was nothing serious, just another activity to pass the time and mess around with Zarya. It didn't take Lulu long to realize that the Games—and volunteering for them—could be the exact ticket out of Four that she had been looking for. Sure, it's not the safest route to the ultimate freedom she has always imagined, but it's not as if Lulu has ever shied away from the danger of it all, either.

If she can transform herself into an ethereal mermaid every day to be gawked at for hours, surely she could do whatever the Capitol wants.

Honestly, she doesn't even know or remember which girl the Center picked—it could be Zarya or someone else, and frankly she could care less. Lulu knows that if she doesn't figure out what to do with the rest of her life soon, then she'll be stuck washing dishes or playing dress up forever. Boring. Mundane. Ordinary. She's going to live and die like everyone else, and that is a fate worse than death in her books.

The ferry begins to sway gently with the dance of the sea. The sun peeks through the clouds, casting sparkling reflections on the water, and Lulu can see herself in the light. Dancing and smiling and putting on a show for all of Panem to see. A horn blares a deep, resonant call that echoes across the bay.

Lulu watches as the other passengers move to gather their things or call for their children's attention, but she remains draped over the railing, wondering where their travels will take them next. She hopes they're as exciting as what she has planned.

Editing these took a bit longer than expected, but fuck it we ball.

Hope you all enjoy meeting these two girlies! I had fun with them, so I hope that translates.

As usual, chapter title and lyrics are courtesy of "Sublime" by Sarah Kinsley. I've had her latest album on repeat, if you're interested.

Until next time.