Something Sparks Inside of Me

Polarity Coulomb - 17 - District 3 - Alive

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Tillie's Reaping Day Outfit by creatorofnonsense featuring summer skirts

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Something to Live For :: 8 Months Post Arena :: Polarity & GMs

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“It varies from Victor to Victor: some never move past their demons, others do over time, some few carry on unaffected, others are transformed in ways they couldn’t imagine. I can vouch for you there.” I said, my experience in the Arena proving to be more of a wake up call than anything, "What happens from here on out is your decision alone, and from what we’ve all seen you have a supportive team to aid you. And that includes myself, you are a Victor beside me now and much like Ms. Thrush I’m here to help you.” I say, the same line I delivered to each of our Victors before her, all of which latched onto my bait at one point or another.

“Every class at the academy has a few cadets like you, hell I’ve seen some men fall apart in the line of duty after taking someone out. They say the same things you do, that they feel proud and did what they had to do, then end up crumpled up and crying days later.” Skayne followed up, earning a stare from the girl, “What I’m trying to say kid, is that what you’re feeling is normal. You acted in your own line of duty and you’re just going through the shock of it.” the Peacekeeper shrugged.

“Some commit suicide.” I state matter of factly. “Some descend into madness. Some disappear.” I finish the options he left off. I don’t mean it as a challenge, simply as a point that Gattin left off. “I’ve learned that a lot of what happens to me is my choice. But a lot of it isn’t.” I consider the two men before me. I went in to their arena sure that it was my choice if I came out alive or not, and that was what kept me fighting. But the longer I’m alive the less certain I am of that idea. I lower my eyes, because I don’t want to outright disagree with him, at least not out loud. But I do want him to know I’m smarter than he thinks I am.

I glare at Skayne, blunt as ever. He shrugs and my face softens. It’s his idea of comfort. Just like his idea of help in the arena was a blunt metal object with which to combat tasers and poison. It doesn’t look very useful at first, but you have to figure out how to use it. 

“I forgot how to be rigid.” I comment, staring at the palms of my hands. My mother has commented on it numerous times now. My posture has changed, the way I walk, my language even. “Nothing is black and white anymore. I can see shades of gray and they’re fucking endless.” I stand and walk towards the water, leaving the two older men behind me. “And I liked it better the way I had it before.” I’m not bitter, or angry, and my tone isn’t either. Instead I’m nostalgic, wistful. 

“I wouldn’t be a good Peacekeeper anymore.” I turn back to them, deciding to confront the issue before they can. “I mean....I could be physically....And I can follow orders....but....my heart wouldn’t be in it.” I purse my lips and let my gaze travel between Skayne and Gattin. “But I won’t be a good mentor either. I’m not a teacher or patient mother.” I fold my hands behind my back. “So where does that leave me? Useless? Another trophy for the shelf to gather dust?” I look at them, silently begging them to have an answer. 

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Something to Live For :: 8 Months Post Arena :: Polarity & GMs

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We followed her into the house, its layout being an exact copy of the others not only in the District, but the entire country, “No thank you, dear.” I replied, Skayne declining as well, “Actually would you mind taking a walk with us? I’d prefer fresh air to being stuck indoors, plus I had my own fill of these type of houses.” I said, recalling my own house I had in Six over a decade ago. Truth be told I spent more time outside during that time than in, call it a force of old habit. Plus, I didn’t want to deal with the girls parents. We were here on business, not socialization.

There was a “lake” just behind the Victors Village, and by lake I meant an artificial creation of the Capitol, but it was an open space and gave us the privacy we wanted, “How have you been over the last few months, dear?” I asked as I stood in front of the bench she and Skayne sat on, “You can be as open as you want with us, kid. We look after our Victors after all.” Skayne assured her, which was true, even though there was always an alternative agenda lacing our words.

We walk outside, and I’m honestly thankful for their suggestion. It gets us out of the stifling air of the house, filled with possessions too small and worn for its grandeur. 

The lake is fake, and it’s easy to tell because it’s a nearly perfect circle. A shape that nature simply doesn’t create. That and it starts and stops with an abruptness that is a constant reminder it was simply cut into the land. We sit and stand before it, and I tear my gaze away from the artificially still and clear water to look at Gattin. 

“Guilty. Scared. Proud.” I come up with each word carefully, a pause separating them. “I don’t sleep much. I’m always looking over my shoulder. And....” I shake my head, “I had to do it, and I should be proud I did it...I mean...I am proud that I did it...but, it never feels right.” I scuff one of my worn boots against the ground. “Sigma says that’s normal. She says it gets easier with time. I think she’s just making it up.” I shrug and look at Gattin, hoping maybe he’ll confirm it’s true. 

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Something to Live For :: 8 Months Post Arena :: Polarity & GMs

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Polarity’s victory stunned the Capitol, the majority favoring the other three tributes who stood in the ballroom what seemed like only a few days ago. The wake of the Games were routine for Skayne and myself; the interviews, celebrations, and then of course came our newfound relationship with our Victor, but unlike others before her we had a dual agenda with the girl, “We’ll talk when the time is right.” Skayne assured her before she departed for Three immediately after the Games.

And now, the time felt right.

The train pulled into Three early in the morning, an overcast sky and crisp breeze accompanying us from the station to the Victors Village, ironic conditions given the Arena Polarity had endured months prior, “What are the odds she’s awake this early?” Skayne asked as we approached one of the three occupied mansions, “Let’s hope them to be in your favor.” I said over a light smirk as I flicked my cigarette to the ground and knocked, leaving the smile on my face as our newly crowned Victor answered the door, “Looks like they are.” Skayne joked, “What’re you doing awake, kid? It’s early.” 

“Hope we didn’t wake you, dear. We can come back later in the afternoon if you would like.” I offered.

“Awake because I can’t sleep.” I shrugged and stepped backwards to allow them into the house. “It’s fine, come in, please.” I did my best to be as polite as always. 

It was strange because the two men no longer caused fear to fill my stomach. Yes, I still respected them. And yes, I still wished to be polite. But the fear was gone entirely. Perhaps because I knew what they were capable of, and I knew that I was capable of surviving that. Or perhaps because I had trouble feeling afraid of much of anything besides myself, these days. 

I led them into the parlor, decorated in the soft pinks my mother had chosen. My flowered crown sat on the mantelpiece, a picture of Diode to the left of it, and a framed letter from Snow to my parents, on the right. I tried to ignore all three of these things. 

“Can I get you anything? Coffee?” I offered. 

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Something to Live For :: 8 Months Post Arena :: Polarity & GMs

Life in Victor’s village in Three was quiet. With only three victors, and one of them being a computer program, it was only Sigma and myself residing in the mansions. My mother and father moved in with me, of course. But it was strange living in the giant house after our one roomed home. There were six bedrooms alone, so sometimes I slept in a different one each night. 

I felt as if the whirlwind tours of the districts had only just ended, despite the fact that it had been over months ago. After I got home I had spent the first few weeks writing letters to the families of every tribute I had felled. I still hadn’t heard back, but I wasn’t sure the letters actually ever reached them. 

My mother cried when I told her about Diode. But my father seemed pleased. His son was alive, but he had met with justice. I just tried not to think about it. I spent a lot of time trying not to think about things. I’d settled into an uneasy routine over time. Nightmare filled sleep, a morning run, time spent cooking my parents a lunch, an afternoon workout, time to clean myself up, late tea with Sigma, a nap, dinner with my parents, and another run before bed in the hope that I would wear myself out enough to sleep. 

It was eight months to the day since I had won. I was sitting in the parlor, the early morning sun shining through a fairly thick cloud cover, wondering why I had woken up so early that morning, when the doorbell rang. I jumped up, 

“I’ve got it!” I hollered up the stairs, my parents only just awakening. I yanked the heavy oak door open with an easy tug, and fell silent at the faces before me. 

[digorykirke]

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May I present, Victor of the 82nd Hunger Games, Polarity Coulomb!

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Crowned :: Post Arena OS

The music faded and an eerie silence filled the ballroom. Polarity lifted her head and found herself alone in the space, her eyes widening as a new sound boomed through her ears, “May I present the Victor of the 82nd Annual Hunger Games: Polarity Coulomb of District Three!” 

I sunk to my knees, my baton falling from my hands. Blood dripped from my hands, my face, my clothing. Gasping for air, my chest rose and fell in erratic patterns. Three dead girls lay around me, and desperate to look anywhere but their dead bodies, I turned my eyes skywards. To my shock the high vaulted ceiling was gone, replaced by the bottom of a rapidly advancing Capitol craft. 

I shut my eyes, and let the shadow of the whirring plane envelop me. As I rise into the air, I fade in and out of consciousness, not sure what reality is and isn’t. The faces of the other tributes seem to swim before my eyes as I fade from the world. 

Faintly I can hear voices around me, although I’m too tired to even open my eyes and see who they are.

“She’s dehydrated.”  “They’re always dehydrated.”  “Is she still conscious?”  “Barely.”  “Damn. Usually they’re long gone by now. Let’s get her under.” 

I feel a needle pierce my skin, and cold gloved hands are grasping my limbs. And suddenly a warmth is flooding my veins, and the pain is gone, and so are my fears, and worries, and my guilt. And I sleep. 

The lights are far too bright, and my body aches from head to toe. I blink rapidly, squinting into the white glare. A fuzzy face is hovering at the edge of my vision, and as I bring it into focus I realize it’s my mentor, and I have never been so glad to see her. Sigma is cast in a halo by the pale lamps, and she leans over me, draped in clinking diamonds. 

“Hello my little Victor.” She coos softly and I feel her take my hand. “You did it Polarity. You won!” I can see her eyes glistening, and I can’t tell if it’s pride or sadness, because she sounds happy, yet refuses to smile. 

“You’re very lucky. Your face has healed, and you’ll look fine for the ceremony! The agreed to delay it because they didn’t want you looking gruesome.” Somehow it’s reassuring that Sigma is still concerned with looks. I smile and it hurts. 

Wincing I open my mouth, “I-I-I....can’t mo-ove my..” 

“Don’t talk dear. You’re still a bit swollen. You have several casts on. That’s why you can’t move.” She pats my hand reassuringly. “You’ll fall asleep again soon. And don’t worry, I’m not letting them give you too much morphling. It’s terrible for your complexion.” She rolls her eyes at a passing nurse, and I suppress a giggle. “Oh! The Black Widow and The Queen! That’s the nickname they’ve given you, you know. Or that you gave yourself. Quite a good strategy, Dear. We’ll make a lovely pair!” She lapses into the story of how she got her arena name, despite the fact that I’ve heard it many times. Yet it’s still reassuring, and I fall asleep to her sultry voice. 

Dagger is straightening my dress, and Barb and Wire are flitting around me like hummingbirds on drugs. I’m torn between wanting to hug them without letting go, and simply crying. Barb and Wire keep pecking my cheeks in between passes and commenting (rather thoughtlessly) about how they were certain I was dead, and how sad it made them, yet somehow every time I get emotional. 

Finally they’re done and Triumph and Sigma appear, dressed in head to toe black in respect for the fallen tributes. I’ll be the only one in a color, and the President, of course, in white. 

“Are you ready?” Triumph asks and I’m fascinated by her black onyx leg glittering beneath her skirts. I nod silently in response. Sigma offer me her arm and we leave the room trailed by my prep teams quiet happy tears. 

Moments later I stand before a red velvet curtain, and on the other side I can hear the roar of a crowd. It sounds large, larger than the parade even was. Muffled through the curtain I can hear the President begin to speak and the crowd falls silent. And then, unmistakably, I hear my own name. 

“Go.” Triumph hisses and gives me a nudge.  “We’ll be right behind you.” Reminds Sigma. 

Parting the curtains, I step through and am met by the sight of the Capitol laid out below me, the balcony extending over the citizens beneath me. They go wild, screaming, shouting, throwing roses that could never reach the height upon which I stand. The cameras are everywhere, and I let a small smile grace my cheeks, as I turn to the nearest one. And the crowd goes wild anew. 

President Snow steps forwards, the Victor’s Crown in his white gloved hands. He’s silent but almost smiling as he places the circlet upon my head. It’s heavier than I expect, but I catch my reflection in the lens of a camera, and I wear it well. 

I step to the edge of the balcony, and the crowd erupts in a final roar. I lift one hand, and as the Queen I am, I humbly greet my people. 

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Finale Part III: Dina v. Polarity.

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Finale Part I: Polarity v. Casey

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Status Update :: Day 3: 

Three Items: Throwing Knife (tucked in boot,) Metal Peacekeeper’s Baton, Flare Gun/Flare 

Injuries: Gash on Arm - Now properly bandaged, healing, and two days old Small bat bites on legs - Healed and two days old Injured Back Stab to Left Shoulder - Properly Bandaged Bruised Cheek (A potato?! Seriously?)  Fractured Left Wrist - Properly Bandaged but not splinted 

Miscellaneous: Thankfully washed myself and combed out my hair as best I could. Consumed tablet of morphling which I am most thankful for. Ate some of my jerky and a bit of the sandwich. But I know better than to fight on a very full stomach. Drank some water. Bandaged all of my injuries properly. Chose my items, and away I go...

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While Polarity attends to her wounds a parachute floats down from the ceiling containing a tablet of morphling. There is a note included:

Show me how much you want this. -Skayne Lerinoff.

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A parachute floats down in front of Polarity containing a flare gun with one round. There is a note attached:

“Shoot for the stars, my Queen and aim for their hearts!” There is no signature.

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Polarity v. Colton

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A parachute floats down to Polarity containing a metal Peacekeepers baton. There is a note included:

Impress me. -Skayne Lerinoff.

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This is What Makes Us Girls :: Polarity and Dina :: Arena Day 2

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The girl mimics me. I try not to stare at my new ally. I figured she isn’t going to attack me, and therefor is truthful. Not trustworthy, exactly. But I wouldn’t have to worry all day and night about her drawing that axe on me. I swallow hard at her words, thinking about what I know. Which isn’t exactly a lot, granted; I’ve not explored much, and I know Vodka already made a kill.

I shove my oh-so charismatic fiance from my mind. 

Rubbing my arm through my woolly shawl, I try to recall anything of importance. I pick at the threading. Besides the run-in with the old lady in the dirty cabin, I’ve been mostly free of tributes crossing my path. I keep picking at the threading. So I shake my head, watching as her hand slides through her hair. I purse my lips at the motion, watching how her fingers weave through the locks on her forehead. As if in slow-motion, in my eyes. I kneel, swinging the backpack around to pull out the blanket I stole earlier.

“Here,” I hand it to her, and she gives me a puzzling look. I open my mouth to speak. And then close it, choking on my words. I am not very good at interacting with others, even when I want to. I try again, forcing myself not choke on letters and syllables. “You can dry off.” I manage, and even smile to myself after. I did it.

My life, since the age of ten, has all been training. Practice. Drills. Scenarios. Tactics. Pointers. Battling. But they never sat us down to teach us how to look someone in the eye, so I find myself struggling to do so now. I fear that maybe I’m not as strong as I would like to think I am. Social skills are just as important as technical ones. I swallow my fear, pushing my anxious thoughts to the deepest corners of my mind. Still, they come back to bite me in return.

Flawed.

I shake my head as I hear a faint beeping fade in. Snapping my head up, because I know that sound, I search for the automated little box to float down from the simulated sky. A parachute attached to a silver square lands in my hands, and I glance up at Polarity while opening the lid. Inside of the coal-colored, Capitol-smelling box is a single vial of what looks like… water. I frown again, tapping it, but then freeze when I remember my training.

Not water. Definitely not water. Actually, the opposite of water.

Polarity eyes me, and I swivel the box around to show her the small gift. “Poison.” I mutter, tapping the vial again. Thankful for Gem and her fire, I put the vial and its box into the backpack. I do not want it to crack open while running around the arena. “Muscle paralytic.” 

She offers me a towel and I pause in surprise. It’s a kindness, and not one I was expecting from my stoic new partner. Slowly, I reach out and accept the parley. I run the fabric through my hair and shake the moisture from it. I scrub off my face, and wipe down my arms, and it feels good to shed the dampness from my bones. The rain has slowed to a pale drizzle, hardly the downpour I awoke to, and as I dry off I feel more and more like myself. 

“Thanks.” I reply, and roll the stiffness off my shoulders. I’m not sure if I should offer to return the towel or not, so I hold it out so that she can have it back if she wants it. “That was...really nice of you.” 

A parachute falls towards us, and lands in Dina’s hands. I watch with intrigue as she produces a vial. She explains, or rather announces, that it contains a muscle paralytic and I can’t help the small smile that curves my lips. “We could have fun with that.” I reply. 

The chemical vial reminds me of my own supplies and I reach into my pack and produce the bundles of dried herbs that I took from the apothecary. “I can’t identify these. But I took them anyway. I thought, maybe you would know. Since you have more training than I do.” 

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Status Update :: Day 2: 

Fly Away :: OS 

This is What Makes Us Girls :: Dina & Polarity 

Supplies: Map, 1 smashed sandwich, 2 bottles of water, broken charcoal, first aid kit, dried herbs from apothecary, beef jerky, 10 matches.Weapons: Woodsman’s Axe, Wooden Stake

Injuries:  Small bat bites on legs, minor, nearly healed. Gash on lower left arm, superficial but bloody, bandaged and healing. 

Allies: Dina Lao