You know that feeling you get when you look outside? I mean, when you’re the only one up and it’s five o’clock in the morning when the sky’s colors are so pale and delicate that you can’t tell it apart from the clouds? It’s not so bad once you get to appreciate it.
At least I was enjoying the feeling of isolation as I walked out the house. I was making a delivery today for the fourth time in a row. It’s not even my job to deliver the… Oh, what did they order again? Beef? No, no. Today, it was lamb. It didn’t matter too much though. The crisp air and the smell of dew cleansed my pallet, and I liked that along with the hearing the crunch of gravel under my shoes and the crinkling wrapping paper in my hand. It seems to me that you can only notice these types of things when there’s and absence of people. Well, maybe not notice, but collect. It’s your only chance to collect all the morning’s moments like how the muted colors of the buildings and plants slowly brighten up with each second that passes. I used to imagine when I was younger that with each step I took, I colored the world.
That collection process was about to come to an end though, I knew it. The delivery would take at least 40 minutes to and from, and by that time I was done, everyone would begin to rise and start their day. 10 minutes into the walk, I already saw another early bird leave his house.
As soon as I had gotten to the destination and dropped off the food, the whole neighborhood was hustling to work. I waved and smiled to a lot of the people as I walked back, but no one did in return. I wasn’t too bothered, realizing they must be busy, and instead turned my attention to my surroundings. Even the sky seemed to fall into its usual routine as it turned the same blue that it did every day. I took a deep breath and realize that dewy smell was gone as usual. I figured then that I should change things up a little. Y’know, keep things a little interesting and not fall into the same patterns that everyone else was doing? I take a turn and head straight into the heart of the town.
Shops were beginning to open at this point, and I could have been first in line at any of them, but I decided to only look. Bread, eggs, meat. Again, the usual. Ah, but it was the candy stand that of course caught my eye. It was a childhood favorite as I used to watch him swirl the gooey and bold colored sugar onto a stick. The man who ran it also sold vegetables on the side, so I approached him as he was setting up his second stand.
“Hey, son. How are you today?”
I smile and reply, “I’m good. I’d like some twirled candy.”
The man stops and scoffs.
“Candy this early? Young man, you’ll get a stomach ache.”
“Oh, I know. I just thought maybe I should treat myself anyways.”
“Well, alright. It’ll take a while to warm it up though.”
I nod in understanding and use the time to walk around the town a bit more. By this time, the sun was above the buildings and its rays bounced off the walls with such intensity that you had to squint to see any details.
But I’m no longer squinting when I begin to focus at the people milling about in the streets. Up ahead was a woman, and with the way the sun was acting, it looked like her hair was blazing with fire. Or did she have honey for hair with the color it was producing?
I stopped in my tracks and watch her and the man she was walking with. Were they a couple? No, no. There’s too much space between them and they don’t seem to be talking. It looked like they were… collecting. But there were so many people outside?
Is that President Brandt? I-It is!
It was so peculiar that I was tempted to approach them. I start to walk towards the two until the woman looks over her shoulder at me. I stop immediately and feel the burning glare in her eyes heat up my face as her hair slicks off her shoulder. I turn around and start walking back to the candy stand as I feel my ears get hot with embarrassment. I hope she doesn’t think I was following her. She looked really familiar though. Maybe she was part of the rebellion? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t keep up to date with the war.
No matter. I probably won’t see her again anyways.
Somebody yelled. “President Brandt and Gamemaker Blair are here!"
The market was a total disaster. The second that President Brandt and Gamemaker Blair entered the District 9 commons, everything exploded into chaos. A few people ran madly towards them with looks of murder on their face. At the sight of the peacekeepers though, everyone quieted. Then the president began to give his speech.
I quietly crept out of the commons and headed home. I didn't care what the Capitol has to say. They murdered my friends and relatives. They burned my tribe. All I wanted was to be as far away from them as possible.
The moon was high as Ignacius ducked under a fallen tree that had been propped up by some old tree stumps nearby. As he made his way through the woods, he had to constantly shift the heavy package he was carrying. He had no idea what was in it. Not that he wanted to know. Once the package was delivered and the payment was given, Ignacius no longer cared about the mysteries that surrounded the transaction.
Before long he had made it to the secluded building that stood by the edge of the district. Approaching the back door, Ignacius saw it being cracked open by Bryant. Being the rookie of this team of Peacekeepers, he was the one tasked with staying up for the delivery. As soon as he saw the approaching figure, his face broke into a smile. Sprinting to meet Ignacius in the woods, he relieved him of his burden by taking the heavy package. The two headed into the building.
Ignacius was glad to see that the young man was happy. After all, a crate of delicacies from the Capitol was hard to come by. Bryant turned towards him, opening his mouth this issue thanks. Ignacius cut him off before he could speak.
“Listen, I know you glad I brought you this. But I won’t tell you how I obtained it. All I need is your payment and then I’ll be on my way.”
Bryant quickly dug through his pockets and pulled out the flint and cash. Ignacius graciously took the payment and went to head outside, anxious to get back home and start a fire so he could get warm. A small downpour had started on his way over, leaving him drenched. About fifty feet from the building, he heard Bryant clear his throat.
“Just to give you a head’s up, President Brandt will be visiting tomorrow along with Gamemaker Blair Norcross. They’ll be heavily guarded. Make sure you keep your second business under wraps, and don’t do anything stupid.”
Before Ignacius could ask any more questions, Bryant had closed the door and was heading upstairs. His head began to swim with the implications of this visit. It was probably about the upcoming Hunger Games. What or who would they be looking for? More importantly, why did they feel like they had to visit the District?
Thoughts such as these clouded his mind the whole way back home. As he opened the door. As he started a fire. As he undressed. As he hung his clothes up to dry. As he tried to fall asleep. As he absentmindedly circled his index finger around the old scar from when he was shot. The only release from these thoughts was when sleep overtook him.
The next morning, he dressed better than he normally did. Meaning he wore clean clothes that weren’t ripped to a point of disrepair. He tried to hide the bags under his eyes by making his hair looked magnificent. He wore his best dress shoes and brushed his teeth. He left his house unlocked, in case Emilia decided to show up again. It seemed like these days she was just coming and going as she pleased.
As he walked towards work, he noticed that the sky wasn’t overcast as usual. The sun was actually out. Maybe it was an omen, or maybe it was the Capitol’s work. Walking through the streets, he noticed that everyone in the town seemed to be dressed better and acting more proper today. Even the architecture itself seemed to look finer, more regal. They must already be here.
With the bell ringing as he entered the shop, Ignacius noticed that the air seemed a little different. He found his apron by the door, and tied it on. Looking around, he noticed that Eleanor was nowhere to be seen. This was odd. She was always there to scold him for showing up late or counting the pamphlets wrong when he sorted them the night before or for mixing the pulp to the wrong consistency. After a few seconds of scanning the shop, he called out her name.
The door to her office opened. This was quite a strange thing for in the time that he had known her, Ignacius had never seen Eleanor go into her office. She stepped out for behind the door. He went to call out some witty thing, something random and meaningless in the passage of time. He stopped himself from doing that when he noticed who was behind her.
It was the President and one of the Gamemakers. From what he could see of them through their heavy flank of guards on all sides, they looked just as regal and polished in person as they did in their images across all forms of media. As he was glancing them over Blair caught his eye.
“Ah! So this must the young man you were just speaking to us about. We’ve heard wonderful things about you boy. Seen some of your work as well. I do believe that you’ll do a fine job creating some new material for us.”
Ignacius began to sweat. Some of the most powerful people in Panem wanted him to do something? If he messed up, off with his head. He hoped that the task wouldn’t be too difficult. Apparently the look on his face gave away his concerns because President Brandt cleared his throat and spoke up.
“You see, we would like you to assist Eleanor in creating some new promotional materials for the Hunger Games. We want to get people excited for the games. We want them to feel absolutely exhilarated about them. After all, we don’t want all of the effort put into making the games go to waste, do we? I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.”
With this, the two left the shop surrounded by their army of guards. Watching out the window, Ignacius saw people rapidly moving out of their way on the street and shouting words of praise. It was pitiful how easy people succumb to those with power. But, he couldn’t really cast judgment upon them for acting the way they do because he did the same things.
Once they were out of sight, he pulled out his sketchpad and began to plan the new documents. It was exciting to have a new project to work on. It worried him at the same time though, for who knew exactly what the games would entail. What was he endorsing?
Hilarian stood in line with the other inmates, completely silent aside from coughs and dirty looks that spoke more than words. Ignoring his brother walking up and down the lines and maintaining the focus that was demanded of them was difficult, but he kept his head up.
Why in God’s name President Brandt thought it was a good idea to visit an adolescent prison, he wasn’t sure. To reform them? Surely not. To keep them in their place, the pets that wouldn’t behave. All of them watched the clock. The visit was at three, and sure enough, the doors swung open, on the dot.
The first to march in were peacekeepers, four of them, and then the President and a blonde girl, followed by more peacekeepers. President Brandt wasted absolutely no time, clapping his hands and smiling at the rotten fruit of society that hit every single fucking branch on the way down. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.” Blank stares met him, and Hilarian lost interest immediately. He turned his attention instead to the girl.
She was... Hilarian looked closer. She was angry, eyeing the P.K.s around her with distain. She didn’t want to be here. Who could blame her? His quick temper was rising for her, as it often did for himself. She looked trapped, not even in a cell. The more he looked, the more he was drawn to her and her tiny rebellions.
It was the way she held herself, standing taller than everyone in the room, including Brandt. It was the wild hair falling out of her smooth Capital hair. It was her eyes that seemed to scorch anything they touched. She was pissed, and he didn’t know why, but he got the odd feeling the two of them might get along. Either that or battle to the death. It was hard to tell with some people.
Hilarian swallowed as she began to assess the inferior inmates, arms folded and lips downturned. He was somewhere in the middle, and when her mirror eyes reached him, his open his mouth as if to say something.
What’s a King to a God(dess)? ✘ Jared & Noel ✘ GM Meeting
It was an honour to have my father give me his ring. I knew it meant a lot to him. Although it didn’t quite fit on my middle finger, it’s perfectly wrapped around my thumb. Little did I know that my mother now had a bigger reason to incorporate me in her plans. All she needed was my father’s consent, and she has a king at her disposal.
Forced to endure my first duty as acting mayor, I sat on my father’s chair and listened to the woes of a crowd of troubled citizens. “The water supply is running low! Your dam is taking everything!” shouted one them. “Our crops are dying! The power plants are releasing too much fumes in the air!” another complained. Then each of them started to argue, believing their needs outweighs the others. I shook my head and sighed. Why the hell would my mother sign me up for this?
“Mayor Luminel demands order!” shouted Cyrus, but to no use.
My mother nudged me. She didn’t expect me to solve all of their problems, did she? Finally, I decided to speak. “Darlings, can I be honest with you?” They all stopped fighting and turned their attentions to me. “Your problems bore me.” I confessed with a roll of my eyes. Then with a snap of my fingers, our servants came and presented each of my problematic subjects with a stack of cash. “Money solves everything, so I hope these will be to your liking.”
They all knelt down before me. “All hail the king!” Each and every one of them cried with happiness. Almost as fast as they entered our home thinking their world was about to crumble, they all left with their problems fixed.
One thing was for sure, I did not have my mother’s approval. She didn’t seem to agree with what I did as she stomped out of the room. Then another woman entered, accompanied by peacekeepers. Shit, what did I do? “Can I help you, mam?” I asked politely. She was obviously an authority figure.
There is something calming about sharpening a blade. The whetstone sits heavy in my hand. Glides across my arm with little resistance, slowly, deliberately. Nobody bothers me. Remember when the workers would stand for making idle conversation with me. After the fighting, they left me alone. Don’t know if they’re worried about me or scared of me. Possibly both. Would investigate further, but would rather not know. Mother doesn’t like when I wear my arm. Think it reminds her of the past. Don’t usually wear it, anyway, only when sharpening. Need to take care of it. It’s part of me. Dislike upsetting her, though, so it’s usually kept out of sight. Quarry work is a hard life. Mother asked me to take a break for thirty minutes. So I sit on one of the taller rocks and sharpen.
Hear marching. Peacekeepers. Their footsteps are recognizable. Haven’t done anything wrong, so I know they’re not coming for me. Try to resist urge to look up, but my curiosity overrides efforts. Group of Peacekeepers, just as I thought. But somebody different is with them. A woman. Dark hair. Face of stone. Don’t recognize her. Aware that I’m staring, but can’t be bothered to care. Stare anyway. Continue sharpening.
meet your makers: pretty hurts // Blair and Clovis
I was in town with my little brother, Prescott, as the marketplace had its afternoon boom. He was settled on my shoulders while I shuffled through a crowd of sweaty, tired Nines.
The plains of the square were a little harder to navigate each day, as the shops seemed to change every morning. Today was just about dinner, which seemed to travel the least, but was also one of the most popular. Everyone seemed to head for the same few stands every time. The trip was elongated, because everyone seemed to be heading the opposing direction as Prescott and I. I couldn’t tell if everyone was leaving in a hurry, or was trying to get away from something, but as the curtains of dust opened, I realized it was a little bit of both.
My eyes settled on President Brandt and a blonde whose testing eyes were well paired with daggerlike eyebrows. Her glance swept through me like I was a weed.
Prescott was shifting above me, and I tilted my head up to see him waving cheekily. President Brandt gave a single wave in return, continuing to analyze the crowd his duo was drawing. The other woman had a gaze unblinking, and I wasn’t sure if she registered my brother. So I began to wave with him.
