#clovis costello

[acapitolpunishment-blog]

After the slaughter that was the third day of the arena, faces and slips of death play in the stormy skies with the daunting anthem echoing around the arena.

13th - Clovis Costello, killed by Juno Woon.

12th - Ignacius Kauri, killed by Hilarian Delacroix.

11th - Juno Woon, killed by Hilarian Delacroix.

10th - Kendall Carter, killed by Lola Liu.

[acapitolpunishment-blog]

Lars woke with a start. Clovis had gently placed two silver canisters on his chest, but the boy from Nine was also singing, which almost immediately triggered the morning person in Lars.

“Can you–”

“We gotta go,” Clovis cut him off, grabbing his own things without looking at the other boy. Lars scrunched his eyebrows, but rolled into his feet anyway. They gathered their things and weapons wordlessly, leaving only Lar’s pickaxe and Clovis’s darts out in hand. When Clovis had finished stuffing the last of his tattered sleeping bag into one of the empty parachute packs, he began to scoot backwards towards the entrance of the cave.

“What are those?” Lars asked pointing at his hand.

“Er.” Clovis paused. “Matches and antiseptic. Here, take it.” He tossed them in Lars’s direction. “It’s the little things that’ll save you the most, you know.”

Lars accepted five matches and the metal tube, inspecting them before tucking them into the torn cloth at his waist. “Why are we leaving so early?” Lars’s voice wasn’t pleasant, but Clovis shook it off. Neglecting to answer the boy, he found out for himself as they scaled the cliff to see a swarm of lurking butterflies and onlooking ants. No words were exchanged.

Ignacius and Juno awoke with a start, and, upon instinct, grabbed all of their supplies in a hurry and got to their feet, running as the lava corralled them into another section of the hellish island. And, lo and behold, Clovis and Lars stood in front of them, catching their breath. They must have had to run even farther than they did. And that’s when it clicked for the pair: the gamemakers didn’t want any more animal deaths -- they wanted human ones.

The four tributes locked eyes, all coming to the realization of the reason behind why they were now standing in this haphazard square. They quickly readied themselves, knowing that blood was to be shed. Ignacius quickly dropped the deersigner bags of meat far behind him, as well as the pelt, and tightened his grip on the double-sided axe, whilst making sure that the other weapons on him were still easily accessible on his person.

Juno followed suit, leaving only things on her person that could be used as weapons. She grabbed some of the berries, crushing them onto the blade of her dagger and the bolts that she had and kept her eyes peeled on the two boys in front of her. A part of Juno wanted to just make a break for it and hope they weren’t stupid enough to chase her, but the chances of the game makers just letting her run away from this fight scot-free were close to none. So for now, she was going to have to stay and fight.

Cycling through the different options of how to take on the duo, Ignacius watched the two boys glance over him with their eyes, a mildly confused look on their faces. Then he remembered that he looked like a demon that had just crawled out of Mount Doom over there. A smile danced across his face, one that promised pain would be behind it. Juno tensed up, a grim look entering her face as well, as she thought about her tiny chance of actually leaving this fight alive.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Lars said, staring down the opposing pair. She stopped before Ignacius did, pulling him back before he continued forward.

“No, it’s alright.” Ignacius stepped forward. He began to speak, to say something else, but Lars interrupted.

“Shut the fuck up.” It was harsh and cold sounding. Clovis sent him a look but understood. They had to kill, and the more unattached they were, the easier this would be.

“Don’t you get it? It’s kill or be killed here. Stop acting like there’s a way out.”

“Oh, I get it alright.”

Ignacius pursed his lips but something in Juno’s eyes lit up at the boys’ chattery, and she bumped her partner’s arm. Lars thought he heard her say something, but couldn’t make it out before she raised her crossbow. Getting a steady aim Juno fired off a berry-coated bolt from her crossbow, aiming for Clovis’s heart, while Clovis quickly sent a blow dart towards Ignacius’s neck.

Both projectiles missed their intended mark, but still found a target, with the bolt landing in Clovis’s thigh, and the blow dart landing on the sight of Ignacius’s “old” leg injury. Ignacius pulled out the dart, watching a small spurt of blood that had erupted from his leg. Juno took this opportunity to shoot another bolt towards Clovis, hitting him where his spleen should be.

Ignacius ran into action, and before Clovis could fire another one of his pesky darts, he was on top of the boy from Nine. The impact left Clovis with starry vision, but he managed to dodge the first of Ignacius’s punches. Even so, he launched his own fist up into the boy’s nose, and was graced with a surprising, sickening crack.

The punch caused Ignacius’s vision to blank out for a few seconds, and in that time, Clovis got on top of him, and started pummeling his fists against Ignacius’s face, causing the boy to become almost unrecognizable under the dried black blood of the day before and the fresh crimson coming from the wounds on his face. As soon as his vision came back, Ignacius kneed Clovis in the chest, and shoved him off of his body, rolling to the side and standing up, grabbing his axe again. As Clovis scrambled to his feet, Ignacius glanced to his left in his disorientation, and took in the scuffle that was occurring between Juno and Lars.

Juno had managed to put her crossbow away, her poison working its way through her victims. Lars spun in place as Juno nearly slammed into him, swiping his pickaxe out and hooking over Juno’s shoulder, the end slicing into the joint of her armpit. She cried out as Lars dragged her backward, but fell to one leg as her knife, laced in the deadly poison, cut through the tendons in his calf. Bullseye.

Ignacius snapped back to reality, but when he turned to the boy from Nine, he was met with a face full of thrown grapes. They smacked against his chest, which hardly deterred him, but still made him pause.

“Ah, those. Were probably rotten.” Clovis’s mouth pinched up around his blowgun, and he hardly noticed Ignacius had made his way to close the distance again until his axe scraped his throat. Clovis gasped, flailing out an arm to wrap around the boy’s neck. His other elbow forced Ignacius’s axe arm down and pulled his face to his chest. Ignacius made a small choking noise as Clovis drove the end of a dart into the base of his skull. It wasn’t enough to kill, but no doubt it’d hurt like a bitch. He kept shoving the needle forth until a scream erupted from his throat as Ignacius flung his axe up Clovis’s back, opening a large gash near his shoulder blade and dragging downwards.

Meanwhile, Lars took Juno with him to the ground in his fall. He grinded his pickaxe further into her shoulder while she sunk her blade deeper in his leg. He hissed at the pain and struggled, but found himself stuck below her as she straddled him and twisted the blade, shaking his weapon out of her skin.

One of her hands found the wrist of his axe hand and pressed it hard to the ground. Lars moved with instinct. He yanked his head up and clasped his teeth around her ear, tugging as hard as he could. Juno screamed, pulling back, and giving him the opening to finish his work. Lars sunk his pickaxe back into place under her armpit, and she jerked away. A mistake. Her left shoulder was suddenly torn apart, blood pouring out to the clay beneath them.

Juno was still hollering out, using her weight to shove Lars on his back and get to her feet. Her right arm still held a dagger, and she sent the knife downwards, straight into Lars’s side. He screamed in pain, his vision blurring for a moment as he tried to slide himself out from between her legs. He rolled forward as he did so, the razor wings from his backpack slicing her thighs and making her trip.

Clovis still had Ignacius in an arm-locking embrace as the other boy continued to send his axe as far as he could manage into his back and then back down to thud in Clovis’s shin. He succumbed to the pain for a moment before inhaling sharply. When minimal air filtered through the blowgun, it hit him that he still had a dart sitting inside.

He shoved the boy from Seven away from him, and then brought him back in to smash their mouths together, sending the blowgun down Ignacius’s throat. He choked and sputtered against Clovis’s lips as Nine blew the dart down the dart down his throat.

Ignacius collapsed, as did Clovis a few meters away from the boy. Trying to recover from the harsh wounds that left him in roaring pain, he struggled to think. Clovis, looking at the cracked ground around them, pulled out some of the pocketed left-over matches. Lighting one up, he dropped it among some of the dead grass, watching as the fire spread, creating a small wall of fire that prevented them from going any farther inward. The small ring of death around them ensured no one was simply running away from this fight.

Back on the ground, Lars had climbed on top of Juno, smashing her head into the dirt repeatedly as her skull thudded dully. Her screams rang out, trying feebly to get away from the boy. She stabbed her dagger into whatever open skin she could find and struggled beneath him. Clovis approached them and thought fast, ripping One out from under Lars by her pearl necklace, leaving Juno’s dagger behind. Lars’s foot kicked out in reflex, landing in Clovis’s priorly mutilated shin and forcing the other boy to the ground. He cried out, releasing Juno, who immediately made a run for her crossbow.

“What the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry!”

Despite her injuries, she picked it up with ease, firing randomly at the boys. The arrow spliced through Clovis’s palm, and his cry of pain stung in her bitten ear. Lars dodged an arrow and wrapped his pickaxe around her flank, creating the animation of a Vaudeville cane and dragging her towards him, slashing her torso and dropping her to the ground.

The air audibly escaped her lungs as her crossbow shook in her bloody hands. Her eyes were bloodshot, mouth opening to scream when Clovis crawled forward on his knees to put the feisty girl out of her misery, his blade so close to her throat. But Juno had other plans, as did Ignacius.

Ignacius seemed to leap at them from the sky, sending a deer antler through Lars’s right thigh so hard it was jerked out of his hand on the return. Lars cried out, wincing in agony for a moment as Ignacius struggled to stand back up, ready with his axe. Clovis splayed his legs out, wrapping them around Seven’s ankles and pulling forward, sending him to the clay.

Juno, with the boys distracted, recovered from her profusely bleeding torso and decided to have some fun of her own with Clovis. The bolts that had found their home in Clovis had sent the poison throughout his system and he was just beginning to feel the effects, his knife shaky in his fingers. With the poison running through his system, it was all that Clovis could do to shuffle around a punch Juno threw. Hell, he even tried to blow a few darts, but she shook her head and grinned.

Due to his sluggish pace, Juno was able to easily dodge the darts, and only one found their home in her backpack as she quickly turned her back to avoid being caught by the dart. Whilst she was dodging the darts she was recoating the dagger with the deadly berry juice, and upon reaching Clovis, stabbed him near the heart. Mind, not through it, because she wanted to watch him suffer.

She watched him wince in glee, and she retracted the dagger, before plunging it into him three more times, creating a box shape around his heart. He feebly managed to get a swipe in at Juno’s ankles with his hunting knife. She ignored the tiny cuts as she watched him lie on the ground, the nightlock having, admittedly, done most of the work for her. Nevertheless, she’d survived, and then she stepped onto his chest and jumped a few times for extra measure. Hearing him scream underneath her, with blood shooting up like a fountain, while she winced in pain due to her side wound. Soon, Clovis’s body went limp, a cannon sounding in the sky.

Simultaneously, Ignacius took a deep breath, spit out a bloody dart and turned on Lars. They were both wounded, but Lars more so, dripping blood from his legs and sides, and gasping for air. He wanted to run to Clovis who had just been sparring with Juno --

Was that a cannon he heard?

--But Ignacius blocked his way, advancing slowly.

It couldn’t be a cannon.

Lars made it to his feet and narrowly avoided the swing of Ignacius’s axe, running on pure adrenaline now. He jumped back, remaining upwards, and made a move himself, but it was weak and ill-calculated. Ignacius easily jumped away and laughed.

Maybe it was just Juno’s.

“Don’t you get it? It’s kill or be killed here.” The boy from Seven said, limping towards him. His blade made contact with his hip, clanging against something. Something lit up in Lars’s head. Something crazy, pain-driven, but something that might work.

Lars ran. He felt like a coward, Ignacius voiced as much, and every step away from his injured friend stretched him. His legs pumped until he fell to his knees, scrambling for the antiseptic and matches Clovis had given him when they woke up. It’s the little things that can save the most, you know.

His shaking fingers got the cap off and the stinging alcohol poured into his mouth, the rest spilling on the ground. He had one chance at this. Lars’s mouth felt like boiling pot. He turned around just in time to catch Ignacius’s axe with the handle of his pick.

Lars groaned in agony as Ignacius pressed downward, having both an uphill advantage and a strange smile. “Kill or be killed…” he repeated. His gleaming blade crushed through the thick air, closer and closer to Lars’s face. He panicked and spit the contents of his mouth into Ignacius’s eyes and nose.

The dripping liquid only slightly irritated him and he didn’t release Lars from his pressure.

It took any and all of the strength Lars had left, but he let one hand fall away from his pickaxe. His arm screamed with the doubled weight, and the cut on his palm reopened, folding around the handle til it was slick with red. His other hand trembled in his pocket to a match. …Nothing to strike it on.

Despair descended, and he could feel Ignacius’s breath on his face. Through his blood soaked vision, something came into view. An engraving of a butterfly. Just as Ignacius was about to make that last fatal push, Lars slid the match across the wings. It sparked into a small flame and the other boy drew back slightly.

“Sorry, Ig.” Lars said, and flicked the match into his face.

The effect was immediate. Ignacius’s eyes burst into a translucent purple flames, centering on his cheekbones and flaring outwards. He dropped his weapon and collapsed to his knees. And then the screaming. It curdled Lar’s blood and made him want to cry out with him.

“Clovis.” Lars said hoarsely, frozen, transfixed by the boy with the melting eyes. He couldn’t move.

But Clovis didn’t answer.

Hearing the screeching, Lars snapped out of his daze. He wasted no time throwing his pack to the ground and pulling out his tattered sleeping bag. Lars wrapped Ignacius’s torched head tightly in the cloth and slammed it down into a rock with a crack. His scream trembled down to a twitching gurgle, and then to silence.

“Die. Just, die.” Lars stuttered out, emotion overcoming him, but not in the form of tears. A cannon answered his words.

And then Juno did.

With the blunt of her knife, she tried to stab Lars from behind, but he saw her shadow before she could strike. The girl was smart, yes, but that wasn’t going to help her now. In his silent fury, he twisted the girl’s snake-like wrist, cracking it completely, and taking the knife that she had just held and killed Clovis with.

No. She didn’t. She couldn’t have.

Without wasting a moment, without saying anything more, he shoved the knife coated in her own sick poison and plunged it straight through her chest. Her heart pierced, blood gushed out of the already-slashed through chest. Blood rose, coating her teeth, dribbling down her chin. This time, it was her cannon that sounded.

Lars let his body fall backwards, limp to the ground, rolling his head to find Clovis’s limp body. So it was true. He was dead. Clovis’s glassy eyes stared up at the artificial moon, and Lars dragged his own gaze away, swallowing hard.

“Lost boys for life.” Lars muttered, as the fire around him crackled, and eventually died out.

[acapitolpunishment-blog]

After your tussle with the rather rude shrubbery, Clovis finds a small package floating down to greet him. Inside this parachute is a syringe of a universal antidote, with no attached note.

[acapitolpunishment-blog]

Clovis, as he settles down for the night, finds a sponsor gift coming for him. Inside is a loaf of bread, a vial of iodine and a sleeping bag. There is a note.

"I know what to do, sure, but do you? -Penny"

[acapitolpunishment-blog]

Clovis, Seraph, Hilarian, Ratsis, Parker, Kyla, Nico, Tillie

As twenty-four bodies rose into the arena, twenty-four pairs of eyes took in as much of their surroundings as they could. Twenty-four pairs of legs also shifted about on their platforms, some due to stress and nerves, other due to pure excitement and bloodlust. As the waves of brightly colored purple water lapped at the feet of the tributes, they soon realized that this wasn’t going to be as easy of a task as they originally thought. Then again, how could a fight-to-the-death against twenty-three other teenagers be easy? Eyes flickered about, prayers were sent to the gods up above and beads of sweat dripped from the chins of even the mightiest of foes. Here, in the Hunger Games, no one was safe.

Now, these tributes, and, specifically, the entirety of Panem, was about to learn what would happen if you opposed the Capitol.

Clovis’s heart was throbbing in his throat. The neck on his jumpsuit was borderline too tight. He was so entranced by his surroundings that he didn’t notice the water lapping at his toes until it began to… Burn? The water was purple. Crystals jutted out in every direction around him, and the sand about 4 feet in front of him was alabaster. An ambient clock rang out in his ears with a crack – 41, 40, 39…

Clovis’s eyes landed on a fuchsia backpack at the base of a mound of rocks, and about 15 feet from that was what looked like a blowgun sticking up from the sand. Clovis turned on his heel to see the other tri– this was his advantage. Game on.

He had a plan. Get his supplies and get out, don’t waste time on the other tributes for now. Worry about yourself. So, he perched down on his pedestal, posing to make a leap for the sand and avoid the acidic water. 18, 17, 16…

He kept his eyes sharp on the backpack until a buzzing pierced his ears. Clovis leaped forward. His shoulder connected with the sand, but the impact was minimal. He bounced up again and made long strides for the purple backpack, failing to check its contents before he whipped it around his shoulder and skidded another direction. He made a mad dash for the blowgun and was pleasantly surprised when 6 darts were placed neatly next to it. He collard them, meaning to turn and make a dash for the northwest when Nico filled his vision.

Surprise overtook him as the boy tried to jump him, but Clovis was too agile. He ducked, sliding under the boy pulling him down by his shoe. Nico landed on his stomach, grunting uncomfortably, and Clovis took the opportunity to level his shoulder with the sand by way of his foot. He gripped his jaw in his hand and twisted until he heard a sickening pop. Looking up, the boy from Nine saw that while he was one of the few on the small beach-like island right now, that was soon about to change. Taking his items, Clovis sprinted to the water and swam as fast as he could out to the North exit.

Already closing in on the island’s shore, Seraph understood what the gamemakers had meant when they said she and the two other boys would get an advantage for their high training scores. The head-start gave her an easy chance to grab the pink backpack a few feet in front of her. To her left, she saw her weapon of choice waiting for her. Her hand grabbed the machete by the hilt just before another girl could take it. She turned her back from the girl.

Then she felt a tug on her backpack. It seemed like an effort to yank her back, but the assailant’s strength wasn’t enough to even bring Seraph’s towering figure back an inch. Seraph whipped around to see Tillie, the girl who had tried to grab the machete, with a firm grasp on Seraph’s backpack and a determined willpower on her face. If she’d tried to get the backpack earlier, sure, that would be fine. But this backpack was Seraph’s now. Tillie was trying to steal it after Seraph had rightfully taken it. And that… that was just disrespectful.

Seraph raised her machete and swiftly brought it down on Tillie’s wrist, severing her hand from her arm and thus, Seraph’s backpack. Warm blood sprayed from the wound, small pinpricks getting on Seraph’s uniform. The girl was screaming, suffering horribly, and though her stunt had annoyed Seraph, she didn’t deserve an agonizing death. With a strong horizontal arc, Seraph swung her machete again and lopped off the girl’s head, her cannon sounding as her head was completely severed from the rest of her body. Quick and virtually painless. Seraph tucked her machete into the rope around her waist, then retrieved the rope from Tillie’s corpse. As an afterthought, she wiped the blood from her face with the back of her hand.

Lars isn’t ready when the countdown ends, but he tries to run on his survival instinct and not think too much about the outcome of all of this. He dives right in and starts swimming. Just because he’s shaken doesn’t mean others are. He starts slow, but then gets moving as the burning begins to scald his hands. His breaststroke is sloppy but effective, avoiding the rocks and propelling him to shore.

He steps onto the sand, shaking water out of his face and tries to take everything in. Seraph and Clovis have already made it, but don’t seem to be coming for him. To his left, Lars sees the gleam of an axe and begins running.

All the other tributes are nearing the island when the handle of the axe is firmly in his hands. Seraph is close to him, but doesn’t seem to paying him any attention. What next, what, what? Lars’s mind goes blank until he spots a pink backpack. Who knows what’s in it, but it has to be better than nothing. He’s just about to reach for the backpack when he sees Seraph and Tillie beginning to fight for it. Not wanting to be involved in this fight, Lars, with disappointment present in his eyes, turns away from the pink backpack and continues on his way.

From the corner of his eye, Lars sees other tributes coming his way. Run. Now. He’s holding every thing he can and that’s already weighing me down, so he turns and sprints away before death finds him sooner rather than later. As fast as his legs can take him, Lars makes his way to the North exit.

He knew from day one that as soon as the tributes entered the arena, swimming would be required. After an initial surprise, Parker suppresses a smile and was thankful for all the extra work he put into learning how to swim. He prepares himself for his jump as he listened to the countdown.

Three.

He was ready.

Two.

No doubt in his mind.

One.

Bring it on.

Parker takes in a deep breath just before he dives into the bright, purple abyss and begins his freestyle stroke.  The current was challenging and the water began to eat at his flesh, yet Parker took it as a stronger motivation to get out as quickly as possible. Given the color and the stinging sensation of the water, Parker assumed that the glowing rock structures were not safe as well and avoided them completely. For the most part, he limited the amount of breaths he took in, only inhaling when he absolutely used all the oxygen in his body.

Upon making contact with the shore, Parker wipes his eyes and looks around. With Kyla on his right and Apricot on his left, Parker continues to keep running straight, avoiding any possible contact with the two ladies. Parker immediately lays his eyes onto the bullwhip. He was familiar with whips when he was back in District 10, and not to mention he used a makeshift whip during his private training. It was his best bet, so Parker makes a beeline towards the whip. Parker successfully gets his hands on the bullwhip with trembling hands. This was good. Very good.

Ratsis rose on his platform and immediately began to take in his surroundings. Now more than ever was he thankful for stopping by the pool and learning how to swim, noting the obstacles piercing the water’s surface and the current moving over his feet. He glanced at those around him, not batting an eye about being this close to Pearl and was only beginning to scope out the supplies in front of him when his feet began to burn. Knowing he still had to wait a grueling 60 seconds, he began rocking back and forth on his heels, the movement helping to alleviate the sting slightly and at the same time building his momentum. He knew a sacrifice was going to be made by plunging into the burning water, the least he could do was try and make it as quick as possible.

As the gong sounded Ratsis launched himself forward, gritting his teeth as the acid-water stung his flesh. It didn’t slow him in the slightest as he began swimming forward, his adrenaline working in his favor and unlike those surrounding him he found another ally right in his path. He swam towards one of the large rocks and grabbed hold, using his hands to now pull himself around the stone until he was in front of it and kicked off, projecting himself further along and against the current.

Once on land he sprinted forward and seized the hilt of a sword in the sand, his momentum guiding him forward as he went to snatch up the pink backpack, but found that it had already been snatched by Seraph. In her wake, she had left the body of Tillie, the girl from Four. Looking at her decapitated head for a brief moment, he turned around, not wanting to dwell on the sight any longer.

As he turned he saw Kyla charging towards him with venom pouring from her eyes. Of all the people she had met in the Capitol he alone burned a hole in her like no other, remembering all too well their time together at the gymnastics station and how much of a judgmental dick he was. Ratsis wasn’t overly fond of her either and willing charge to meet her.

Kyla used her agility and attempted her signature round off back-hand-spring back tuck to disorient the boy only to fumble beneath the loose sand, sending her to the ground. Ratsis was on her immediately, “Flip on this, bitch.” he spat as he plunged the sword into her chest. He retracted his blade and quickly unfastened the rope tied around her waist and secured it to his own, she wouldn’t need it any longer. Once a thief always a thief.

Dodging past another fight he slipped the sword between the rope on his waist to prevent it from straying as he ran back into the water, the current forcing him south-east against the acid’s sting until he reached shore and continued over the bridge into the Arena.

Parker sighed out of relief as he watched the boy from Eight flee in the opposite direction. He had just barely managed to avoid that fight, and, since he was likely to be injured in some way, he was glad that he did. Gripping his bullwhip, Parker sprinted towards the water, ready to leave the bloodbath. As he dives into the water, his oxygen levels were straining, and he begins to have a hard time swimming properly. He manages to make it to land much later than the other tributes who crossed the bridge. Parker climbs out of the water, coughing violently. This asthma attack wasn’t as bad as some were in his childhood, but Parker knew that it would only become worse if he continued to run. He notices that most tributes were gone already, so he begins to walk across the bridge. After crossing through the dense fog and shaky bridge, Parker’s throat was not as painful as it was when he was swimming back. He assumed it was the water in the air and starts to jog south-west.

[ignaciuskauri-blog-blog]

The Afterparty // Ignacius Kauri and Clovis Costello

It had been a blur after the parade. After saying goodnight to Emily, Ignacius was swept away by Marcus. They had talked before the parade about how important it was that he made it to the afterparty early, and with an interesting outfit that would stand out without making it seem that he was trying too hard. They had settled on a suit that was similar to the one he wore on the train. It was a polished evergreen with a black shirt underneath. Marcus had somehow managed to find the shoes that Ignacius had worn to the reaping, and he was glad that he could have those to wear instead of the stiff and high-heeled Capitol shoes. He again transferred the bullet between outfits. It was his lucky charm for the night. He would have to impress the Capitolites tonight and attempt to get to know some of the other tributes. On top of that, he would have to avoid making any enemies, especially when it came to the Gamemakers and the President.

The ride over to the large mansion where the party was taking place was a whirlwind, with Marcus perfecting every single inch of his appearance. By the time that he had made it to the party, he looked more like a doll than a human being. He thanked everyone in the car for their services, and then exited onto the premises.

To say that the party was overdone was an understatement. Food was pouring out of the walls, music was blaring from some unknown location, and the Capitolites were everywhere. Games were being played and conversations were being held less than ten feet away from each other, living on separate planets. 

Although Ignacius felt overwhelmed by this new situation, he kept the smile on his face and made pleasant small talk with people all throughout his walk from the entrance of the massive building, to the dance room full of drunk adults, and through the hallway leading to the outside patio, which was right next to a large garden full of plants that he had never seen before. It was a weird concept to process for him, that hundreds of people knew his name and wanted to know every detail about him. He had lived in isolation so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to talk to people more than one a day. Although everyone in the Capitol was rich, it felt like the people here were at the top of the ladder, exerting a little more sophistication and grandeur. And even though he hadn’t seen them, Ignacius knew that both of the Gamemakers and the President were lurking about somewhere.

He kept his perfect shell up at all times, for he didn’t know who could be watching him. After all, who knew how many of the other tributes could be at this party, trying to sniff out their competition  and figure out who would be the easiest to kill first. He had recognized several of the tributes throughout his trek through the mansion, but hadn’t bothered to stop of talk to any of them. It was only know, when he saw the boy with the chestnut hair from District 9 standing right in front of them that he decided it might be a good idea to get to know someone that wasn’t his district partner. He cleared up his throat and started a conversation.

“Hey, you’re Clovis Costello, right? I’m Ignacius Kauri from District Seven.”

“Oh, I remember you. You’re iguana boy.”

Ignacius kept the smile on his face and remembered his long record of peaceful conversations from the past. He really hoped that there wouldn’t be any antagonistic feelings between him and this tribute going into the games. He seemed like a pretty nice guy.