The Comfort of a Guilded Cage

[ 🖐️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do their hands feel like: soft, calloused, trembling ? [ ☂️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they crave touch or fear it ? [ 🎐 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a sound, like a song or voice, that they associate with peace ? [ 🕊️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen did they feel the safest ? [ 💤 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they sleep ? curled up, sprawled, holding onto something ? [ 🦇 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a fear they never talk about ? [ 🔒 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a secret they’ve sworn never to tell ? [ 🪢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they broke a promise ? [ 🫳 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they feel they owe, but never paid back ? [ 💼 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do they always carry with them ? [ 🧨 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the quickest way to set them off, even if they hide it well ? [ ⛓️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does guilt feel like to them ? [ 💢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho have they never forgiven and never will ? [ 🩸 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there something or someone that, if lost, would break them ? [ 🌧️ ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a pain they refuse to heal from ? [ 🪞 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen have they looked at their reflection and hated what they saw ? [ 📿 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat superstition or ritual do they cling to ? [ 🌊 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they cried ? [ 🐾 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo animals like them instinctively ? [ 🪶 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they laugh ? [ 🫀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho taught them what love is ? did it hurt ? [ 💭 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they believe they’re worthy of being loved ? [ 🎀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is their main love language ? [ 🔦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they search for ? [ 📜 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a story they love sharing with others ? [ 🌒 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a dream or goal they have given up on ? [ 🕯️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat memory do they replay when they’re alone ? [ 🌪️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the one choice they regret (not) making ? [ 🧩 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s a truth about themselves they refuse to admit ? [ 🍻 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of drunk are they ? [ ✉️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of letter would they write but never send ? [ 🗡️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a scar that they have but never talk about ? [ 🕸️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a favourite lie they like to hear ? [ 🪦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat would they want on their gravestone but never admit aloud ? [ 🎱 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of future do they crave, and who’s in it ? [ 🌀 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a recurring dream or nightmare ? [ 🍃 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they feel like they belong ? [ ⚓ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does “home” mean to them ? [ 🧭 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhere would they go if they could disappear tomorrow ?

Somewhere in her mind, she remembers her own games. The tribute from her own district who was twelve years old... who'd asked to hold her hand in the training area, who'd sat on her bunk and asked if she'd protect him... the tribute she'd abandoned the moment she realized that survival would mean she had to leave him behind to die at the hands of a career and disappear as she heard the confusion of bloodbath behind her. Wiress wasn't sure what that said about her, even now...

"Thank you," The boy says softly. Wiress may be a little odd, but he gets the sense that she's trying her best, as good as anyone can when forced into this situation, especially when you come from somewhere like District 3. They're not like the careers, no guarantee of sponsors or attention, but perhaps to fly under the radar may not be such a bad thing.

The victor nods sharply. She reaches for another piece of bread on the table and hums something to herself about district breads... and then she speaks almost distracted, "You should share some bread during training... it's a matter of survival for many... a form of alliance for those who know it as fellowship." she tilts her head as she looks over the small loaf in her hand, "This is from four. Fermented yeast holds up better in the environment. Its a bit more chewy... I once shared a loaf with my co-mentor my first year..."

She smiles softly... for a second, her expression softens, "I know you will... that's why we trust you, Fila." With that, Wiress turns to leave... as she steps out into the victors village, she feels her hands start to shake. Not the usual shaking form the neurological damage in her body, but her body almost reminding her that it was human... she felt fear, deepset fear that made her heart hurt... But she also knew better than to show it as she opened the door to her co-conspirator's home. They had a lot of work to do.

So the boy threw himself into his new tasks, kept his head down, avoided drawing any attention as best he could, followed each instruction to the letter. There was a lot to process, a lot to take in, but he was managing it, bit by bit. And soon enough the day of the reaping came around, and even though Fila already knew the outcome, he couldn't help but feel nausea stir in his stomach as he was escorted out of his home in the victor's village.

On the day of the reaping, Wiress's eyes darted around as she looked at the sea of faces as they were marched from the victor village to the reaping by peacekeepers. Her grey-blue eyes stared forwards as they climbed the stage... She knew how this would go. The Capitol had wanted her and Beetee dead. They'd always wanted them dead. Rebellion was brewing in the districts, the girl on fire had given the districts hope of actually being able to overthrow the Capitol's power... so they'd want them dead. Killed by the arena they'd help build... Her name is called first. Wiress knows it will be. There is only one name in that bowl. "Fila Thomson" The name make the two older victors of District 3 visibly tense. Beetee puts his arm in front of the boy before he can even step towards the reaping stage, "I volunteer as tribute." his tone is calm, it's usual flat nature that he kept in public.

The words ring in Wiress's ear and for a second her mind fails to catch up. She refuses to believe that the Capitol wouldn't rig the quell... they wouldn't make sure that they weren't the ones being tossed into the arenas to finally be made examples of... then her mind clears, and for the first time on camera in 25 years, the older woman's eyes are terrifyingly lucid as her hand shoots up, her voice far from soft or shaky when she speaks clear enough to catch the attention of others, "I volunteer as tribute."

“what was that?” she demands.

It takes a few moments before she speaks, simple and plain in her tone, as if not understanding the confusion, "I volunteered. The Capitol would much rather watch it's greatest failure of a victor die. Better for optics." she tilts her head, and something so strangely intense takes over her expression, eyes clear and focused, "And the Capitol would much rather I die than you."

Wiress's arms linger for a few more moments before she lets go. She steps back a few steps, her eyes looked at him... despite his age, somehow she'd still see the little boy they'd guided through the victory tour... a memory that often mixed with the tiny tribute from the 50th games... "Focus on keeping Beetee alive. If it works, he'll be the one to do it. Do that for me, please." she finally says, her breath shaking a little as she does. "And be safe... please."

"I'll do my best," the fifteen year old says softly, biting down hard on his lower lip and swallowing past the lump in his throat. He doesn't like this, doesn't like how it feels far too much like a goodbye despite the fact that they still have time. Time though that may be running out.

She smiles softly... for a second, her expression softens, "I know you will... that's why we trust you, Fila." With that, Wiress turns to leave... as she steps out into the victors village, she feels her hands start to shake. Not the usual shaking form the neurological damage in her body, but her body almost reminding her that it was human... she felt fear, deepset fear that made her heart hurt... But she also knew better than to show it as she opened the door to her co-conspirator's home. They had a lot of work to do.

At first, her body goes rigid. It almost always does at contact... and for a second she stands there. She then wraps her arms around him in return. She's silent for a few moments, the emotion breaking through is evident as her breath shakes... She's always been aware of her own role, as much as Beetee was hopeful of the fact that they'd both survive the arena, she'd always figured that she might not live to see it all work... and part of her had accepted that. But right now? She hopes his hopes are true. "I promise..." she whispers through her own shaking breath, "we won't fail you."

Wiress stiffens, and for a moment Fila feels he should let go, that he's overstepped her boundaries. But then she's wrapping her arms around him in return, and he lets himself melt into the hug, feeling every inch the child he is. It's been nearly two years since his own games, and yet the pressure now feels even more intense than that did. Then again, back then, the only responsibility had been to himself, the desire to live and not to die. Now though...now the responsibility has widened. Anything he does could help or jeopardise his mentors, and furthermore the entirety of Panem. It is no small task, certainly not for a fifteen year old, but what choice does he have? There's no way he could walk way, not now. He could never forgive himself if he did. Wiress' words reach his ears, and he gives her the gentlest squeeze, "I won't fail you either. I promise."

Wiress's arms linger for a few more moments before she lets go. She steps back a few steps, her eyes looked at him... despite his age, somehow she'd still see the little boy they'd guided through the victory tour... a memory that often mixed with the tiny tribute from the 50th games... "Focus on keeping Beetee alive. If it works, he'll be the one to do it. Do that for me, please." she finally says, her breath shaking a little as she does. "And be safe... please."