Sirena Atlantica

Abel never praised the gamemakers for the arenas they produced, mainly because he felt it was extremely hypocritical, even if they weren’t responsible for the over all premise, but he had to admit, this one was pretty cool, even if he’d never say it aloud.

Sirena looked up from her phone and raised a brow. “Maybe. I mean, who knows the heck is gonna happen. ‘Specially now that Lysander’s dead.” She shrugged. “I mean he was the Head Gamemaker and all.” 

Rhea and Avenue made it. At least they made it. At least there was a chance of something good in the future, if only one of them could live. A co-mentor was a built-in friend, until that ended. She could use a friend, but in one’s absence, a bottle of wine would do. And then some. Lunch and dinner had gone by, and the only thing she found appetizing was a large bowl of ice cream, to counter the slight fever of drunkenness. “I’ve discovered something very sad,” she announced when she heard someone else enter the lounge where she was curled up on a plush chair. “There are some things ice cream cannot fix.”

Sirena entered the room, intent on peaking in on the games. She hadn’t kept up well, nor had she really gotten to know her tributes, the least she could do was check on the one tribute she had left. Her eyes flickered to Surya as the other spoke. “Now, I just don’t believe that.” She replied, eyes moving back to the screen. “Maybe you’ve just got the wrong kind.”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise that somebody wanted to go after Vultur and his team. Frankly, everyone should have seen it coming. Though, his death would do little to keep the Games from carrying on. In fact, it barely even stopped the launch from going on as scheduled. No, what worried Selene were the aftershocks. The attacks on the Capitol happened so long ago that people barely even discussed it. But, Selene remembered and the last thing she wanted was to be caught in the crossfire yet again. Whoever was behind the bombings with Lysander was clearly going after those involved with the Games. Naturally, the feeling that something might happen to Sirena worried Selene more than she could bear. As if she needed anymore worry lines.

Having gotten her caffeine fix and swallowed a few painkillers back, Sirena was finally becoming able to comprehend everything that had gone on that morning. Rain had died, not that Sirena had expected much from either of Four’s tributes. But more than the bloodbath casualties that she’d become accustomed to in the years since her own victory, Lysander had died for the whole nation to see. But yet, with the exception of a few screens broadcasting the updates, everything seemed to be going normally. Another voice had counted down, the tributes had still launched, the games were still televised on the majority of screens. 

Two years ago, he would have rather died than don an apron and be behind the counter in a service job like this. But he wasn’t the same person he was two years ago, and this morning, he felt an unexpected sense of pride– not shame– as he showed up for his first ever day of work. Real work, not a job where he paid off other people or begged the people he was still lucky to call friends to cover his ass. He was doing everything for himself now, no matter how much his feet ached and how many times he’d burned himself trying to learn to make lattes. And at the end of the day, he’d go home to an apartment with several roommates he paid his own rent for and bitch about it over a cheap beer. He was done with being a leech, and he wasn’t going to wait for Everett and Clem and everyone else to decide they were done with him first and leave him with nothing. “Welcome to Capitol Coffee, what can I get you?”

The morning was barely remembered, a hangover having made the possibility of climbing out of the comfort of bed seem like an impossibility. It was only half past noon, only a half hour past launch,  but the screens around the tower (where they’d normally all be broadcasting the games) were split between the games and the immediate coverage of the apparent explosion at Lysander’s press conference. So much was happening, and Sirena didn’t have the energy for it. So, in a last ditch effort to not return to bed, she found herself in line at Capitol Coffee in need of a double shot caramel macchiato. But when she got to the front of the line, eyes still cast on her phone having texted Selene to see if she wanted anything, she noted the voice that spoke certainly didn’t belong to the overly bubbly teenage girl who was usually there. She glanced up and had to repress a smirk, hiding a tinge of amusement.