rose tinted

–

Neither of them could know what Riggs feels currently, or what they’re going through. But both of them have an insurmountable amount of care for them, Riggs means a great deal to the both of them, even if it’s in different ways.

“I don’t either.” She confirms.

Virgo decides to make Aldera pinky promise, something she hasn’t done in years, that they’ll both do what they can to take care of Riggs, and make sure he doesn’t do something he’ll come to regret, or something careless. They decide to leave their conversation at that, being empowered over their mutual admiration for their close friend.

• • •

IT WASN’T THE pressure. Robyn had assumed, and they had assumed incorrectly, had missed the mark entirely. Virgo had seen this, had smiled almost sadly in fact, as if it could’ve been that, as if Robyn’s guess had been a good one, a valiant effort, but it just couldn’t quite hit the spot. They remember how the news had come to them. The day the trains moved again, lurching forward without warning and surprising each and every one inside it in all their varying states of languishment, the intercom had clicked on with Snow’s voice, clear as day and no less frightening, crackling through from the other side. The rebels had been eradicated, and the trains were finally ready to take them all back to the Capitol; unfortunately, in the scuffle ( a fabrication — absolutely nothing of the sort could have happened ), Tiberius Farlock had died, presumably from “defending the train from the rebels.” Robyn had wagered not a lot of people had bought it, but they didn’t speak of it to anyone. Sudden death outside of the Games isn’t a topic you want to bring up so easily. 

As soon as Virgo finishes speaking, Robyn’s first instinct is to shush them, to step forward, but nothing happens. Their mouth opens, and no sound comes out, their body dares lean forward, and does nothing more. Their breathing quickens before they notice it, and once they do, the rest of their body follows suit: palms sweating, throat seizing, heart palpitating, a ringing in their ears, and they shake their head. They’re no fool, they know what that means, what Virgo’s trying to tell them, but they refuse to believe it. How could they possibly? None of it is making sense to Robyn, none of it is connecting. They’re trying to grasp for memories of Tiberius, a terrible person overall, someone they’d tried their best to avoid personally, despite his ties with Diose, and they’re trying to find the thread, the line he could have crossed that pushed Virgo, a child raised in the Capitol, to do something they’d likely only ever seen on television…

Robyn shakes their head again. “You’re… You can’t be serious,” they say, voice firm, insistent, as if this couldn’t be exactly what they think it is. “You can’t possibly be serious.” They need to get out of here, now. “I’m — I’m leaving, Virgo, I’ve had enough of this. I don’t know what it is I’ve done to deserve any of this from you, but I…” They’ve lost their eloquence, panic coming in to replace it instead. It takes all the strength they have in them to push their legs forward.

“This… this conversation is over.”

.

Virgo nods. They don’t know how to make themselves clearer, a sick feeling in the pit of their stomach says Robyn must know this isn’t a joke. They have to or it’s--it’s all for nothing. The risk. Robyn turns it into an accusation, as if they think Virgo so cruel as to spin such a dangerous lie to salt an open wound. What good would that do? No more, they’d wager, than a fumbled attempt at apology that leaves them grasping so desperately for anything but the truth. 

“If something happens, you have to fight back.” They never meant to be a cautionary tale, nor do they think they make a particularly good one. Clutching at straws, searching for the meaning in any of this, it’s sheer luck they’ve made it this far. They aren’t disposable. None of them. They don’t have to take this. “You’re allowed to fight back.” With that, Virgo turns. They’ve said their piece and know that to look at Robyn a moment longer would likely provoke them into desperation. They think, perhaps, they’ll stay up here a while. They’ve a lot to figure out. 

…

Had someone told he that she’d be having this kind of conversation with Virgo, Blythe wouldn’t have believed them. They’ve grown close in the last few weeks, that can’t be denied, but never once did it occur to Blythe that they’d actually discuss deep shit given Virgo’s keenness on avoiding Blythe’s questions and Blythe’s own reluctance when it comes to being forthright about his particular subject. Her track record so far proves she has no issue being honest with Virgo, but that was because she never thought that Virgo would ever ask her if they could be partners. 

Blythe freeze’s in place when Virgo moves, her arms remaining by her sides until it clicks that she is supposed to return the embrace. Arms are wrapped around Virgo’s waist, helping them close the distance between the two of them. She gets to look down at them, study their face from up-close and realize how much things have changed as of lately. 

“Right.“ So Virgo cares. They’ve proven it already, obviously. By delivering her messages, helping her back in the train, their attitude during the wedding… Blythe has known that for a while, though chose to push it aside because it make things less complicated. But, with Virgo now taking the lead for once, she doesn’t think she can ignore it any longer.

“So, do you want me to just make sure I tell anyone, or… You?“

.

They’d thought they didn’t want anything to do with this, or at least that they could go on denying for a time that there was no safe middle-ground for them. That ignorance, even in part, might be the thing to save them. It’s one thing to convince themselves in front of the mirror that they can carry on living in their rose-tinted vision while everything around them burns. Here, with the question hanging between them, they find a new kind of clarity. 

“Tell someone.” Virgo catches their lower lip between their teeth, even now the hesitation set in. It’s hard to shake something that’s second nature but they try. They really, truly try. Their heart races. The heat of Blythe so close, something up until now they’ve imagined a hundred different ways, shuts down the doubts in their mind. “Tell me.” 

…

Maybe they should have killed her.

At one point, she wished for it. No, several points. When the iron first touch her skin, Diose begged for it to be her end. Shock made her vanish, but once she was awake and felt so much pain she was unable to move, she once again hoped that it would signal that her demise was near. But, it did not happen. While inside that bin, she wondered if maybe her time had finally come. Even after Robyn had heard her, she doubted they’d be able to do much by themself. DeeZee was her last chance. She pleases, asked him to once and for all do what she thought he’d dreamed of for years only for him to refuse. 

And now she is still there, breathing, barely living. But she can’t give up now, not when Virgo is in shambles. Time and time before, Diose came to the their rescuse. Right now she might now be able to do much, but one thing she can do is promise herself she will try to hold on for Virgo and others. 

“Y-yesssss.“ It’s very likely that her father is upset the job wasn’t concluded. But the man is evil, a complete mastermind that could have concocted a plan where Diose would be forced to live and be miserable. She doesn’t know the truth, which means it’s better to be cautious. Just in case. “B-beforre….. J-justtt took…… One p-person…. F-fatherrr ussssedd……. Clearrrmark-kk….. T-tricked m-mee.“ C-ccan happppen….. Again-nn……” They need a solution. Usually they could’ve just hired a bodyguard, someone to watch over her, but that’s out of the question for obvious reasons. 

“C-can only w-waittt-t.” 

.

Getting people to like them has never been hard, nor if they’re honest has convincing someone to do their bidding. In the past they’ve used the skills for petty things, a favoured seat at the café or a few too many drinks on their tab. They’d thought they’d grown out of it, along with a host of other questionable habits. Now, though, they see an opportunity. A plan of sorts. If Diose is going to be stubborn, they will too. She can wait if she likes, but they’re sick of it. They’re sick of waiting and of sitting on the side-lines, and of feeling that anything they do will only make things worse somehow. 

“It won’t happen again.” Far be it from them to make this promise, but they refuse to entertain the alternative. “And if-- if you won’t help me, I’ll make sure of it myself.” They lift the hem of their shirt to wipe at their face, leaving black streaks against the pale yellow fabric. “Having friends isn’t a weakness, D.”

—

Us. It makes their back straighten, jaw tight with comfort over the reminder that Virgo still finds more familiarity with their oppressor than the team Riggs has come to call family. “And what if the Gamemakers —” their eyes avert slightly, knowing just what that title means to them, “—decide that saying just that is too controversial, worthy of being the target of their newest inventions?” 

Riggs doesn’t question videos, cameras, or audio recorders in this state. They know good and well that Birch, despite all of their hopes and wishes, is walking straight into his funeral. Questions of increasing his risk of death due to talking back might mean making it through half of day one instead of into the night.

“Don’t quite care what ole, cranky Horus thinks.” Riggs leaves the statement with a simple, short shrug. “I just like having you around. Better than the whole lot of them. If they’re really all that upset about the ordeal, I’ll talk strategy with you between screams and wax pulls.”

.

“I’m-- that’s not--” They don’t profess to know what makes their mother tick, let alone any of her colleagues. Only once did they manage to ask why, in the aftermath of a particularly brutal trap stuck on a nightmarish loop in their mind. Virgo doesn’t remember the answer, only that it wasn’t good enough. They think there was something about fate and that’s wrong, too. 

Riggs has them on that. Either they keep pushing to take risks knowing what the consequences might be, or they back down and try to find another answer when the first felt right. To them, at least. But it isn’t their family they’d be gambling on. “We’ll think of something else,” they mutter. They wouldn’t survive the weight of that responsibility. If their words or their mother’s actions were to--

Virgo takes a deep breath and plasters on a smile. “Can I get that in writing? With you as a reference, there’s no way they’d be able to bench me so soon.” It’s hard to withdraw into themselves when Riggs is around. What started as their sorry attempts to console has flipped on its head and suddenly they’re the one being made to feel better. It’s frustrating, and they wouldn’t change it for the world. They brush themselves off. “But none of us are going to be side-lined this year. I’m going to make you gorgeous.”

–

Aldera frowns and she has to look at her feet, knowing this is very much a reality. “Yeah… yeah it will.” And that scares her. there’s too many people she cares about that she knows it’s only a matter of time before one of her loved ones gets taken by the Capitol. Either as punishment, or used as a tool to be a sign for the rest of them.

It’s interesting to her that Virgo says ‘they’ should be looking out for people. Aldera never thought of herself, or Virgo for that matter, as the type to provide protection. “I would say everyone but that’s next to impossible.” But she doesn’t know if anyone’s really better off with the help of her. What can she do. “I don’t think Riggs would let us take care of them if we tried.” The idea sounds a bit silly to her, Riggs having taken care of her since her victory, and now those roles being reversed? She doesn’t even think Riggs is that deep into all this stuff.

.

Virgo doesn’t know who they are without caring. They don’t always know how to show it correctly, and sometimes their enthusiasm can make them off-putting, but where they can they try to use that to their advantage. Here, now, it’s on the side of defiance because they respect Riggs. A lot more than they’d ever thought possible, given the way the Capitol liked to write them off as a joke and their odd way of playing right into that. They understand Aldera’s meaning without having to ask--it doesn’t stop them. 

• • •

HE AND VIRGO aren’t having the same conversation. Whatever it is they mean to tell him, they can’t seem to say outright, and as they talk, it begins to feel more and more like they’re having a discussion with themself and not with him. Their answer tells him nothing, just that their mistakes have caught up with them somehow, and that could mean anything, couldn’t it? They know Virgo’s not the best Stylist; far from it, in fact. They had botched their first year, and in a career as cutthroat as the one they’d chosen to be a part of, that’s putting it lightly. Robyn at least assumes they’re talking about this when they mention second chances and fuck-ups, but beyond that, they can’t say much else. Was it the pressure, then, that had gotten to them? The fear of being disposed of, cast aside as a failed Stylist, and with that last name to boot? A disappointment, in every sense of the word? Perhaps a part of them understands, but it changes nothing. Whatever it is Virgo hopes to achieve by telling him their reasons, he cannot promise to accept in full. Much like the apology itself, the rest of this conversation will need time.

“So… pressure, then,” Robyn says a little too blandly than they might have intended. All their life, they’ve known pressure, have grown to become closely acquainted with it, them and their brother both. It eats up you inside if you so much as slip and accidentally let it. But you learn to keep that to yourself. Robyn had been taught to push it in — to go inward, not outward. Virgo had done the opposite, by lashing out at someone else, and only they would know who else they’d done it to. Do they mean to explain their behavior to him through this, then? Make it out to be some unfortunate result of the crippling stress brought about by their own shortcomings as a Stylist? Robyn doesn’t blame them for not being good enough for the Capitol, but they do blame them for using their woes as an excuse to hurt. Of course, these are all mere assumptions. Unless they tell it to him straight, they’ve no way of knowing if there’s anything deeper at play here.

“…Or is there something else?”

.

“No.” Despite themselves, they smile. Virgo’s reputation for crumbling under pressure precedes them and for one, they’re delighted to be in on the joke. There’s something silly in looking back and knowing that once their biggest problem had been the thought of seeing their work on some inconsequential worst dressed list. The moment of levity does something to their head. Thinking that they could be standing here having a perfectly ordinary conversation, nothing amiss, and that everything beyond the bounds of the rooftop isn’t real. There’s a haze, if they squint, the brightness of the flowers adding a particularly dreamlike touch. But the smell is all wrong. It’s artificial, just a touch too clean, something they wouldn’t have picked up on if they’d never left the Capitol. Virgo plucks the head from a daisy and holds it on their open palm, examining the petals. 

If the flowers aren’t real, nor is anything else. They’re a good dupe, but that’s it. Virgo could easily continue the lie, pick up what Robyn offers and fight their way to forgiveness on an all too convincing lie. Claim innocence, whatever. But they don’t want to--if that had been the case, they don’t think they’d have bothered at all. A few years and things would blow over. All they’d have to do is wait. “Someone came for me.” They crush the flower in their fist. It isn’t real. “When the trains stopped I--” Virgo doesn’t know, can’t be sure, what had really happened. They don’t trust their memory and there’s nobody they can ask. “I was the last person to see Tiberius alive.” 

…

How is Diose supposed to make Virgo understand? It seems like for every warning Diose tries to give them, Virgo has a reply that goes against what Diose wishes Virgo could do. She doesn’t want to take up one day and find out they’re gone. Even if whatever punishment their father would give them wouldn’t be as bad as hers, Diose doesn’t want Virgo to be hurt by anyone. 

“T-thought….. I was-sssss sssafe.“ She was his favorite, after all. But maybe that is why she had to face such a horrible fate. The disappointment her father must have felt had to be unbearable. And thus, he needed to let Diose know how badly she fucked up. 

“R-rrrobynn…. C-comes here….” And she wishes they didn’t, that they’d save their energy for better people. But she still doesn’t stop them. “P-people… v-vissssit me and-dd……“ And what? People come see her, feel bad, help her because they pity her. She wants to be alone, see if she wishes for it hard enough she’ll be able to disappear. “W-wwwhat else…. C-can they d-do to me?“

.

Grateful doesn’t quite cover the way they feel toward Robyn for doing what they can’t. It would be easy, understandable even, for them to turn their back and avoid this burden too. But they don’t, their will to survive more than anything Virgo will ever comprehend. Diose needs somebody like that on her side. The way she appears to them now, they’d say she can use all the help she can get. A question they never, ever thought they’d have to hear confirms their worst fears. 

“Kill you.” 

They’re sure it’s the first time they’ve acknowledged it aloud without flinching. No hiding the truth under the guise of a disappearance or an accident or some other lie. The threat is too close, the reality that they could’ve lost Diose too much for them to want to try to justify what’s happened. They never thought it would be her, whatever fear they held on her behalf took a back seat because it seemed so impossible. Before this, it was only ever words. Virgo collected insults behind her back, found clever ways to shift them in her favour--failing that, they’d run right to her because Diose could fix anything. They’d thought her armour impenetrable. Now they see she’s just as human as the rest of them. 

“They could come back.” Virgo doesn’t want to say it, they struggle through another wave of fear. Pressure builds behind their eyes and their lip trembles. “Someone could come even now and you wouldn’t... you couldn’t--” save yourself, “they could come back.”

IT’S NOT OVER yet. Clearly, Virgo intends to keep this going for as long as they feel like they have to, perhaps until Robyn finally grants them the forgiveness it seems to him they so desperately need. The problem is that he’s not so sure he can provide that for them right now. It doesn’t feel at all like something to be rushed, something to be doled out at a moment’s notice when the cut’s run a little too deeply, and the apology’s only barely scratched the surface, not to mention taken this long. Robyn thinks they can be allowed a good deal more patience here.

But now it appears Virgo means to tell them why. That “why” could be quite a number of things. Why they had deliberately chosen to treat him so harshly, perhaps, or why they had thought harassing him like that had been the best course of action at the time — or maybe even why they’d been feeling so upset in the first place. Robyn won’t compare one person’s pain to another, that’s not something they would ever want to do, and they don’t know enough about Virgo to say for sure if they’d been going through something at the time as well, but it’s possible that they had been and might have only done what they had to Robyn as a means to cope. It doesn’t excuse their behavior at all, though, even if Robyn were to end up understanding and Virgo were to end up making a valid point. What’s done is done, and they never should have resorted to hurting someone else as a way to deal with their own problems to begin with.

Heaving a sigh, Robyn shakes their head. They recognize that there’s no real way out of this other than through. They’ll have to finish this conversation, hear Virgo out in full, see what else it is they mean to tell them, and only then will they be allowed to go in peace. Perhaps they’ll think on their apology, perhaps not yet; all they know is, they’d rather be out of here as soon as they can. Get on with their day, make sure no part of their schedule’s gone awry. “Go on, then,” they say, looking elsewhere, not at Virgo anymore. The synthetic flowers that they’d chosen to criticize, maybe, when they’d first opened their mouth earlier to speak to him. “Why?”

.

There’s got to be a better way to say the things they need than blurting. How’d they’d come to Aldera in a rush of blood, snot, and panic. How they’d burrowed so deeply into themselves that even now they’re afraid to face the light. The words they’d said in the hopes it might ease their burden. Taking all the good they knew of their friends, of Robyn and Diose and Nelly and countless others, and turning it into a tirade against them. As if it hadn’t been Virgo’s fault all along.

“I--” They haven’t the skill to mask their true meaning, though they’ve enough of their wits about them to be careful. Virgo lowers their voice, steps closer. They lace their hands together behind their back in part because the image of what they’re capable of is burned into their mind--they’d hate for Robyn to see it, too. “My mistakes caught up with me.” Understatement. Whatever pushed Tiberius to find them the way he had, they’re sure it all boils down to the reputation they’d so quickly destroyed. “I don’t think they were going to give me a second chance, you know? The Quell’s too important to risk another fuck-up.”

…

Blythe swears that this isn’t Virgo. That during the night they had to be replaced with a clone or something similar given that she almost can’t believe that Virgo is actually holding their own against her, daring to tell her no when Blythe is probably one of the most stupidly stubborn people in the world. They’re nothing like the Virgo she talked to on the train, the Virgo Blythe almost begged to be more feisty and willing to fight. Now, Blythe got what exactly what she wanted and she has no idea what to do. 

Her hands are on top of Virgos. She has the intention of gently pushing them away and get a chance to not be forced to look at them, but when she catches their eyes, Blythe’s resolve is gone because she can see how determined they are. 

“It is my job when my big fucking mouth is what gets people hurt or kidnapped…“ Or killed. She might not be willing to admit it out loud, but Blythe is terrified. Virgo offers something else, and this time, Blythe doesn’t outright say no. She thinks of her conversation with Griffin, of how there are things she is not suited to do so maybe Virgo is onto something. “Okay.“ She finally gives in, dropping her arms along with her gaze. She is agreeing with Virgo, but she feels like she’s been defeated.  “But you need to promise me you’re going to listen to me. No going rogue, no doing stupid heroic shit. We are playing it safe.“

.

They don’t know what they’d do if she said no, don’t like to consider how far they might’ve gone to get what they need. There’s darkness, persistent. Something unlocked in a moment’s panic that haunts them even now, fear that the limits they’ve set for themselves are worthless. Virgo doesn’t know what to do with this newfound freedom. They need something to believe in. It’s as much a desperation for themselves as it is the wish for their friends to be safe.

“You’re not the only one,” Virgo says, a subtle shrug of their shoulders. They’re sure it was supposed to be comforting, but the knowledge that any one of them could make a wrong move is horrifying. “You know you have to be careful, it’s the people who don’t that are the problem.” There’s a joke in there somewhere. Riggs would find it, but for Virgo it falls flat. This isn’t the time to be holding themselves back with the pretence of cluelessness. If they want to be taken seriously they have to earn it. 

The wires cross and where they mean to be grateful, pliable, they loop their arms over Blythe’s shoulders and pull her close. The daring has to go somewhere. She’d told them once that there was no-one left who cares about her, they have to wonder what changed that she’s willing to play it safe. Reality, they think. The brazen show of power by the Capitol who it seems to them are becoming desperate. They’ve a point to prove, one they doubt has capped its list of causalities just yet. 

…

Diose believes that now it’s been made pretty clear how invested their father is in keeping an eye on them. And that even though he’s made his stance clear and has disinherited, he probably is still watching over her. And even though he’s always been much softer on Virgo, it’s been confirmed that the same watchful eye that caught Diose going after his principles is now watching Virgo. Cue a panicked reaction of Diose, because despite his father willingness to ignore Virgo’s mishaps, Diose doubts he’d ignore what they just said.

“N-noooo, nooo!!“ She shakes her head vigorously, the only way she has to plead for her sibling to be quiet and don’t say more. If Diose, who was once far stronger and durable than Virgo was left in shambles, she doesn’t want to think what would happen to Virgo if their father decides they need to be punished too. “Evv-verrywheereee… He…. Isss w-wattchingg-gggg!“ 

Diose wishes that for once, Virgo could learn from her mistakes. Stop following her lead, just walk away and save themself from their father’s wrath.

.

"That never stopped you.” Virgo sniffs, swiping their palms over their cheeks. It’s almost an accusation. If Diose had been more careful and heeded her own warning she wouldn’t be here, like this. They wouldn’t have to pick sides and could continue to split themselves a thousand different ways just to make sure everybody was happy. They could play the fool for as long as it suited them or until somebody told them to stop. Now it’s all they can do to make the hardest decision and hope it’s the right one.

They feel the fear rolling off Diose in waves, relentless as it crashes over them. She’s right and they know it. No matter what she does, it always leads back to their parents. That’s the problem with having such a famous name, the stares that follow them everywhere picking up scraps of information in the hopes it might grant them some power.

But Virgo is different. They have leeway that Diose never did. What they’d shared on the telecom could’ve ended them, but it didn’t. What they’d done on the train could’ve ended them, but it didn’t. The scrap of luck that keeps them safe can’t just be a coincidence, they want to believe it’s more than that. They have to, or they’ll never do anything. 

–

It’s painfully naïve, and if Aldera hadn’t come to adore Virgo in recent times, she would have pointed out how ridiculous and out of touch that statement was. But Aldera’s better now. She’s not so cruel with people anymore.

“It’s been happening before any of us were born, Virgo. Now it’s just close to us.” In fact, Aldera wouldn’t be surprised if something just like this had happened in the past, and the Capitol just covered it up and erased it from history.

And then she aches. Thinking that she and her friends might be erased from all books. No one would ever speak of them again. They’d be forgotten and lost. It’s a bit of a crushing feeling of hopelessness.

She shakes her head from the though, and looks to Virgo. “Nothing weird though. Apart from everything being weird.”

.

They need to hear it. See the obvious laid out in front of them, far removed from the tangle of their thoughts. Virgo nods, brows furrowed. “It’s going to keep getting closer.” Not a question this time. They’ve spoken enough to Blythe to know that she isn’t going to back down no matter the cost. They’re sure that more feel the way she does, they’re just better at hiding it. 

If the history is there, they’d like to find it. No doubt it’d be buried so deeply that no-one would remember the details by now, if they ever knew them at all. They’ve read enough to know that often the information is diluted, someone’s paranoia turning into protection for the rest. The fear that keeps people from talking meaning none are ever the wiser and change never happens. Tales like these are resigned to a whisper--they never thought they’d live through one. 

—

Of course they will. Riggs might be silly, foolish even, but they’re not unintelligent, and they’re certainly not naive. The Capitol takes. It rips through the most delicate pieces of the victors’ and tributes’ lives and transforms them into shock pieces for their citizen’s entertainment. 

And they hate it. They don’t hate much, even with all of the pain and suffering that has surrounded them since they were just a newborn, they can’t find it in their heart to paint the world in hatred and cynicism. But this? This ability to pull other’s pain and suffering apart and find humor in it? Well, that they can say, with no hesitation, they loathe.

“So I be honest then? Tell them how the only reason Birch stands a chance is because I won my Games by luck and was able to provide him with food growing up unlike many of the other Eleven kids?” There’s a snort, followed by a brief, cold laugh. There’s making light of the situation — finding something bright and humorous amongst the dark — and there’s the accepting of the darkness. Riggs isn’t quite sure there’s another way to spin it. They never have been.

Their body shakes slightly with the exhale they release. Eyes flash over towards baby-proofed tables, orchard themed statement pieces, and nothing in particular. “Well when you put it like that…” Riggs reaches out to gently pat the top of their hand, “…can’t go wrong with you as a coach, huh? One of the few people I trust with this kind of thing. They might as well anoint you as the first stylist-escort at this point… as long as ole Horus doesn’t try to burn the place down.”

.

Riggs’ laugh sends a shudder down their spine. They try to school their features into something neutral, to listen and learn rather than jump to defensiveness of a lifestyle that was never really their choice at all. But there’s still so much they don’t know, a new and vicious surprise that lurks around every corner. It would be easy to let themselves be tempted back into ignorance. 

“That’s exactly what you should do.” They sit up a little straighter. Riggs might think it silly, think them naïve, but it’s their determination that stands out now. “What better what to get people to pay attention than to give them the opposite of what they expect from you? Nobody... None of us--” Virgo pulls an odd face, rejecting the association even as they make it, “--would be able to look away.” 

There’s more to it than that, they’re sure. A way their friends’ stories could be used to make a stand of a different sort. Not through fearmongering and threats the way those announcements seem to favour, but angling toward understanding. The truth, no matter how painful, is something they think needs to be heard. They’ve watched for years as their father crafted masterful propaganda--maybe it’s time someone else has a turn. 

But what do they know? 

They shrug, turning their face to hide a grin. “I think they’d rather demote me to prep team.” Funny that something they’d feared with every fibre of their being only a couple months ago now doesn’t bother them at all. They’re too focused on the delight of being told they’re trusted. “Then you’ll have to let Horus be your first while I’m stuck waxing eyebrows.” 

–

It shouldn’t feel reassuring, to know that Virgo feels the same way they do. Mostly because this feels like a hell they shouldn’t wish on anyone else. The waiting. The fear. The feeling of their hope draining away as the Games march closer.

But it’s a relief to not be alone. Even with the other Victors, sometimes, they feel alone. When people speak to them in riddles, when they can only look at around themself and wonder: What are you planning? What aren’t you telling me? And, above all else: Why? What is it that they see in Hudson that keeps them on the outside, doomed to be a symbol and nothing else?

Maybe that’s why they don’t think as carefully as they should about answering Virgo’s question. But, in the end, there’s only one right answer. They know what they would be supposed to say if they were onstage and in front of cameras, something about wanting to continue the streak, bring glory back to District 12—but they can’t imagine themself doing that. They can’t imagine how anyone could hear it and not hate them for it, though they know Mentors have been saying some version of it for years.

“I want people to be safe. Wren and Gage, but not just them—Birch, Zero, Harbor. All of them. No matter how impossible it feels.” They don’t want the Games to happen, but they know enough to at least leave that between the lines. “What do you want?”

.

They’re surprised not to be given a stock answer. More often than not when they find themselves in unfamiliar territory, they don’t make it past small-talk. Virgo thinks it’s very Capitol of them, to stick to the safe route and comment only on what’s immediately obvious. Now, their deviation earns them new insight. 

“All of them,” they repeat, the shadow of a question they don’t need to ask. “That’s very noble of you.” 

Naming their own tributes would make Hudson seem reasonable enough, but they push further. To other districts, despite knowing that by the rules of the game safety of one negates every other. But impossibility is their game, isn’t it? They survived alongside Fava. Virgo remembers the fragile state of their mother in the days following Twelve’s joint victory and knows better than to think it a gimmick. She was scared. They think, now, that she was right to be.