004. the capitol always wins

Emerald hates this time of year, the time where a bunch of children are going to be sent to a meaningless death. Whilst she may no longer be eligible, it's now her responsibility to try and get District Eight's tributes out alive. It was hard the first year she had to do it, and she's sure this one will be just as bad. What makes it even worse is that Phoenix will not be joining her this year — he wasn't supposed to last year either.

Instead, she'll be joined by Silas who is relatively a stranger. She supposes it'll be nice to finally get to know something about him, he's more closed off than she is, which is a pretty big achievement.

The brunette sinks into the lounge beside Esme, leaning her head against the older woman's shoulder almost as if she's seeking support and comfort. Phoenix sits on her other side, his hand gently grasping her's and it's probably the first time she's ever felt so secure. Her mother, on the other hand, wouldn't even sit on the same lounge as her if she was back home.

The familiar static takes over the previously blank screen, until it eventually settles on an image of President Snow who is getting ready to take the podium. The Capitol residents are yelling and screaming, joyful screeches as they await the announcement that the rest of Panem is dreading.

Who knows what they have in store this year — family members of ex tributes? Three times as many tributes? All one District having to compete instead of Twelve?

All of them are horrid and yet they may not even be the cruelest stipulations that the Capitol can come up with. The President is exceptionally cruel, and after the events of the past few months, he is more desperate than ever to assert his dominance over the Districts of Panem.

The man steps up to the podium, his lips the familiar blood red as a result of wine consumption. Emerald is convinced he keeps it that way on purpose, that it's his way of instilling fear subtly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the Hunger Games," President Snow announces and unconsciously, Emerald squeezes Phoenix's hand just that little bit tighter.

His sentence is met with cheers so loud that they make the teenager flinch in response. These people have no hearts, no morals, it gets more and more evident with each passing year. How can they possibly cheer when they know that his will be a year of even more suffering?

"It was written in the charter of the games that every twenty-five years there will be a Quarter Quell. Now, on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," Snow continues with almost a sickly sweet expression, the Capitol residents once again erupting into cheers.

The anticipation for what he's about to say can be seen in his facial expression, a certain glimmer in his normally stone cold gaze. He's excited, gleeful even, and that bodes well for nobody. Along with the happiness that practically lights up his face, there is a hint of smugness buried within. This man is planning something sinister.

Emerald's heart is beating erratically, a harsh pulsing sensation against her chest. Her breaths are deep as she thinks about the cruelty to come their way, the way of the innocent children from the Districts.

"As a reminder, that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell game, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district,"

Phoenix reacts first, picking up one of the glasses from the table and launching it towards the monitor, where Snow is now smiling down the barrel of the camera — he's sending a message. Esme begins to sob as Emerald lifts her head from the woman's shoulder, her arm slackening and therefore releasing Phoenix's hand as well.

The male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors.

The statement is on replay in her mind, hands trembling as she pushes herself up and stumbles out of the room. Her former mentor calls out her name as she flees the home, leaving the two adults with each other. A cry escapes from her lips, fear creeping up within her.

Without even realising it, Emerald ends up at her own home — the same place she has refused to be for so long now. It's hardly even her's anymore, now more so her mother's home. Her mother.

Perhaps it's the naivety within her, or maybe she's just incredibly stupid, but she seeks the comfort of her mother. All she wants is for Jewel to wrap her up in her arms and allow her to cry, whispering reassurances and telling her how much she's loved. All she wants is her mother.

Pushing open the front door, the brunette stumbles towards the living room where she can still hear the television. The woman in question is sitting with a cup of tea in her hands, sipping calmly as if she didn't just hear that her only child could have to face the horrors of the Games again.

"Mum,"

Emerald's voice cracks as she rushes over, collapsing against the older woman. Jewel places her cup down on the coffee table and wraps her arms around the girl, an embrace that feels so foreign to her. However, she simply allows the events of the past to fade away as she continues to seek out support.

"It's okay, my darling. Everything in this world happens for a reason," Jewel smooths the girl's hair with her rough hands. The words aren't exactly what Emerald expected from her mum, not even remotely close. "You can make sure that District Eight suffers no more meaningless death,"

Emerald sniffles and pulls back slightly, looking the woman in the eyes. "W-what do you mean?"

"You were never meant to survive the first time, my dear, you and I both know that. Now you can make it right,"

They sting, each word like an extra zap against her skin. You were never meant to survive the first time. It's always been something that Jewel had thought, something she told her daughter a few times out of anger, but this is something different entirely.

"Everybody else, the other Victors, they have families to come home to. They have people who will grieve them, miss them immensely. You don't have that darling, if you died nobody would feel a thing," Jewel pushes a piece of hair behind the girl's ear tenderly, the action the complete opposite to the venomous words spewing from her lips.

"N-not even you?" Emerald stutters out with a sob, the pain in her heart so harsh that it feels as if it's about to shatter.

"No. How can I grieve somebody who doesn't love me?"

Emerald Colter wishes she could simply pack her bags up and leave, forget the country of Panem and find somewhere better to live the rest of her life. The only problem is they'd find her, and who knows what would happen then. It would be a crueler fate than the one she faces right now,

Emerald stands beside Cecilia, the only other living District Eight female Victor, who is obviously emotional by the events. Emerald has met her several times before and she was more than lovely, offering up a few reassuring smiles when she needed them the most.

On the other side of the stage stands the male tributes — Phoenix, Silas and Woof. The brunette can't stop herself from giving them small glances, her heart aching at the sight of Phoenix amongst them. If she gets picked, she doesn't want him going in there with her. That's the last thing that she wants.

Tye Lovelace steps onto the stage, her silky black hair braided down her back as she wears an eccentric pink dress. Emerald would never say it to the woman aloud, but some of her outfit choices are absolutely horrid. She makes her way to the microphone, gulping slightly as she gets ready to speak.

"Welcome! I welcome all of District Eight to this year's exciting reaping," Tye does her absolute best to sound upbeat and enthusiastic but it's evident she's failing. There has always been an empathy from Tye that a lot of the other escorts don't have, and Emerald has always appreciated that about her.

"Today, our victors are lucky enough to get to represent their Districts once again. So, I won't stall anymore. Ladies first," Tye says to the crowd who hardly even move at her words.

Emerald feels skin brush against her's, and when she looks down, she sees that Cecelia has grabbed her hand. The girl allows their fingers to intertwine in a comforting embrace, neither of them really sure how this is going to go. As Tye nears the large glass bowl, both of their arms begin to shake in unison.

Tye sticks her hand in and picks up one of the two pieces of paper, seemingly not wanting to waste anymore time. Moving back over to the microphone and slowly opening up the slip of paper to read the name on the inside.

"Cecelia Forester,"

Emerald can't lie and say she doesn't feel an insane sense of relief when the name called isn't her's. The problem is, that emotion doesn't last long at all. Cries from the small children in the crowd, Cecelia's small children, cause an instant shift in how she's feeling. The two smallest rush up on the stage and grab onto her, crying and begging for her not to go.

Emerald's eyes move to the crowd, searching for a moment until she finds who she is looking for. Her mother stands in the back, arms crossed over her chest.

"They have people who will grieve them, miss them immensely. You don't have that darling, if you died nobody would feel a thing,"

Gulping slightly, Emerald takes one final look at Cecelia who is about to stand beside Tye and grabs her wrist. The woman looks back in confusion.

"I volunteer,"

The two words slip from her lips so quickly she can hardly comprehend she's said them. The older tribute's face crumbles, and out of the corner of her eye she can see Phoenix's head snap over in disbelief. He'd expressed his want for her to be safe and well, this completely changes that.

"A volunteer? Oh how wonderful,"

It's the least sincere Emerald has ever heard Tye.

Cecelia reaches out for younger girl, wrapping her up in a hug that radiates gratitude. "Thank you," she whispers.

"You take care of those kids," Emerald replies quietly, before pulling away and offering her a small smile. The youngest tribute on the stage stands beside the escort now, ready to hear who will be joining her for the last few days of her life — better her than them.

"And now, our male tribute for this year's Quarter Quell is Silas Whitlock!"

It's ironic almost, that these two were to mentor the newest tributes and now they're the ones who will be facing the horrors of the Games. The boy takes a deep breathe and stands on the other side of Tye.

"Your tributes for the Quarter Quell, Emerald Colter and Silas Whitlock!"