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𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 1

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘶𝘴

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Caius loves stories. Rather they were read to him or told— even drawn, a story was worth everything to him. Caius was never told stories growing up, at least not by anyone close to him, his Grandfather especially. Stories were withheld like secrets in the Snow household...

His grandfather would simply read him and his sister children's books if he had the time, but that wasn't enough for Caius. That wasn't real. They didn't feel real to him.

"Does your Grandfather know you're here?" The scrawny, tatted woman asks Caius as he eagerly takes a seat beside her while she continues to work her sewing machine like it was second nature, first even.

He's seen his Aunt Tigris sew away like nobody's business without so much as glancing down, never to harm an inch of her fingers. But at this point in her life she was a natural.

To Caius, the animal-like woman in front of him seemed so young. He would never believe she was older than his Grandpa, that is certain. He thinks the modifications on her face simply hide her age, not her beauty.

"Does he need to?" Caius answers smugly, causing the elder to scoff slightly as she taps his arm.

"Very well." She hums. "Suit yourself." He could see the corner of her lips stretch, barely, cracking a smile. No matter how hard she tried to play the mean old lady, she had a soft spot for the boy— young man.

"So what're you making today?" He asks, pulling an apple out of his bag, placing it down beside him, and making himself a bit more comfortable as he stretches out.

Although Tigris has whacked him with her fan to sit up straighter or not put his feet on her table, he feels more relaxed with her than anyone else in the Capitol... Where eyes are always watching or cameras are always rolling. In her shop he felt at peace, though he had no fashion sense in him whatsoever, he enjoyed watching her thrive in her own space that she calls home.

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Her voice brightens. "Everyone is wanting the District 12 styled fashion these days." She refers to the Victors, plural, that won the Games merely six months ago.

Everyone at the Capitol has been itching and raving for the star-crossed lovers on-screen reunion when their Victory tour begins shortly. In just a couple of days they will be shoved in everyone's faces once again.

"Ah, is that time already?" Caius's voice rings hollow. It's all he's heard about for the past six months, he's not sure he can take actually seeing them on camera again without wanting to rip his blonde curls out. His Grandfather's angered obsession has about driven him completely mad— and he thought he was angry enough about last year's Victor, Maverick Zavala.

Oh, let's not go there. he thought to himself, who has the time?

"Well, you better not stay long." Tigris breaks him out of his thoughts.

Caius sits up. "Why not?" He makes a sound of disapproval.

"District 12 is being paid a visit this evening before the Victory Tour begins." Her voice crisps with amusement. "He'll want you home for that."

"Right." Caius nods absentmindedly before a smirk graces his lips. "One story?" Tigris glances up at him. "Please?" That smile sent a chill down her spine. Every interaction with the curly blonde boy etched her mind. He was the splitting image of his Grandfather, Coriolanus Snow, and that thought never rests.

She inhales. "Oh, alright." She huffs, acting as if it's an inconvenience, when really she quite enjoys their time together. It lights a spark inside of her that dimmed long ago. And it reminds her that the aspiring young man in front of her was not the same man who rules over Panem.

She was constantly having to remind herself of that.

"Would you like to hear about the time I made your Grandfather a shirt out of bathroom tiles?" Her smile brightens like the Cheshire cat. 

Caius's mouth falls open. "No way—"

"Oh yes." Tigris hums.

His eyes light up. "Do you by any chance still have it?" It was a long shot, but one that he couldn't help but take.

She pauses, a little taken aback by the question, but answers all the same. "I do."

Caius can't help but let the next thing fly out of his mouth. "Can I have it?"

Tigris looks him directly in the eyes, causing him to sweat a little. Maybe he had crossed a line. But family heirlooms aren't passed around much in his household. It's as if his Grandfather has nothing from his childhood, no memory of ever growing up, as if he has always been the old, stone-cold president that he is today. His aunt is the only thing that reminds him that his Grandpa was once like him, young, and humane.

Tigris should have never kept that shirt in the first place, and it's a miracle it hasn't been lost in all the madness of her work over the years, but she couldn't seem to part ways with it. It was one of her best designs, even still to this day.

"You may." She finally speaks. Her only wish was that she could be a fly on the wall to watch Snow's reaction of him having it.

"Tell me everything." Caius says, eager to hear the story behind such an exquisite piece.

𓅫 𓅫 𓅫

"Wren! Wren! Wrenley Maue!" Kane shouts for his sister, though his voice is nothing but a whisper in the distance.

Wrenley had fed the last cow for the day, but her day has caught up to her. As she stares coldly into the distance, frozen and paralyzed in fear. Her body shakes as Kane approaches her, grabbing her shoulder.

"Hey, I've been callin- shit!" He grabs the rake as she swings upward, not paying attention to who's behind her.

She blinks, coming to. She drops the handle as her mouth falls open. "Oh God-"

"It's okay, it's okay." Kane quickly diffuses. "I'm fine, see?" He holds up both hands. "Been calling your name for the past five minutes." He says, trying his hardest to hide his flooding concern.

Wrenley's rapid breathing begins to slow. "Sorry." She bends over, placing her hands on her knees, avoiding eye contact, embarrassed she almost took her brother's head.

Kane clears his throat. "It, uh, happened again, huh?" He asks, not even having to say it.

Wrenley's chest pulls from her heart beating so fast. She rubs her prickled skin as she shakes her head. It's been several weeks since she's had an episode, but they never truly fade.

She has episodes where she see's people— tributes from her Games. Sometimes they're just standing there staring at her, other times they're dying all over again or trying to attack her. It's not real, she tries to tell herself, it's not real.

Oh, but it is.

It is real, and she's lived through it. The first year or so of being home was the worst of it. Some thought she was schizophrenic, but the healer said it was just her body, and mind, dealing with the trauma of the Games.

They don't tell you that.

They don't tell you all the pain and suffering one endures after becoming a Victor. They make it look fun. Like a prize to be won. Victory Tour's, money, prizes, jewels... anything to wash away the reality of what winning the Games is truly like.

Wrenley takes a harsh gulp of the cold air. "Yeah, it's fine, let's just go inside." She mumbles, quick to dismiss, not wanting to dive in to the never-ending pool of fear, memories, pain.

Her brother gently stops her. "Wait-" She sighs. "Please, Wren, just- just talk to one of us if it gets bad again, okay?"

She chews on the inside of her cheek, not hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste being an all too familiar one that makes her instantly want to puke when she tastes it now. Her brother— brothers are the only ones who can come close to understanding what she's been through, having won the Games themselves. Each Game is different, a new special carnival of torment each year, but the result are all the same. And it was as if their family was cursed, doomed to be plucked from the glass bowl every few years.

Wrenley still believes Maverick's reaping was a set-up. She swears, no she knows, that the escort did not even look down at the paper before reading his name off last year.

"Come on, we have something good to watch tonight." Kane saves her from her spiraling thoughts, pulling her in for a side hug.

She relaxes in her brother's arms. Arms that have killed, yet he's one of the few she feels the safest to be around. Her family is her comfort, her home.

"What is it?" She manages to get out, confused on what could possibly be so entertaining that her older brother could actually be smiling.

"Oh, you'll see."

𓅫𓅫𓅫

𝟶ʙᴜᴛᴛᴇʀʙɪsᴄᴜɪᴛ𝟽 sᴘᴇᴀᴋs!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!! Anteric Crimes has arrived <3

I cannot believe the amount of people hyped for this book, so thank you so much for your patience and for being here! I am so incredibly excited for what I have planned for this!! (hehehe)

I absolutely adore how this chapter just naturally started itself and flowed right out of me, so hope y'all enjoy!! Please don't be afraid to comment questions and y'all's thoughts and reactions, it is so motivating and fun for me to read and interact with y'all!!

Lemme know what you think and who your favorite was to meet thus far... Until next time! ;)

ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ sᴘᴇᴀᴋs!!

Welcome backkkk to Anteric Crimessss <3