𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 stood staring out into the shore, one of the many gifts she was given after her win was the house that has a clear view of the ocean. the salty smell waking her up in the mornings, every victor is given a house in their own little part of the district to live amongst the other remaining tributes from their home. luckily for delia, she was placed only a few metre walk from her parents house, right next door. finnick, mags and annie also surrounding them.
the wind brushed through her hair, that familiar tacky lacing coating each strand from the salt. today marks the 3rd year since the 72nd hunger games. the games that changed cordelias life completely. the time of year haunting delia, the fact that for entertainment they watch 23 childeren die each year, the survivors being traumatised for the rest of their lives, and they sit there and enjoy it, fucking insanity. no ones wins, some live but with what cost.
"hey, kid." the voice of thomas james, making his daughter jump from the unexpectedness of it. silence. the only sound from between the pair was the swishing of the waves, and slight breaths every few seconds. "i wish i could tell you it got easier." he speaks again, his words causing his daughters head to turn slightly to look at him. "it's hard every year, but me and your mum are here for you.. always." he says, his hand going to touch her shoulder.
"i know dad.." she replies, a sniffle following, now noticing the few tears trailing down her cheeks. "god! i don't even know why i'm crying." she laughs, wiping her hand against her nose. "come inside, your mums making lunch before the announcement."
delia and her father walk slowly past a few empty houses, for future victors, before reaching the house most of her memories are from, the place she grew up.
༄
clapping echoed through the hologram of president snow, delia sat stubbornly on her parents sofa. her original plan was to boycott whatever bullshit announcement snow was going to make but her parents convinced her saying it could be something important, not to mention the warning snow gave her against any form of retaliation she could do.
"ladies and gentlemen. this is the 75th year of the hunger games." cheering erupting from the crowd. "and it was written in the charter of the games that every twenty-five years, there will be a quarter quell. to keep fresh for each new generation, the memory of those who died in the uprising against the capitol. each quarter quell is distinguished by games of a special significance." silence from the three family members, all staring at the screen.
