"Ironic ain't it? The one woman I can't get enough of, is the one I'll never be able to have"
Delyth Bardott grapples with unexpected emotions for her tribute, straying from the expected norms of a Capitol girl drawn to a District boy.
Meanwhile...
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Maintaining a distance from Coriolanus upon his return, she aimed to avoid raising suspicion.
As she reentered the room, she discovered Coriolanus, seething with frustration. His clenched wrists and intensified anger collided with her gaze, leaving her uncertain about the nature of his thwarted actions.
Festus, the second to notice her, hurriedly ushered her over. The urgency in his demeanor fueled her nerves; a sense of concern crept in—what if something had happened to Treech?
Standing alongside him, she inquired, "What happened? Is Treech alright?" Her nerves manifested in the fidgeting of her fingers.
He nodded, "Only just. He refused to go under the vent," he informed her. Her gaze shifted to the screen, witnessing Coral fervently spearing her trident up into the vent. "I thought Coral was going to kill him for it."
Unaware of his whereabouts as the camera remained fixed on Coral, she fretted. Her worry heightened as she witnessed Lucy Gray plummeting through the ceiling, landing atop Coral.
Lucy Gray darted away with Coral and Mizzen in pursuit. Suddenly, all movement in the arena ceased, The rhythmic thudding of helicopter blades echoed through the air as the healicopter descended. The churning wind brought with it a sense of anticipation. It seemed to be releasing the black container— the very same container Coriolanus had tried to surreptitiously place his handkerchief into.
Her immediate gaze fixated on him, and he gulped audibly. His discomfort was palpable, an air of extreme nervousness enveloping him, his gaze stubbornly fixed on the screen, he looked extremely pale.
Lucky spoke, snapping her from her thoughts, "that! Is not going to be good"
The container rested in eerie stillness, a silent sentinel amidst the hushed arena and auditorium. Every tribute acknowledged the ominous presence of the container, a collective awareness of its concealed dangers permeating the air.
All but one
The camera glided towards Wovey, emerging from her concealed refuge, seemingly drawn by the distant hum of the helicopter. Assuming it signaled their chance to leave, Delyth's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the young girl.
"Is it over?" She questioned, her voice cracking slightly. "Can we go home now?" She approached the container.
The girl's comment welled tears in Delyth's eyes. Gently shaking her head as she observed the girl approaching the container, the innocence radiating from her was striking. Despite witnessing the brutality among the tributes left in the arena, she harbored a heartfelt desire for all their release.
