"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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Festus led the congratulations, a broad smile lighting up his face as he embraced her and patted her back. The relief coursing through her was profound—Treech had done it, he'd won.
Lyssie followed suit, pulling her into an exuberant hug and jumping with excitement for her friend. As more well-wishers joined in, the attention became overwhelming.
Amidst the congratulations, the only thought occupying her mind was Treech. The Plinth prize held no significance compared to his victory.
Coriolanus stood by, his face etched with a glare, but the girl stood untouchable. Her triumph was a shield against any retaliation—he couldn't act against her; she held the knowledge of his cheating.
In the intricate dance of the Games, Coriolanus knew the steps, but Delyth proved to be the master.
Her eyes scanned the room, capturing the stern figure of Dr. Gaul. A sour expression adorned her face, and Delyth sensed the weight of her disapproving gaze.
Nervousness enveloped her once again; the woman didn't favor her, and by forcing a victor, Delyth had crossed a line. Concern for Treech's safety gnawed at her – what consequences awaited him?
Amid the gradually emptying room, her sole focus remained on one thought – Treech. She yearned to find him, a longing to share in his triumph and ensure he was unscathed after challenging the Capitol's expectations.
Just as she was poised to depart, a voice reached her ears, "Congratulations, Ms. Bardott." She turned to find Dean Highbottom stepping into view.
She didn't have a moment to savor the congratulation or express gratitude; Treech dominated her thoughts.
"Where is he?" she asked anxiously, desperation evident in her voice. Highbottom's face remained stoic.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," he replied, avoiding eye contact, giving the impression that he was about to walk away.
"Please!" she almost yelled at him, desperation resonating in her voice. He turned to look at her, her pleading eyes tugging at something within him.
"Please, Mr. Highbottom," she urged, the gravity of the situation apparent.
Observing the desperation in her eyes, he sighed, relenting. Knowing the girl's circumstances, he decided she deserved this much.
"He's getting the medical attention he needs," he told her. She nodded, desperate for him to continue.
"He'll be back on his way to Seven in the morning," he revealed. Tomorrow? Would she be able to see him? Panic flooded her mind, and she was about to take off to the hospital before he interrupted.
