the way things go [s. plinth]

x i v

When Ophelia woke later in the evening, something felt wrong. She couldn't explain what was off about the arena, it just simply wasn't right. Ophelia got up and looked out of the window, scanning the arena for something out of the ordinary.

Through shafts of moonlight, Ophelia could see Lamina, sleeping peacefully atop the crossbeam. She could barely make out the shadow of Marcus's body lying below her. There. Someone was kneeling at Marcus's side, another figure standing above them.

Who could they be? There was no one here to mourn him, besides Ophelia. Marcus had kept to himself when he was alive, Ophelia being the only other tribute he talked to. Which meant the figures in the arena weren't tributes.

Ophelia felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity. It was dangerous and stupid, but she had to figure out who was there.

She eased the door to the press box open, wincing as the rusty hinges squeaked. She tiptoed down the steps, careful not to make any noise. As she descended, Ophelia felt a pit growing in her stomach. She almost debated on returning to the guaranteed safety of the pressbox, but a nagging part of her told her she had to see who this mysterious visitor was.

Ophelia jumped down from the wall, landing softly on the dried arena floor. She winced as a small jolt of pain shot up her injured ankle. She crouched to remove her knife from its sheath. If she was going to be stepping into a potential fight, she wasn't going to go unarmed.

From this angle, Ophelia could see the figures better. Though it was difficult to tell with the lighting, it looked like they were both wearing red uniforms, like the ones the Academy students wore. The one crouching was holding something over Marcus's body, something falling from their hand. Breadcrumbs.

Ophelia almost stumbled. No. this can't be happening. What was Sejanus doing in the arena? Though she had no way of confirming that the crouched figure was Sejanus, no one else from the Academy would understand the breadcrumbs. That must have been why Sejanus refused to send her bread. He wanted to perform the tradition himself.

Ophelia balled her free hand into a fist. She wanted to be furious at him for risking his life for something she easily could have done herself. But she couldn't stay angry for long, as her desire to be near him was too strong. She wasn't sure who the other student was, but she didn't care.

Ophelia took a hesitant step forward. She didn't know how she should approach the students. She couldn't call out to Sejanus from here; it would alert the other tributes to their whereabouts. If she was too quiet, she would frighten him. She settled on walking towards them, quietly, but not silently. She intentionally kicked at some small pieces of rubble to alert them of her presence.

Somehow, they still didn't acknowledge her until she was just a few feet away from them. They seemed to be in an argument of some sort. The other figure turned out to be Sejanus's blond friend, the one Ophelia was skeptical of.

"Sejanus?" she said softly. "It's me."

The blond boy turned first. His eyes widened with fear when he saw the young woman, dagger in hand.

"I'm not here to hurt you," said Ophelia, holding her hands up. "I want to talk to Sej."

Sejanus stiffened before looking in her direction. "It's okay, Coriolanus. Let me talk to her. What are you doing here, Ophelia?"

"I could ask you the same thing," said Ophelia.

"You shouldn't be here," said Sejanus. "It isn't safe."

"It isn't safe for you either," argued Ophelia, kneeling next to him.

"That's the point, Phee," said Sejanus.