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𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞-𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬. . .
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓'𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒, 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄. The four of them have gathered, forming a semi-circle about the television, awaiting the news with bated breath.
"As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors"
One by one, they recoiled, bodies reacting to the words before their minds could keep up, shuddering where they sat. And then like dominoes, each victor found themselves burst into their own fits, worrying their lips and clenching their fists as the truth of it all stuck.
They were Ten's only victors. Two of them would be re-entering the Games.
Yarrow breathed a heavy sigh, and seemed to sink further into the couch, pressing his palms against his forehead. For a moment, it seemed he'd react silently, keeping the drama and the pain in his head, but what followed his descent into the sofa, was a loud, ringing sob. Tears began to fill his eyes, obscuring his vision, as he moved to bury his head in his hands. He allowed himself to weep.
Fern, in a very un-Fern-like manner, followed after him. She began to sob, each heavy breath of tears and whines growing heavier and heartier until finally the only noises capable of escaping her lips were banshee screams. Fern rose from her spot beside Yarrow, lashing out on the hard wooden floors with a heavy, mean set of stompts upon the weak panels. Her eyes, so dark, and often too dangerous, darted back and forth about the room, seeking out ammunition.
First to the table, stealing the plate which had previously carried a bundle of jam biscuits, and pitching it at the hologram in front of them, and then a mug, and then without any more ceramic homewares left to throw, she stuck her fingers deep into the mess of black curls on her head and tugged!
Skinner acted out in loud bursts of profanity, kicking the table as he swore, "Fuck, shit! Fucking Fuck Fuck Fuck!"
He looked ready to run outside, but forced himself to pause and look around the room, taking in his mentors, and then finally, turning to Lucy.
Lucy who remained completely and totally still. As still as stone. Her reaction came in stages: one quiver of the lip setting off a chain reaction of her body. First her hands shook atop her knees, then the jumping of her leg, and then, of course, the tears.
