nepenthe (n.) - an ancient Greek word, defined as a medicine for sorrow. it is a place, a person or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering.
━
Leora always knew her stealing would get her into trouble one day. That's okay, she lov...
DEAD ACADEMY STUDENTS, AGAIN, MEAN ANOTHER FUNERAL. This time, the tributes are separated by sex and chained up inside two caged trucks. Even though it has only been a day since the bombing, the Capitol has gone all out. It feels like the efforts for this funeral have doubled, if not tripled, in comparison to the one just two days ago. There are more Peacekeepers, longer speeches by President Ravinstill that even the tributes get to hear, and it’s hard to shake off the feeling that something here is terribly, terribly wrong.
Leora doesn’t listen to any of it. Throughout the entire funeral procession, she only really acknowledges the dead bodies. The dead Academy students—twins, apparently—are put to rest in two identical coffins. Their heads lay on pillows for all eternity, while Ginnee’s body is draped over a horseback.
Then, the tributes who seeked freedom. Facet, Velvereen, and Sabyn, dragged by the horses. The pair from One were shot during their attempt to escape the bombing, and Sabyn’s body has been found near the river separating the island the arena is on from the rest of the Capitol. Security efforts have increased significantly, and the endless parade of Peacekeepers is a thorn in Leora’s eyes.
Not even in death are the deceased children treated with respect. Only their own. Once again, the unfairness of Panem’s one and only reality knocks Leora out with a force she has never encountered before.
It’s one thing to hear of the way the Capitol thinks of the people in the districts, but it’s certainly another to see their inhumanity displayed up close. It’s morbid and utterly hypocritical how they think the tributes’ origins justify their treatment.
At the end of the day, they were also just someone’s child. Somebody’s baby. Someone out there in Panem raised these children with love and care. Someone sang a lullaby to them at night when they couldn’t sleep. Someone taught them how to walk and talk. Someone held these children after they had a nightmare. Someone wanted to see their child grow up and flourish as much as the country would allow them to, or even beyond.
The children in the Capitol and in the districts have all of these things in common. And yet, the Capitol is taking twenty-four children away from their families and loved ones every single year, only for one of them to return.
Leora can’t help but think it’s for the better that Five has never had a victor. Because if this is what the Capitol is capable of doing to children, she doesn’t want to know what it must be like to be the only survivor.
