The Fourth Annual Writer Games: Canon

The Ashes | Entries

District One – Dioria Rose

None of this is happening how she thought it would.

When Dioria first pictured herself as the last Career standing, she imagined a cannon after she pierced her daggers through Dacre's stomach, or once she eased the pressure off the ribbon used to strangle him. She expected that the titles of Last Career and Victor would be synonymous, that her victory over her pack would be her last and greatest triumph. Not once did Dioria pause and think to herself that being the last Career left alive would mean looking over her shoulder at every other moment, surrounded by the forest and the tributes within it as she tries to guard the Cornucopia and its supplies without any backup. She never prepared for the possibility that Maur Verrill, the enigma from Two, would still be out there somewhere, so much more of a threat now that she has no allies. She never expected herself to be afraid.

Dioria Rose prefers gold to butter, Dijon to honey. She likes her yellows strong, thinks that anything less is a waste of pigment. Her hair is the one exception to this rule, and that's only because it's strong in its own way; it stands out against the rest of the district, and it's pale enough to startle. Hence, it is good enough. But the title of last Career, which she'd imagined as a shimmering medallion, has turned out to be a muted banana yellow. This, she will not tolerate.

She should go out and find Maur, end this now. After that, the rest of the Games would be a cakewalk. Or, she could go out and take out the other tributes, those she doesn't bother to remember. They're unpredictable, variables, and with them out of the way she can focus on her true foe. But Dioria does none of these things. Instead, she walks the area where the bloodbath once took place, the place where she felt so powerful that nothing could have worried her, and she twirls her daggers. It almost looks like dancing, but there's no show in the movement. It could be training, only she puts no aggression in her motion. She simply acts, fuses with her body, does. Dioria learned long ago, back in training, that the only time her mind ever goes still is when she fights. She's done this same routine for years before every key event. This particular combination of twists and turns, jabs and slashes, resembles the one she did before the Reaping Tournament, but she doesn't think about that. She doesn't think about anything. For a rare moment, she just is.

Perhaps this is why the young girl from Eight decides to make a go at her supplies. That's her mistake: Dioria may not be thinking right now, but she's still aware of every blade of grass around her and the thin layer of dust atop it. She's hyperconscious in that way that only occurs when one is at unity with the world around them. She doesn't think, but she sees.

Dioria doesn't recognize her at first, not until she notices the small '8' engraved on the girl's shoulder, and by then the girl lies crumpled on the ground, a knife sticking out of her back. Instructor Waldorf has told her, years ago, that anyone who doesn't carry multiple weapons in the Games is a fool and is destined for death. So, Dioria keeps a knife tucked in each boot, ready to throw it should an emergency occur. A cannon sounds – eight left, Dioria notes. The girl from Eight never had a chance, not with Dioria awake and all too aware of the sheer amount of supplies still stocked in the Cornucopia. The food has gone bad, sure, but the weapons are still good. As are the medical kits and the fire-starting kits and the blankets that are still in most of the packs stockpiled inside the horn of plenty.

Food. Dioria's stomach grumbles at the thought. She rips a piece of bark off a nearby tree and chews on it. It hardly counts as eating, especially since she isn't swallowing anything, but for a few moments it fools her stomach. She used to do this on some of her worst diets, biting her nails to trick her brain into thinking it was eating. Who would've thought it'd be a useful trick to know in the arena?