In the Wake of the Tide: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 3

Keel lurched forward, freezing in both relief and horror as Andario continued his march up the stairs. One foot after another, each step getting heavier and heavier, Andario attempted to present pure confidence, or at least an air of boredom, but he didn't know at all if it was coming across. His sweaty hands were trembling at his sides, his jaw clacking together despite the heat. But as he reached the stage, he looked up and met Gabria's eyes, providing him with the faintest of smiles as he turned towards Ryx.
"Another volunteer!" Ryx called, delighted with this year's Reaping. "How wonderfully heroic! And what's your name, dear boy?"
Andario's mouth was dry. He struggled to make any noise. He knew the moment he opened his mouth, his voice would sound hoarse and he would stutter through his name. Because of this, he made sure to only address Ryx so the crowd and cameras could not pick up on his inability to muster words.
"Andario Bocaccio," he croaked out, barely audible to those on stage with him.
"Andario Bocaccio!" Ryx repeated with vigour, calling the name out to the audience. "A name to remember, I'm sure! And most certainly one the boy you volunteered for will remember, I'd say!"
Andario gave a slight nod, making sure to smile. He realized now that all eyes were on him, and he needed to perform perfectly in order to stand a chance in his self-imposed death sentence.
"Well, Andario, may fortune favour you!" Ryx cheerfully called, gesturing to the boys' podium. Andario took the hint. He faced the audience briefly, a sea of faces filled with his neighbours, coworkers, friends and family. He gave a slight bow within the dead silence, then turned and walked to his designated position. From the seats, he saw the three men's faces; Anguilla quizzically impressed, Mayor Galley lost and aloof, and Osman providing the biggest scowl Andario had ever seen. He felt discouraged with the old man's reaction, especially given he would be mentored under the victor's tutelage, and his sponsorships were reliant on his mentor's willingness to engage the interested parties. His stomach became taught, as though it had knotted itself from the nerves.
"Now," Ryx continued after Andario had settled in. "These two brave children will face off in the Hunger Games—"
Ryx halted his statement suddenly, leaving Andario confused until he trailed where Ryx's eyes had landed. From the crowd, an older lady dressed in a modest set of clothes was slowly walking up to the stage. She climbed the steps smoothly, as though she were perfectly floating upwards, and hovered near Ryx, whispering something in the Capitol man's ear. He looked shocked at first, but then seemingly found a new glorious opportunity for recognition, as his face glowed with content.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new development this year, never before seen!" Andario didn't think it possible, but Ryx had found a new pep in his step, his ocular body puffed out and his head held high, with every single blindingly white tooth showing. "We have another volunteer!"
Murmurs ran through the crowd, a state of quiet confusion settling over the Main Square. Andario was just as confused, wondering what the older lady could possibly volunteer for. Gabria had already stepped up as the female tribute this year, and the lady was past the final age to enroll. He observed her wavy greying hair, her sun-worn face, and her kind composure. He recognized her instantly, and an audible gasp escaped his lips.
"This year, District 4 will have two mentors, one for each of their tributes! The second mentor will be the one and only Mags Flanagan!"
Mags looked to Andario, providing a reassuring nod. She would look after him, he knew that was what she was trying to communicate. He felt like he was going to cry, but he steeled himself, as he did not want to look weak in front of the audience. Yet he continued to feel the catch in his throat as he grew increasingly grateful.
Andario heard a sigh of distaste behind him, followed by a line of disgruntled mumbles to which he identified as Osman. He heard no such dissatisfaction from Anguilla or Mayor Galley, the former presumably enjoying the spectacle while the latter was guaranteed to still have his head in the clouds. He watched as Mags passed behind him to join the other three men sitting at their chairs, giving him a smile as she went.
"What an eventful year!" Ryx was bouncing on the balls of his feet, clapping, like an excited child being given new toys. "This Reaping will definitely go down in history!" The escort composed himself, returning to his cheerful and professional persona. "As I was saying, these two brave children will be District 4's tributes in the 57th annual Hunger Games! They will face trials and tribulations, but based on what I've seen here today, they have an excellent shot in giving the others a run for their money!"
Andario thought the statement foolish. One look at him and anyone could tell that he would be useless in the Games. He'd be lucky to survive a day, let alone win the games! Even in Gabria's case, it was safe to assume she would be overpowered by the male career tributes of Districts 1 and 2, perhaps even more. That was, if her rash behaviour didn't end her first. She was guaranteed to survive the first day, he thought, but beyond that it was a gamble.
"Let's get a friendly handshake from the two tributes and give them a round of applause before they depart!" Ryx turned back and beckoned for Andario and Gabria to meet in front of the aquatic-like man. Gabria set off near instantly, as though executing orders set by a commanding officer, expertly presenting a smile and appealing to the crowd. Andario, on the other hand, faltered behind, having almost tripped up in his own feet, awkwardly waving off stage as he made his way to Gabria at centre stage.
When he approached, Gabria was still turned towards the audience. The instant she turned her face, Andario saw hostility in her face, hidden behind the joyous guise. He felt intimidated, threatened even. Sweat began to drip from his hairline. He attempted to grab Gabria's hand for the handshake, but couldn't divert his eyes from her fierce gaze, and missed her hand. He very quickly adjusted, and latched his clammy hand onto her dry and rugged one. They shook hands as the crowd gave a meager applause out of pity, Andario awkwardly panicked and Gabria seething from every possible angle beneath her contented mask.
Both of them were briskly escorted into the House of Justice by Peacekeepers as Ryx enthusiastically signed off. Gabria continued to give Andario a death glare as they walked through the massive doors, but he shamefully looked away until they were dragged down different directions of the long hallway. They threw him into a lavish room filled with plush plantation teal seats and carpet, a carefully engraved table with a singular leg resembling a fish holding it up, and generously designed paintings of each of the male victors. Albert Anguilla looked younger and unreadable as ever. The other District 4 male victor, Adrian Bardo, looked shy and awkward as he was in his Games. Osman Foley, younger in the painting like Anguilla, sported the same scowl Andario had grown to resent. He looked away from the painting, as he didn't want to continue seeing the old man's disappointment. He'd already experienced it countless times today.
Andario sat and waited, knowing that he received ten minutes with anyone who wanted to visit him. He hadn't imagined that the process had taken this long before, though, and impatiently tapped his fingers together as time passed. Finally, the doors opened, and in walked his parents. Podesta briskly approached, her arms crossed, while Deacon meandered in behind her.
"What were you thinking, Andario?!" Podesta demanded, pacing around the room. He was startled by her instant concern, as he didn't hear it often. He'd expected her to talk about how his Tide would guide him in his journey or some nonsense like that.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess I wasn't, and that was the issue."
"You idiot!" She exclaimed. Deacon approached from behind her, but she swatted him away. "Look what you've done! Look what you've gotten us into!"
"I know." She was right, he'd been stupid. It was a dumb spur of the moment decision. And now he had to pay for it. He felt defeated.
"Now we are going to look like fools in front of the Capitol!"
Andario felt dulled. The words were not at all what he was expecting, and he didn't know how to take it. He looked at his mother, shocked and hurt.
"You have absolutely no training!" Podesta continued, not even registering his face. "You haven't prepared for any of this! You looked like a fool up there, with your dumb little smile and your shaking hands!"
"Stop," he mumbled. He couldn't handle hearing these words come from his own mother.
"You haven't prepared for Capitol etiquette," she continued, growing increasingly aggravated by the minute. "You don't even know how to fight!"
"Stop." This time, he said it more clearly, tension carrying the words further into the room.
"You'll die, Andario!" She screamed. "You'll die within the first few minutes, or you'll die of hunger, or from eating the wrong food, and then we'll look like disgraces to the Capitol! We will lose our ranking in the Commune, Atlanta will lose her training, we'll lose our money, we'll—"
"Enough!" He screamed, pouncing up from the seat. His mother jumped back, and his father stood next to her, startled out of his head. Andario didn't care, though. He was done. "Get out."
Podesta blinked, trying to find the words she wanted to say. "How dare you yell at your parents like that! You have ruined us for life! You—"
"Get out!" He screamed, his face red, spit flying from his mouth. His parents stared at him as though he was an animal preying on their downfall. They seemingly prepared for escape, as Deacon's hand was already on the handle in fear of hostility, his other arm wrapped tight around Podesta. She continued to look at Andario, this time horrified. "Get out!" He screamed at them again. Deacon swiftly swung the door open and pushed Podesta out, although she didn't need the hand as she was already darting out the door. Just before Deacon left to join her, he hesitated. He didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge Andario's presence. All he said was, "good luck."
And he was gone, leaving Andario alone and furious. He stomped around the room, kicking at the chair until he felt the pain through his shoes. He violently threw his overcoat across the room, disgusted that he wore the very clothes Podesta chose to make them look like the ideal Capitol pawns. Atlanta was right, their parents really were the spineless heartless shrimp until the end, he thought. He sat on the chair and took deep breaths to try and collect himself as he waited for the next guest. He didn't have to wait long, though, as Atlanta knocked on the door and peeked her head through, her cheeks red from the tears she'd spilled beforehand. Andario hated to see her like that, but knew he would be the same if it was her in his place.
She walked in gracefully before flattening the creases on her dress and sitting next to him. They sat there in silence, taking in each other's features and creating a picture perfect memory. Andario knew they had both registered this might be the last time they spoke face to face, and neither of them wanted to forget. When Atlanta felt content with her memory, she drew him in for a hug that he gratefully accepted, clinging to her like she was his last hope of survival. He made sure to remember her scent, which was mainly her artificial strawberry perfume she got as a gift from Anguilla when she became the career tribute. What he enjoyed, though, was the smell of fresh Merlin's Loaves slightly offsetting the perfume, reminding him of the days they spent as children, happy and carefree. He felt tears well up as his chin rested on her shoulder, but he blinked them back. This was not the time to be weak. She needed him as much as he needed her.
"Dario," she said as she drew back. "What you did was really kind and brave."
"It was stupid," he mumbled back. He couldn't manage to meet her eyes, experiencing too much disappointment in himself for what he'd condemned them both to for the next week or so.
"Dario." She lifted his chin with her hand, forcing his eyes to meet hers. They were kind, like they always were, but the cheerfulness was gone, instead replaced by an intense seriousness. "It was kind and brave. You know that, I know that, Keel knows that, and the rest of District 4 knows it."
He stayed silent, still trying to hold the tears back. She took this opportunity to continue what she needed to say, evidently not wanting to waste a single second of their ten last minutes together.
"Mags is proud of you. The Odairs are proud of you. District 4 is proud of you." She paused, seemingly on the brink of tears yet again. "I'm proud of you," she said.
He smiled at her, appreciating her words and what she meant to convey. She was trying her hardest to be strong for him. She planned out what was going to be said. Atlanta wanted to get everything off her chest so he could get everything off his.
"Listen," she said, her tone serious and unwavering. "Mags will train you well. She has your back. You can get Gabria's support again, with a little effort. Make allies, do your best in the Training Centre, and survive. Come back to me."
He could only mumble his agreement, but that wasn't enough for her.
"You need to promise me. You will survive, and you will come back to me. I need to hear you say it."
He struggled to find his voice. He felt like one word and he would start sobbing, unable to stop. He briefly cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "I promise I will survive and come back to you," He croaked out.
Atlanta seemed content with this response. She pulled the necklace from around her neck, the one Albarus gave her, and laid it gently into his upturned hand. She then closed his hand around the locket and held on with both her hands. "I expect it back," she said, which got a light chuckle out of both of them.
"I'll have it back before you know it," he said.
She gave a solemn smile and pulled him back into a hug. They sat there for a while, in silence, before the Peacekeepers knocked on the door and she had to leave. He so desperately wished she could stay, but he wanted her here, in District 4, where she would be safer. As she reached the door, she turned around and gave him the same smile.
"I love you, Dario."
He smiled. "Love you too, Attie."
The use of her nickname helped her sense his sincerity. She turned and quickly left, but not before he watched as the first tear fell and bled into the carpet below.
He sat in the strange silence again, this time feeling comforted yet lonely. He wanted so badly to return to normal life. He didn't feel ready to say his final goodbyes. He rubbed his thumb over the engraved surface of the locket, finding the motion somewhat soothing. He hung it around his neck, so that he wouldn't forget it here in District 4. Then, the next round of visitors showed up.
He gave a cheerful smile as Finnick and Cordelia Odair came running for him, jumping into his arms. Cordelia was crying, while Finnick was oblivious to the circumstances. Their parents stood near the door, giving Andario a look of pity and sorrow. He talked with them all, attempting to cheer Cordelia up while entertaining Finnick's multitude of questions.
    "When will we see you again?" Finnick asked. This prompted a fresh flow of tears from Cordelia.
    "I don't know, bud," Andario responded. "Maybe soon."
    "Does that mean no dinner parties?" Finnick was referring to the countless evenings Andario spent over with the Odairs, which Cordelia generously called a party. He liked the dinners, as it was the only semblance of true family dinners he'd ever gotten. There was no silent treatment, no cursing each other out. Just cheerful laughter and delightful conversation.
    "No, not for a while, bud," Andario replied. He hesitated before continuing. "When I get back, though, we'll have a big dinner party where everyone in District 4 is invited. How about that?"
    "Yeah!" Finnick's young eyes sparkled as he bounced with joy.
    Cordelia was too wise for her age, as nothing Andario could say would convince her everything would be fine. He finally took her hand in his. "You care for your brother, okay?" He asked. "Can you do that for me?"
    She nodded through her sniffles, accepting it as a reasonable final request. It was the best he could offer as consolation, and she seemed to recognize his attempt.
    They remained a bit longer, Andario simply answering any questions the kids had or continuing any conversation topic they wanted to bring up. When their time had come, the Odairs gathered around the door and all bid him good luck before exiting the room. Andario grew more exhausted the more visitors he encountered, the emotional toll breaking him down one word at a time. His next visitors, though, shocked him.
    Mr. and Mrs. Dulse slowly hobbled in, seemingly shameful in some way. They stood in silence for the majority of their time, which Andario found tremendously uncomfortable. Finally, Mrs. Dulse walked over and laid a finely tied napkin on the table. Andario instantly recognized the smell of their traditional chocolate chip cookies.
    "Thank you," Mr. Dulse muttered. "You saved our boy."
    "He would have done it for me," Andario replied, even though he wasn't confident Keel actually would have had the tables been reversed.
    "We're sorry." Mrs. Dulse was fighting tears yet again, and Mr. Dulse was standing in silence at the back, but Andario saw the gratefulness in their eyes. Their baby boy was safe after being condemned to death. But the shame was still there, as though they felt it was their fault that he was in this position. They sat in silence, neither party knowing what to discuss, nor what to say. Finally, their time was up, and they left.
    There was not a large gap in time before Keel trailed into the room, having somewhat recovered from the experience. He walked in cautiously and shamefully, just as his parents did. Andario only saw the trembling boy he saved from being a tribute, no matter how composed Keel had managed to be.
    "Hi," Keel began, his voice wavering slightly.
    "Hi," Andario responded. He mentally prepared himself for the incoming barrage of thanks and apologies.
    Keel stood and stared down at his shoe, rubbing the side of his arm. He seemed uncomfortable, which made the atmosphere in the room very awkward. "I don't know what to say," he admitted. Andario remained silent, knowing the boy would find the words sooner or later. He'd definitely entered the room with some semblance of a plan, as otherwise he wouldn't have been there. If he did it out of obligation, he would have said thank you and went.
    "Why'd you do it?"
    Andario was surprised that those were the first words Keel said. He had to take a second to recover, to register the question wasn't a thank you, wasn't an apology, and wasn't a gift of gratitude. "I didn't have a reason in the first place," Andario responded. "It just happened."
    "But looking back," Keel pressed. "Why'd you do it?"
    He tore through the memories, trying to find any reasoning behind his actions. Had it been Keel, alone and trembling? Had he felt pity? Had he wanted to volunteer all along, to stay with Gabria? It only took him until the moment he climbed the stairs to recognize why.
    "You seemed so nervous. I didn't want you to deal with the stress of the games." It was a half-truth. Andario had felt pity for the boy, and had wanted to protect Keel from the games. But the selection of Keel was only the catalyst of his decision.
    "Oh, I see." Keel seemed disappointed, not in the response but in himself. He pinched at the skin around his elbow, and Andario couldn't tell if it was out of habit or out of punishment. He stood in silence for a while, the only noise being the light flick of his skin hitting his arm. "You're strong, Dario."
    Andario looked up from the cushion seam he had been staring at and gave the boy a puzzled look. Keel had not been doing anything like Andario thought he would. He felt different somehow. Unpredictable. Nothing like his parents' interaction.
    "I mean," he continued through the silence. "You volunteered for a coworker. I would consider us friends, but you always seemed closed off, so I could never really tell. And risking your life just for a fellow deckhand is a very big jump."
    Andario was surprised at how casually Keel had admitted considering him a friend. He had never really talked to the boy. Sure, they had a conversation every now and again, but they'd never really talked. Andario knew barely anything about the boy aside from his work on Tilda's Glory and at the bakery. And why bring up the friend perspective now?
    "You'll do fine," Keel said confidently. "You're strong. You'll be good in the Games. We'll see you back here in no time."
    Andario questioned if Keel felt any remorse for him. Any form of sympathy, or pity, or guilt. He walked in shamefully, but the boy had not spoken a word of it since he'd started the conversation.
    "I've always admired you," Keel continued. "You work hard, you're kind, you're brave, and you're capable. You can win the Games. I believe."
    Andario began to get slightly annoyed. He didn't need these words from the other deckhand. He'd already heard them from his sister. Keel was tarnishing her wonderful words.
    "Of course, the only person who could give you a run for your money is Gabria," Keel chuckled weakly. "Be careful with her, you know. She's a fighter."
    Andario's blood boiled. No apology, no grateful words, no remorse, and flaunting his chances in his face. Keel was trying to make it seem as though Andario wanted this, as though he'd planned it. Poor, perfect, prissy little Keel. Why else would he bring up Gabria? The boy was a fool.
    "But, I mean, if you could get her on your side—"
    "I don't care about you, Keel!" Andario blew up. Keel jumped back like a baby reacting to an explosion, back to trembling like he had been moments before Andario's foolish mistake. "I didn't volunteer for you! I could care less if you were dead!"
    Keel's eyes watered over, his body crunched against the wall to shy as far away from Andario as possible. He seemed genuinely terrified, but there was something more that Andario couldn't identify. His innocence, his blissfully ignorant demeanor, and his small, stick-like frame captured a young boy fearing for his life.
    The rage vanished from Andario like a fog being lifted from his eyes. He was instantly overcome with regret, horrified with what he had done. "I'm sorry," he said, dropping back into the chair, defeated.
    Keel slowly unwinded, the boy easing up the tension he felt from the confrontation. "It's okay," he mumbled weakly. But Andario could tell it wasn't. The damage had been done. Keel turned to the door, holding onto the handle as though for stability. He didn't leave, though, and instead he turned back to Andario.
    "Thank you." His voice was wavering, his tone cautious. "I appreciate what you did for me. And I'm sorry."
    Andario pressed his lips together and nodded, dropping his eyes from Keel's to the floor. He thought that would be where they left it; him freaking out and Keel cowering away. He felt ashamed of himself and his reaction, and part of him wanted the interaction to end. But Keel still had one thing remaining to check off his list.
    "I want you to have this," Keel stated. He shakily reached into his pocket and threw something onto the table in front of Andario. It was a small charm, carved out of driftwood in the shape of a fish. Andario picked it up and admired the intricate design, the details even descending down to individual scales. "Your sister said you'd like it"
    Andario held it up to Keel, giving a slight smile and nod. "Thank you."
    The boy gently opened the door, seemingly lingering for longer than he had planned himself. "I'm rooting for you," he muttered softly before slipping out, leaving Andario with his guilt and disappointment. He clung to the charm, still analyzing it as he berated himself for his stupid impulsive actions. First the volunteering, then degrading Keel. He had done nothing but hurt Keel, leaving the boy ridden with guilt and painful memories. He wrapped his fist around the charm and smacked it into his forehead, frustrated with himself. He couldn't afford to be this stupid in the Capitol, in the Games. He had to get it together. Keel forgave him, but strangers would not. Especially if he was the difference between life and death, or if he was purely entertainment. There was nothing entertaining about being insulted. He attached the charm to Atlanta's locket as a reminder of his shameful break in front of Keel, one that he would never allow again.
    Andario felt relief when Seb and Captain Leucostern poked their heads in, a break from the exhausting diplomatic visits. Even his sister needed him to be strong, so when he saw the two people he could be himself around, he gave a sad smile. They both concernedly rushed over, Seb drawing him in to a bear hug while Captain Leucostern laid her hand on his shoulder. Both of them had concern spread across their faces, with upturned eyebrows and pressed lips. They attentively sat with him while he took deep breaths to calm himself. Since the moment he had walked in the visitor room, it was the first time he'd felt safe.
    "What were you thinking?" Seb scoldingly whispered. "When I told you to not wait on Gabria, this isn't what I had in mind!" The Captain cleared her throat and threw up an eyebrow at the man, which allowed Seb to centre himself and pull back his aggressive words. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm just... I want you back here alive, Darry."
    Andario nodded understandingly. He figured this was as hard for Seb as it would have been for Mr. Dulse had Keel been the one sitting in the room. He gently patted the sailor's back as he started to feel tears drop from Seb's beard. He looked over to Captain Leucostern, who sat and gave a soft, caring look, concerned for the two in front of her.
"You were excellent out there," she said silently. "You held yourself as well as you do on Tilda's Glory. I could never be prouder."
Andario smiled at the generous words. It gave him confidence in how he presented himself at the Reaping. Knowing the Captain, she would only say what she honestly thought, and he felt that she would know a good public appearance when she saw it. Despite not being very close to the woman until recently, Andario felt more comfort in her words than he would his own parents.
"You looked all grown up," Seb whispered through sobs, still clinging to Andario. "You can do it. I believe."
"Thanks, guys," Andario replied over Seb's string of nonsensical muttering. "I appreciate it. I really do."
"We'll be watching," Captain Leucostern said. "We'll be cheering. Keep making us proud, Andario, even in the Games. Your position as deckhand will be waiting for when you get back."
They sat and chatted in a sadly cheerful way while Seb remained clutching Andario and sobbing. When their time ran out, the two bid him farewell, the Captain grabbing Seb's hand to guide him out. The older sailor turned to Andario, eyes glinting from the tears that ran down his face, a poor attempt at a smile spread across his face. "Get back to us, Darry. I can't lose both of you."
Andario realized Seb was referring to Albarus as the other loss just as the doors closed shut. For some reason, the statement resonated in Andario's chest, echoing the words over and over again in his heart. It was an ominous goodbye, but Andario understood. Albarus was as much of a son to Seb as he was. Seb was just as distraught by his passing as Andario was. If he lost the only other person he considered a son, Andario presumed the man would be broken, only supported by the Captain herself. He realized that he'd made many promises; to Keel, to Atlanta, to Seb. Many people were relying on him to survive. And he had to win.
Another knock on the door brought Andario back to the present. He was confused, as he'd already seen more people than he'd even expected would visit him. He watched as Albert Anguilla smoothly glided into the room, instantly gravitated towards the paintings of him and his fellow victors. The man tapped a cane against his hand as he walked. Andario suddenly grew suspicious, confused as to why the Tidespeaker wished to talk to him.
"I could never tell who they captured," Anguilla stated, analyzing his own painting. "Who is this young man?"
Andario questioned if Anguilla actually sought an answer or if the question was rhetorical. Had he developed dementia or amnesia?
"I was quite surprised by your heroic deed," Anguilla continued, trailing his eyes down the shorter hair he sported when he was younger. "It was impressive, but a shock nonetheless."
    "I'm glad you enjoyed the show," Andario shared blandly. Anguilla seemed amused by the statement, as he turned to look Andario in the eyes. The Tidespeaker seemed to be analyzing Andario as much as he had the painting.
    "Do you know what you've gotten yourself into?" Anguilla asked.
    "The Games," Andario replied simply. It was a simple question with a simple answer, he thought. It was stupid for the man to ask with such an obvious answer lingering over everyone's heads.
    "But do you know what the Games are?" Anguilla continued to interrogate. "Do you know what they mean?"
    Andario pondered the questions while staring down the man, attempting to piece together where the man was going. Anguilla was a victor. He knew more about the Games than any regular citizen would in District 4. He probably knew more than Capitol citizens, even. "No," Andario begrudgingly admitted. "I don't, I suppose."
    "Well, there's the physical and literal aspect," Anguilla said in a bore, waltzing through each word as though a game to tease Andario. "Kill or be killed, survival of the fittest, what have you. But there's also the mental aspects. The emotional aspects. The true Games."
    Andario's heart began to beat faster, beginning to feel somewhat threatened or intimidated by the words. "What are the true Games?" He asked cautiously.
    "What you've signed yourself up for," Anguilla stated matter-of-factly. "The true meaning behind the Games. The mental and emotional war the Capitol has waged against the Districts for the rebellion."
    Anguilla began to pace around Andario's seat, tapping the tip of the cane against the hard golden back of the chair. Andario stared at the doors in front of him, his pulse racing. He felt like prey being hunted with nowhere to run, Anguilla the predator encircling his next meal.
    "The Capitol want us to suffer," the Tidespeaker continued. "They want us to feel pain, so we will never consider independence again. The Games have always been mental games, meant to break our youngest and brightest, our oldest rebels, our families and friends. They're meant to divide us, to crush our souls, to squash out the light of hope."
    Anguilla paused in front of Andario. The man leaned down so that they were face to face, staring intensely with his piercing icy eyes. Andario pulled back into the plush seat as much as he could, but no matter how much the soft material engulfed him, he still felt like it wasn't far enough.
    "The worst of it is experienced by the tributes," he continued, speaking in a hushed tone that gave Andario chills. "You kill. You ravage. You do anything to survive. But one can never return unchanged. Once you enter the Games, you have suffered the Tide. And it is the dead that get out lucky."
    Anguilla stood up, looking down on Andario. "Do you think you have the mental fortitude to make it out?"
    Andario hadn't realized, but his fingers were white from clutching the arms of the seat so intensely. He tried to compose himself, to not make such a fool of himself in front of anyone, even the Tidespeaker. He straightened his posture and cleared his throat before taking a break and stating, "We'll see."
    "Indeed we shall," Anguilla stated ominously. He walked over to his portrait again, continuing his analysis. "I wonder if this boy was as confident as you are. And I wonder what it cost him to make it up here."
    With that, Anguilla left, leaving Andario haunted by the eerie warnings and words that remained hanging in the air.