From the Ashes ㅡThe Hunger Games

From the Ashes: Prologue

| FROM   t h e ASHES  |
prologue

. . .

     Lorelei stood in front of her office window, one great crystal panel of spotless glass that overlooked the entirety of the Capitol. Her countenance was a picture of unfractured calm, calculative confidence. Her raven hair, the same shade as her suit, had been slicked back into an immaculate ponytail. Her cold blue eyes, two chips of ice in her pale face, were lined in charcoal, making her seem all the more menacing. Everything about her was sharp and frigid.

Tamilie teetered uncertainly in her orange platforms behind Lorelei's desk, clutching a clipboard to her chest like a lifeline. The president terrified her half to death. Which was inconvenient, considering they'd appointed her as Lorelei's new advisor. Rumor had it, Lorelei murdered the last one for putting too much cream in her coffee. Though there was no way Tamalie could confirm this, it's just what she'd heard through the grapevine. But she believed it, no less. Lorelei looked like someone  who'd slip poison into your tea (which is what they'd said she'd done to the last advisor.) with her paper white skin, her talon like nails, dressed head to toe in black. Even her office was black. Which made it feel more like a dungeon, really. Or maybe a vampire's lair.

Tamalie goes to speak, only to find that her voice had thinned and her throat had dried. Somehow she could feel the intensity of Lorelei's eyes even though the president's back was towards her. She takes a moment to gather her bearings, push a twirl of her tangerine hair behind her ear, and tries again.

"I don't mean to question your authority, Ma'am." Tamalie begins carefully, her voice still unsure.

"That usually means my authority is about to be questioned." Lorelei speaks without turning around. Her words, and the chilliness of them, do nothing to ease Tamalie's apprehension. She grips onto the clipboard harder.

"It's not me, ma'am." The young woman says, hoping Lorelei won't poison her tea for this, or stab her with one of her claws. Damn whoever voted her in for advisor. Damn them all to hell. "I'm speaking on the behalf of the other members of the Capitol Council, and the Gamemakers. They disagree with your suggested theme for this year's quarter quell. They think it to be unwise."

Lorelei honed her voice like one would hone a sword. A really sharp sword. "Do they now?"

Tamalie, still staring at president Lorelei Daphnes' back, swallows down all the wayward rocks that have somehow ended up in her windpipe. "Miss, it's just, they don't think targeting children of wealth and status will go over well with the districts."

This year would signify the fourth quarter quell; the 100th annual Hunger Games. The first quell since the 75th games. The first quell since the great rebellion, and the fall of the Capitol.

Justice for the districts had run its course over a fifty year period, and the games had ceased in the time after the Mockingjay's success. But that period had not lasted forever. Eventually Capitol loyalists, and other powerful supporters of districts One and Two banded together to revive the old systems after Katniss Everdeen's passing and president Paylor's assassination. Another war followed, naturally, but reforms were successfully made, the districts beaten into submission. Lorelei's father had taken up presidency at the beginning, but after he died, Lorelei had taken over. She was even more ruthless and terrifying than her father, Albanius Daphnes, had been.

And now, among the New Capitol's greatest allies, were the wealthy status holders in the districts. Perhaps not all, but many. Mayors, head peacekeepers, etcetera. And now Lorelei wanted to pluck up their children and toss them into an arena.

Tamalie was no politician (So, God, why had they picked her for this job?) but even she didn't quite understand the president's motives with this decision. It seemed extremely detrimental to be killing off the kids of the people who are supposed to be your supporters. What better way to cause controversy? Or anger? Or, heavens forbid, rebellion?

For the first time, Lorelei turns away from the window to look at her orange-haired advisor. Tamalie feels herself shrink under the scrutiny of the woman's ice cold eyes, and for a second feels herself shrink under the horror that maybe Lorelei had read her thoughts. Now that would really get her a splash of nightlock juice in her chamomile.

"Typical." Lorelei says, and though her voice is cold, she sounds bored. "The Council and I never really see eye to eye. I didn't expect them to agree with me. They fail to comprehend my reasoning. The lot of them are unbearably dense. I should put them in the arena."

Tamalie says nothing; what was she supposed to say?

Lorelei meets her advisors silence with a crescent of a smile, her sinister red lips curling up. This unsettles Tamalie exponentially. "What do you think, dear? I'd like to hear what your theories are about my decision for this year's games."

Dear. Tamalie feels her skin crawl. Nobody but her grandmother called her dear. Lorelei looked only to be in her late thirties, maybe forties, but was most certainly too young to be calling her dear.

"Uhm," Tami stammers, having not expected to be asked such a question. "To keep the districts in line?" That seemed to be the rhyme of reason to most the things Lorelei did.

"Precisely!" Lorelei claps her long, willowy hands together and Tamalie is caught off guard at the president's sudden delight.

A brief moment of quietude settles between the two women before Lorelei speaks again.

"That's the thing, about the rich and privileged and beautiful. They think they're exempt. They think they're special." Lorelei says. "That was a factor in the Capitol's past downfalls. Letting citizens become too comfortable in their positions. They forget who really calls the shots."

Tamalie has found herself engulfed by silence once more. A void where words should be. She hasn't a clue how to respond, and her knuckles have turned white as she grips her clipboard. She really just wants to leave this bleak office and go about the rest of her day. Clearly the president required no advising at all.

"The districts have extinguished us once. But we've risen from the ashes." Lorelei says, her crystal orbs darkening a shade or two. "Now is our time to extinguish them. Now the games truly begin."

Tamalie swallows again.

Welcome to the 100th annual Hunger Games, she thinks. Terrified on behalf of all the children who'd find themselves in this year's games. May the odds be ever in your favor.

. . .

Author's note

Hi guys!! I hope you enjoyed this little introductory chapter; next im going to upload the sponsor form and the tribute profiles. This fanfic is entirely based on OCs and all the tributes are basically the main characters. Chapters will vary from POV to POV, and YOU the readers, will have a crucial part in determining who will be the victor (; i hope you all are as ready for this as i am!

Ps; i lmao this chapter was more or less in 3rd person but a good bulk of the story will be told in 1st person. Just a heads up (: