୨୧ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ୨୧
THE MORNING SUN CAST A WARM GLOW ACROSS THE AVELINE DINING TABLE, where Seraphina sat adorned in her crisp Academy uniform, a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling within her.
Her parents, engaged in their usual morning conversation, seemed blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing in their daughter's mind.
As the aroma of breakfast filled the air, Seraphina couldn't shake off the lingering echo of the conversation she overheard with Coriolamus and Dean Highbottom.
The mention of a potential marriage pact with Festus Creed played on her mind like an ominous melody. She pondered the implications, the potential chains that could bind her in an alliance she had no intention of embracing.
A subtle tension marred the otherwise serene breakfast atmosphere.
Seraphina toyed with her utensils, her gaze often drifting towards her parents, searching for the right moment to broach the delicate subject.
She felt a surge of frustration, the desire to control her own destiny conflicting with the societal expectations placed upon her.
Despite her poised exterior, the internal turmoil threatened to spill over.
Seraphina yearned to assert herself, to voice her opinions on matters that concerned her future. Yet, the weight of tradition and the expectations of Capitol society loomed large, stifling her attempts to break free.
As the breakfast chatter continued around her, Seraphina grappled with the unspoken words that lingered on the tip of her tongue.
The prospect of confronting her parents about the supposed marriage pact with Festus left her torn between her desire for autonomy and the need to adhere to the Capitol's intricately woven tapestry of societal norms.
In the midst of the delicate dance of breakfast etiquette, Seraphina plotted her moves, a strategic mind seeking the opportune moment to address the looming shadows that threatened to obscure her path.
The dining table became a battlefield of unspoken desires and societal expectations, and Seraphina, clad in her red Academy uniform, was determined to navigate the intricate maze of her future.
As if he could read what she was thinking, her father looked at her before sighing, Abraxas took a moment to address the issue delicately.
His eyes, filled with paternal concern, locked onto Seraphina's as he spoke, "Seraphina, darling, your mother and I have been contemplating your future. After you graduate, you'll be heading to University, and eventually, you'll take over the family businesses"
"We believe in your potential for success, and we want to ensure that you have someone by your side who can offer support and benefit you in every way possible."
He paused, choosing his words with care, aware of the weight they carried. "Your friend Festus Creed is from a reputable family. Aligning yourself with the Creeds would not only strengthen your social standing but also provide you with a companion who can contribute significantly to your ambitions. We have your best interests at heart, my dear, and we believe this union would be beneficial for your future."
Seraphina listened to her father's words, her expression composed, yet the storm within her mind continued to churn.
The expectations placed upon her shoulders by her family clashed with the grander ambitions that danced like shadows in the recesses of her thoughts.
The idea of being bound to Festus in a marriage pact felt like a constraint on the intricate chessboard of her strategic maneuvers.
The morning breeze carried a sense of tension into the Aveline household, as the conversation at the breakfast table tiptoed around the looming topic.
Seraphina's emerald eyes betrayed an inner storm as her father, Abraxas, finally broached the subject, casually bringing up the notion of a marriage pact with Festus Creed.
"Seraphina, my dear, Festus is a fine young man. The Creeds are a respected family, and aligning ourselves with them could bring significant benefits to not only them but also your reputation," Abraxas repeated once more, his voice carrying the weight of familial expectations.
Seraphina's mind whirred with calculations as she delicately sipped her tea, contemplating how to navigate this intricate web.
Her parents, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing within their daughter, continued to extol the virtues of such an alliance.
"He's your friend, Seraphina. Marrying into the Creed family would not only solidify your social standing but also maintain a connection that could prove invaluable in the future," Her mother, Selene, chimed in, her eyes hopeful.
It's becoming repetitive, Seraphina thought.
However, Seraphina, the master of strategy, saw beyond the immediate gains. Her thoughts raced, envisioning a future far grander than the confined walls of the Creed household.
Festus Creed was a pawn in her grand game, a piece to be moved strategically, but not one she intended to be shackled to.
With a graceful poise that belied the intensity of her thoughts, Seraphina calmly responded, "Father, Mother, I appreciate your concern, but my ambitions reach beyond the immediate comforts of such a union. Festus is a dear friend, but my aspirations are set on a grander scale."
Her parents exchanged puzzled glances, prompting her father to inquire, "Seraphina, what could be grander than marrying into a family with old money and influence like ours? It's a move that has served our kind for generations."
Seraphina met her father's gaze, her emerald eyes unwavering.
"Coriolanus Snow," she declared, dropping the name like a bomb in the genteel morning air.
A moment of stunned silence followed her proclamation. Her parents exchanged bewildered glances, struggling to comprehend the revelation of their daughter's ambition.
"Coriolanus Snow? He was my first choice, however, the boy has been getting too soft with his tribute... everyone can see." Abraxas voiced out.
"Darling, he is a sweet boy. But, Seraphina, he's..." her mother began, unable to find the words to articulate her concerns.
Turning into a rebel sympathizer? Unlikely... Lucy Gray sympathizer, maybe. Seraphina thought to herself.
"He's ambitious," Seraphina interjected, her voice holding a steely resolve.
"Ambition, Mother, Father, is the currency of my future. Coryo is set on a path to presidency. We all know Coryo is the only one qualified to be and I intend to stand by his side."
"Coriolanus Snow is gonna make me Panem's First Lady," she smirked.
The revelation hung in the air, heavy with implications. Seraphina's heart, a battleground of conflicting emotions, yearned for the power and influence that she believed only Coriolanus could offer.
The pain of unrequited feelings simmered beneath the surface, masked by her unwavering determination to seize a destiny far grander than the confines of familial expectations.
Seraphina's father, ever astute, continued the conversation with a suggestion that held the weight of political pragmatism.
"I understand your desire for greater power, darling. But if you aim to be Panem's First Lady, why not consider Felix Ravinstill? True, he's currently on life support, but he's not dead. There's still a chance he might recover, and once he does, he will follow in his father's footsteps."
As her father spoke, Seraphina maintained an elegant composure, her emerald eyes betraying none of the internal turmoil.
Yet, beneath her composed exterior, a tempest of conflicting emotions churned.
The notion of marrying Felix Ravinstill felt like an encroachment on the carefully laid plans for Coriolanus Snow.
She couldn't allow anyone to disrupt his ascent to the presidency, for she harbored ambitions that transcended the mere title of First Lady... his First Lady.
The subtle movement of her snake mutt at the crook of her neck sent a shiver down her spine, a silent reminder of the power she possessed.
It sparked an idea in her calculating mind— tweaking the venom to eliminate Felix Ravinstill without leaving the telltale signs of the rainbow scales that marked the venomous attacks on Clemensia Dovecote... maybe not, too risky.
She'll figure out something else.
Seraphina's thoughts transformed into a sinister dance of possibilities, as she envisioned a future where her path to power remained unimpeded.
Offering a cryptic response to her father, Seraphina concealed her true intentions beneath layers of veiled language.
"Time will tell, father."
In that moment, Seraphina's thoughts cascaded into the intricate designs of her grand plan.
Felix Ravinstill, a pawn in the elaborate game she orchestrated, held a position of strategic importance.
As she concealed her true intentions behind a facade of familial duty, the serpent within her mind continued to weave the threads of calculated moves and clandestine alliances, all leading towards a future where Seraphina Aveline would ascend to the zenith of power.
The Heavensbee Hall buzzed with anticipation as mentors and select individuals gathered for another day of the Hunger Games.
The opulent hall, adorned with Capitol extravagance, echoed with hushed conversations and the rustle of Academy uniforms.
The Heavensbee Hall, a stage for the puppet masters of Panem, awaited the unfolding drama of the Hunger Games, where every move carried consequences that rippled through the intricate web of Capitol society.
Seraphina made her way to her seat and proceeded to place her communicuff on her wrist.
The raven-haired girl saw an increase in the tally of donations for Reaper; she later started clicking on her communipad, sending more food and water for her tribute.
At the stroke of eight, they all rose for the anthem and then Lucky Flickerman appeared, welcoming them to day two of the Hunger Games.
"Wakey, wakey, my Capitol friends. I'm Lucky Flickerman and welcome to day number two of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games. Now, while most of you were getting your beauty sleep last night, something scintillating occurred."
They cut back to the wide shot of the arena, and then slowly panned the camera round to the barricade, zooming in.
Marcus's body lay in the same place where he landed yesterday. A few feet away, Bobbin's battered form slumped against a chunk of concrete.
It looked much, much worse than he'd imagined. The bloody limbs, the dislodged eye, the face so swollen it was unrecognizable.
"Bobbin from District 8, slaughtered. Which of these beasts slayed Bobbin from District 8?" Lucky asked dramatically.
As if on cue, the 'beast that slayed Bobbin from District 8' placed himself on the seat next to Seraphina.
Seraphina's emerald eyes, a shade darker than before, lingered on Coriolanus.
Despite the tumult of conflicting emotions within her, a strange admiration welled up.
As Coriolanus settled into the seat next to her, Seraphina's internal conflict intensified.
Desire and resentment intermingled, forming a complex tapestry of emotions.
She couldn't escape the magnetic pull he exerted on her, a force that transcended the bitterness of their twisted history.
Coriolanus, seemingly oblivious, caught Seraphina's gaze fixed upon him.
Confusion etched across his features as he met her intense stare. In response, Seraphina inclined her head subtly toward the screen, where Bobbin's lifeless body lay in stark contrast to the polished opulence of the Heavensbee Hall.
Their unspoken exchange hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the calculated moves within the Games and the unspoken undercurrents of Capitol politics.
The dance continued a delicate interplay of power, desire, and the ever-present specter of betrayal.
"Either way, it doesn't matter. Ten tributes remain. Reaper, still at the top of the boards, the District 11 tribute, recently gifted food and water by his mentor, the lovely Seraphina Aveline." Lucky directed the camera at Seraphina and in turn, she smiled and gave the camera a small wave.
As Lysistrata approached, a whisper of frustration escaping her lips, Seraphina and Coriolanus sat side by side, their attention captured by the unfolding drama in the arena.
Lysistrata's words were a probing inquiry into the mysterious absence of the little boy's fate on the screen.
"They aren't showing us what happened to the little boy. He clearly was killed right there. There's cameras everywhere. It doesn't make sense," Lysistrata remarked, her frustration palpable.
She should really mind her own business and worry about her tribute instead, Seraphina rolled her eyes before turning to Lysistrata.
Seraphina, the picture of nonchalance, dismissed the concerns with a casual response.
"They said some cameras in the arena were old, Lyssie. Honestly, I don't know why they didn't just throw those junk away and use my father's tech instead." She huffed, brushing off the inconsistency with an air of Capitol arrogance.
"Coral probably killed him or someone from her Pack," Seraphina added, delivering the insinuation with a sly smile.
Her eyes met Coriolanus's, and there was a silent understanding— an unspoken agreement in the dance they played within the intricate web of Capitol politics.
Coriolanus, initially terrified that the truth might come to light, observed Seraphina with a mix of apprehension and fascination.
The ease with which she crafted a lie, weaving it into the fabric of their shared narrative, struck him with a peculiar admiration.
In that moment, his fears dissipated, replaced by a renewed sense of awe for the woman beside him.
As Seraphina smiled, Coriolanus felt a surge of gratitude and admiration.
She had shielded him once again, skillfully manipulating the narrative to align with their shared interests.
In the intricate dance of power and deceit, Seraphina had proven herself a valuable ally, and Coriolanus found himself drawn to the enigma she presented— a mix of beauty, intelligence, and a darkness that mirrored his own.
The screen unfolded a scene of disarray as Lucy Gray and Jessup appeared.
Jessup, the male tribute from District 12, looked more than just sickly; there was a disturbing quality to his demeanor as he began to stagger toward Lucy Gray.
Concern etched Coriolanus's features as he turned to Lysistrata, seeking an explanation.
"Lyssie, what is he doing?" Coriolanus asked, his worry evident in his tone.
Beside him, Seraphina observed in silence, her emerald eyes fixed on the unfolding drama.
"Something's wrong. He wouldn't turn on her like this," Lysistrata responded, rising from her seat.
Coriolanus, sensing the gravity of the situation, muttered to himself, "Go to the stands. Go to the stands."
"Jessup going after Lucy Gray." Lucky commentated.
"Both tributes from District 12. The same district folding in on itself."
As Lucky's commentary continued, detailing Jessup's pursuit of Lucy Gray, both tributes from District 12 caught in a perilous dance, Coriolanus watched the screen with a furrowed brow.
Seraphina, though silent, observed the unfolding events intently.
As the tension on the screen escalated, Seraphina's sharp eyes caught a detail— Jessup's foaming mouth.
Her gaze narrowed as she squinted, deducing the unsettling truth.
"He has rabies," she chimed in.
Seraphina's thoughts raced with the implications of the deadly disease in the confined space of the arena.
In the midst of the chaos, with Lucy Gray running for her life and Jessup succumbing to the ravages of rabies, Seraphina's mind worked swiftly, assessing the strategic opportunities that this unexpected turn of events might present.
"It's rabies," Seraphina said once more as if confirming her previous statement.
Coriolanus turned to Seraphina, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and realization.
"You're right. The foam... it is rabies," he affirmed, his voice carrying an undercurrent of concern.
Beside them, Lysistrata pieced together the puzzle, recalling a past conversation with Jessup.
"That bat bite. From that train," Lysistrata pointed out, solidifying the grim diagnosis.
Seraphina nodded, her mind working quickly to assess the situation.
"Not that it matters what had bitten Jessup; it is a death sentence anyway you slice it. He must have been infected about two weeks ago. He's done, he's dead." Seraphina remarked with a somber acknowledgment of the inevitable.
"It is fast, isn't it?" Coriolanus inquired about the speed of which the infection spreads, his gaze shifting between Seraphina and Lysistrata, searching for understanding.
"Very fast." Lysistrata nodded.
"Because he was bitten in the neck. The quicker it gets to the brain, the quicker he dies," Seraphina explained, her voice steady and clinical.
"And, of course, he's half-starved and weak." She looked at Coriolanus with an unspoken recognition of the brutal reality they were witnessing in the arena.
In the midst of this macabre revelation, Coriolanus found himself caught between the horror of Jessup's demise and the acknowledgment of Seraphina's astute analysis.
The unpredictable nature of the Games, coupled with the cruel twist brought about by rabies, added another layer of complexity to their already intricate situation in the arena.
Rabies had made a comeback in the Capitol during the war.
With doctors needed in the field, and facilities and supply lines compromised by the bombings, medical treatment had become sketchy for humans and almost nonexistent for the pampered Capitol pets.
Vaccinating your cat wasn't on the list of priorities when you couldn't scrape up enough money for bread.
How it began remained a matter of debate— an infected coyote from the mountains? A nocturnal encounter with a bat?— but the dogs spread it. Most of them were starving, abandoned casualties of the war themselves.
From dog to dog, and then to people. The virulent strain developed with unprecedented speed, killing over a dozen Capitol citizens before a vaccination program brought it under control.
The cameras tracked Lucy Gray as she sprinted across the arena and began to scramble up the broken wall into the stands holding the main press box.
Positioned midway in the arena, it occupied several rows and had somehow been spared in the bombing. She stopped a moment, panting, while she considered Jessup's erratic pursuit, and then she made for the debris of a nearby concession stand.
The skeleton of the frame remained, but the center had been blasted into bits and the roof had been flung thirty feet away.
Strewn with bricks and boards, the area presented a sort of obstacle course that she traversed until she planted herself at the top of the mess.
Jessup had made his way across the arena and seemed confused by Lucy Gray's rejection.
He began to climb after her into the stands, but he had trouble keeping his balance. As he entered the field of debris, his coordination diminished further, and twice he fell with great force, opening gashes on his knee and temple.
After the second wound, which generated a fair amount of blood, he sat, somewhat stunned, on a step, reaching out to her.
His mouth moved while the foam began dripping from his chin. Lucy Gray remained motionless, watching Jessup with a pained expression.
They created a strange tableau: a rabid boy, a trapped girl, bombed out building.
It suggested a tale that could only end in tragedy. Star-crossed lovers meeting their fate. A revenge story turned in on itself. A war saga that took no prisoners.
"Send him water," Coriolanus instructed Lysistrata, who looked at him with confusion etched on her face.
"Wait, what?" she asked, seeking clarification.
Coriolanus, with a grim understanding of the situation, elaborated, "You remember the posters in the war? Rabies. It makes you afraid of water. Send him a drone."
Lysistrata's eyes widened with a mix of comprehension and disbelief. "That'll scare him," she remarked, grappling with the gravity of the tactic.
Coriolanus nodded, his gaze fixed on the unfolding tragedy in the arena. "Yes. Away from her," he added, a subtle reference to Lucy Gray, the object of Jessup's irrational pursuit.
"Jessup is done, Lyssie," Seraphina commented, her tone laced with an unsettling calmness.
She continued to observe the screen, the desire for a tragic end to the spectacle evident in her focused gaze.
The tension in the room was palpable as the mentor and the students watched grappled with the grim reality of the Games.
"Lyssie, you're the only one that can get it right to him," Coriolanus pleaded, desperation seeping into his voice as he grasped Lysistrata's arm.
Seraphina couldn't help but roll her eyes at his display of vulnerability all for Lucy Gray.
Lysistrata, in response to Coriolanus's urgency, hesitantly yet swiftly moved to her communipad, fingers tapping on the screen to send the crucial water supply.
"Ms. Vickers, going for her communipad early," Lucky Flickerman's voice echoed in the background as he resumed his commentary.
"Thank you," Coriolanus expressed his gratitude to Lysistrata, his attention still riveted on the unfolding drama in the arena.
"Sending a drone," Lucky announced, the gravity of the situation reflected in his voice.
Lysistrata, after a momentary pause, looked up from her screen and retorted, "Nothing to be proud of."
Seraphina's eyes rolled again at the exchange, her indifference to the unfolding drama evident.
"He's as good as dead," she stated bluntly, the matter-of-fact tone revealing her acceptance of Jessup's inevitable demise due to rabies.
The air in the room hung heavyas they watched on the edge of their seats with bated breath.
A drone carrying a bottle of water flew into the arena, and Lucy Gray lifted her face to track its wobbly progress.
Her tongue flicked across her lips as if in anticipation. However, as it passed over Jessup's head, something registered and a shudder racked his body.
The water pooling out of the cracked bottle sent him into a state of heightened agitation.
Jessup froze, and his eyes bulged with fear. As the drone closed in on him, he pawed at them but failed to connect.
And then, he lost all control.
Explosive devices could not have elicited a stronger response, and the impact of the bottle smacking into him whipped him into a frenzy.
The contents of one splattered his hand, and he recoiled as if it were acid. Since they were directed to deliver right to the tribute, there was no escaping it.
As he hobbled to catch himself his foot caught, and he tripped backward, falling down on the arena's concrete floor.
The sound of snapping bones that accompanied his landing surprised the audience, as Jessup had landed in a rare pocket of the arena with good audio.
He lay on his back, motionless except for the heaving in his chest.
"Oh!" Lucky exclaimed as he watched the screen intently.
Lucy Gray approached him with caution and knelt just out of reach of his long arms.
Trying to smile, she said, "You go to sleep now, you hear, Jessup? You go on, it's my turn to stand guard."
Something seemed to register, her voice or perhaps the repetition of words she'd spoken to him over the past two weeks.
The rigidity eased in his face, and his eyelids fluttered. "That's right. Let yourself go. How are you going to dream if you don't go to sleep?" Lucy Gray scooted forward and laid a hand on his head.
"It's okay. I'll watch over you. I'm right here. I'm staying right here." Jessup stared at her fixedly as the life slowly ebbed out of his body and his chest became still.
Lysistrata bolted out of the Hall once Jessup took his final breaths while Coriolanus released a breath he had been holding.
Not long after that, Seraphina spotted them the same time Lucy Gray did...
Coral and her Pack were closing in on the little songbird.