CHAPTER ONE : calm

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     IT'S STILL DARK OUTSIDE when Evie wakes, still chilly enough that she shivers when she removes the blankets and places her bare feet on the floorboards.

     She sneaks out of bed as quietly as she can, not wanting to stir Finnick before his body tells him that he's ready to rise. She dresses in a neat, warm robe, secures her dark hair into a high ponytail, and lets herself out into the cool Spring air. She makes the journey out of the Victors' Village, down winding streets already busy with merchants readying their stalls for the day, and after a quarter of an hour of walking, comes to a stop at the back of the Delphie Bakery.

     At the door, she knocks thrice, then steps back and waits. A pan goes clattering to the floor inside moments before the door whips open, nearly smashing right into her.

     A young woman with brown skin and curly, dark hair pulled back from her face and covered with a hairnet stands in the doorway, a smear of white flour on her cheek.

     "Aha, right on time!"

     Dillan Alcrest steps back, allowing enough room for Evie to enter. The bakery's kitchen is warm and smells of freshly baked bread — salty and seaweedy, District 4's specialty. Evie removes her robe, folding it over her forearm, and takes a seat at a small hardwood table in the corner of the room while Dillan grabs a dish from the bench and plops it down in front of her.

     It's a green chocolate scroll, Evie's favourite pastry. A crispy dessert made with District 4's signature salty, green bread, drizzled with milk chocolate and thickened cream. It's part of the Capitol's version of a Continental Breakfast, but instead of foods from the varying continents of their planet, it's foods inspired by each of Panem's districts. District 12's food at the breakfast spread, for example, is a dark chocolate loaf baked until it's rock hard to the touch — like a lump of coal. Most of 12 can't afford a block of dark chocolate, let alone an entire loaf made of the stuff, but why should the Capitol worry about that when they can have some tasty treats?

     Dillan sits down at the other side of the table, scooping up her golden wedding band from the corner of the surface, where she'd placed it before she'd begun baking for the day, and begins to fiddle with it. "Sometimes I think you only like me for the food," Dillan hums, a cheeky smirk appearing on her lips.

     Evie raises an eyebrow as she takes a bite, smearing cream up into the space between her top lip and nostrils. "Well, you'd be mistaken, but it's certainly a bonus."

     Her accent is thick and virtually unidentifiable. Time spent between the poshly-accented Capitol and the less refined District 4, coupled with spending ample time with Nana and Auntie Baird, who'd snuck in from far away all those years ago and who have even thicker accents than those from 4, have transformed Evie's voice into something not found anywhere else in the country. Your voice is one of a kind, Nana Mags would tell her, back before she lost hers.

     Dillan leans across the table, tilting her head from side to side. She squints as she analyses Evie's face. "You didn't sleep well, did you?" she asks.

     The bags beneath Evie's eyes are dark enough that one could notice them from across Main Square, and the whites of her eyes are tinted pink. "It's Quell day," she says. It's explanation enough.

     With a sympathetic frown, Dillan reaches over to cup one of Evie's hands in hers and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be alright. With you and Finnick mentoring again, it'll be alright."

     "Finnick and I mentored last year and ended up with a twelve-year-old dead in the Bloodbath and a fifteen-year-old stung to death by Tracker Jackers." She sighs. "Even if we do win, we still lose one."

     Dillan nods, averting her gaze to the ground. "You're right, I'm sorry."

     Evie squeezes Dillan's hand back. "You didn't know. I'm glad you don't have to know."

     With a solemn smile, Dillan nods again, then goes to stand up. Bread is still baking in the ovens, not just the salty green kind, but regular white and wholegrain loaves and rolls, too. Why should District 9 have all the fun with bread, right? Dillan slips a pair of oven mitts over her hands and opens the door of the oven closest to the table, sending another wave of the bready smell through the bakery, raising the temperature indoors just that slight bit more.

     "Any idea what to expect?" Dillan asks, bringing a loaf of white bread over to the bench.

     Evie takes another bite of her scroll. She leans onto the table, rests her chin on the palm of her free hand and shakes her head, dark hair flicking her in the face. "Finnick thinks it'll be big, after last year."

     "I thought the twists were decided ages ago," says Dillan, bringing the bread slicer down on the loaf. Rows of sharp blades rip through the bread's crust like it's paper. For a moment, Evie thinks she sees blood spilling from the wounds. "That's what Russ told me, anyway."

     "I think that's what they want us to think," Evie counters. Dillan considers it with furrowed brows.

     Either way, they'll have to wait to find out. The announcement isn't for another six hours. It's barely morning, the sun has just started to appear, and weak rays of sunlight are finally beginning to shine through the bakery's eastern-facing windows. President Snow won't take the stage until midday, not until he's certain everyone in Panem will be awake and watching.

     Evie knows more than most about the previous Quarter Quells than the average person her age, given that Nana Mags mentored at both of those events. There was a year where tributes were selected by their own District, won by the girl from 8 who'd been voted in as a sick joke by her classmates, and a year with double the amount of tributes — four from each District rather than two — won by one of the boys from 12, now one of Evie's only real victor friends outside of 4. She'd not had the pleasure of meeting Townes Monroe — she'd fallen, some say jumped, off a cliff a handful of years after her victory, well before Evie had even been born.

     Not to say meeting Haymitch Abernathy was much of a pleasure, he'd reeked of alcohol and burped ( accidentally, mind you ) in Evie's face as he shook her hand. But, he's nice enough now that she's old enough to drink with him.

     So, what could the theme be this time? She's certainly considered enough options. Only adults reaped, to show that even the respected elders in our society can fall at the hand of war? Only girls reaped, to show that those we rely on to bring life into this world are also disposable?

     Members of the victor's families, to show that even success from one member isn't enough to keep a whole bloodline safe? Evie knows that firsthand, and she and Nana Mags still have family who haven't gone near the Games — namely Nana and Auntie Baird. She knows Katniss Everdeen from 12 has a sister, and President Snow would certainly find that a fitting punishment for the girl who's already causing talk of uprising throughout the country all because she wanted to save her sister in the first place.

     Including Evie and Nana Mags, District 4 has eight victors still alive. Oscar Pike had never married, choosing to fill his life with a revolving door of women instead of settling down with just one. He'd had no children ( none that he knows of, anyway ), was an only child, and his parents died after his Games. The last of Brook Farrell's siblings died nine years ago, and he'd never cared for women, or men for that matter. He'd always preferred isolation. Annie Cresta still has her parents and her little sister. Finnick still has his Mama.

     Icarus Brinley has three older brothers and his father. Fallon Wayne's husband passed away years ago, leaving only her daughter — who at this present moment is standing at the bench in the bakery that she owns. Dillan married Icarus over the Summer after the most recent Games had concluded. She had taken after her mother, refused to take her husband's surname, determined to show that they aren't property to take and change, that they won't bend to the will of Man. Dillan would be Dillan Alcrest, not Dillan Brinley, just as Fallon would be Fallon Wayne, not Fallon Alcrest.

     And, if all of that overthought can go into just one possibility of the Quell's theme...

     It could very much be a much simpler option. Evie hopes it will be. Auntie Barb Azure is in her eighties, Nana Maude Ivory is in her seventies. They don't stand a chance in an arena.

     "You should probably go if you want to be home before Finnick wakes up," Dillan says, bringing Evie out of her daze.

     Evie checks the analogue clock on the wall. It's almost 7 o'clock, she's been out for nearly forty-five minutes now. The bakery will be opening soon, and during the Games' off-season, Finnick has been averaging waking up at around quarter past. That gives her just enough time to get back to surprise him with breakfast if she leaves now. Dillan's already got a brown paper bag set out on the bench with Finnick's name on it.

     She stands, shovelling the last bite of her scroll into her mouth, and grabs the paper bag after slipping her robe back on. It's warm in the kitchen, but this part of District 4 still hasn't got the memo that it's not Winter anymore, and she's only got a t-shirt on, which will offer no protection from the cold. "You're my favourite," she tells Dillan as she opens the back door.

"Oh, yeah? You'll sing me a song for my birthday then?"

With a snort, Evie rolls her eyes. "Not unless you pay me."

"I give you free food!" Dillan argues.

Half on the back step, her weight shifting between her good and bad legs, Evie raises her hands in defence. "Okay, okay. How about this? I love you, my dear, do you hear? Do you hear?" Dillan grabs a tea towel and raises her eyebrows. She knows what's coming next. On one note, Evie finishes her 'song'. "I'm not singing any more unless you give me a dollar."

Dillan chucks the towel at a cackling Evie, hitting her square in the face. "I'm telling Russ!"

"What's he gonna do? Scold me?" With a genuine, gracious smile, Evie bows her head and steps outside fully, readying herself to stagger her way back to her house. She didn't bring her walking cane with her, knowing she might need both of her hands on the walk back if she didn't finish her own breakfast at the bakery. She turns her body to leave but leaves her head facing Dillan. "'sides, a songbird don't sing when she's told."

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a/n:
look i didn't mean to make evie sky and dillan girlfriend coded so,,,
i mean let's go lesbians but they are both in committed relationships w men

published : november 21, 2023
word count : 1.9k