arise /mourn's speech [90th]

[✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]

m o u r n .

Holy words laying like lace on a velvet collar, smoothed carefully down with a gloved hand, "You don't have to do this," she tells him, "You already do enough for this district."

Mourn smiles, his hand finds Esther's at his neck and he takes it, cupping it gently against his own cheek. "How could I deny you the honour of mayor's wife?" he teases gently. Her expression holds against his playful tone, serious as ever and Mourn's smile fades a little. "We'll be okay," he says.

There are parts of him that mean that. Pieces of him still ache, the wound of Fleur's loss has never quite healed and Nowles' is still too fresh, the bleeding has barely slowed enough for it to be stitched together.

He pulls Esther's palm over his mouth and kisses the skin there gently. "Wish me luck?" he asks. The crowd past the curtain on the stage set for the speeches in the square has only grown louder in the past half hour. It's decidedly a spectacle for the man who backed Shiv Irvine last election to announce a campaign against her this time around. At the very least it's drawn a crowd.

"Tell me I'm doing the right thing," he whispers, and shuts his eyes against her steady gaze. There's a part of him that feels fear over all of it, that knows he's begun a journey that there's no returning from.

"I love you," Esther says and he understands it as a thousand different things.

m o u r n .

Mourn steps through the curtain onto the stage and is greeted by a loud roar of support. The Adroxis factory employs half the district, the manufacturing of their guns has long been a source of pride for Nine. Their weapons have made it to the farthest reaches of Panem, from before the dark days until now, the Adroxis name has always carried weight. Mourn's shown time and time again that he can bear it.

He crosses to centre stage and the statue in the fountain in the centre of the games square calls his attention. Babe Adroxis gazes back at him from across the way, serious expression cast in bronze. The first victor from Nine, the winner of the third games. He had cemented the Adroxis name in history, now it's up to Mourn to honour it.

How tired Atlas must be from holding up the sky.

"Greetings," he says, and smiles at the crowd as they cheer back at him, "For those of you that don't know me, I am Mourn Adroxis." There are familiar faces interspersed throughout and the current Patriarch of the Adroxis line takes the time to wave at each one. People who have fed their families for generations hold up signs and wave banners in his name.

"The name may sound familiar. Of course, you all know my grandfather, Babe," he says and gestures towards the statue, "As well as my late nieces, Fleur and Nowles, both Adroxis daughters that did our humble district proud." A roar of agreement fills the square again and this time Mourn does not try to quiet them. Nowles hasn't even been buried yet, her body is still in the Capitol waiting to come home. The wound still bleeds.

"It is difficult to describe the burden of their loss," he begins again softly and a hush falls over the crowd in order to hear him. "Those of you that have lost a child or a loved one to the games know what this pain feels like, the way it holds you down to the point where it is difficult to make the choice to get out of bed in the morning. Believe me, I understand it. For too long now, we have been paying a debt long paid."

Mourn pauses and the crowd holds its silence. This does not sound like a normal campaign speech. There are no promises being delivered, no carefully spun words of reassuring understanding. "Aren't you tired of it?" he asks.

A soft murmuring begins at the core of the gathering.

"It is my intention to work towards a day where none of you will ever have to experience this pain again," Mourn Adroxis says carefully and holds the gaze of various people in the crowd. "Our district has never been known to be docile. Time and again, the Capitol has sent their peacekeepers here to quell us. The pattern remains the same, we fall back, we bide our time. Where once united, we turn on each other again and fight over territory. We claim neighbourhoods, we spill each other's blood over petty feuds and all the while the Capitol laughs. We make their work easy by taking out each other before they can send their troops to finish the job."

Tension grows in the square as he speaks and he can feel the crowd with him, understanding dawning on some of their faces as they decipher his words. He pulls his coat jacket to the side slowly and reveals a sunflower instead of an Adroxis gun in the holster on his chest.

"There was a time when we stood united with one common goal. If you vote me as mayor I will make it so again. No more hiding, no more biding our time, we'll show Panem our strength as a district, proven time and time again by our skilled tributes. We'll show them that it's not just the career districts that they should fear. We will show all of Panem, just how ruthless we can be."

He steps forward, a charming smile on his lips but a cold fire in his gaze.

"And it will be their turn to Mourn."