e flat minor {kirito and beatriz} 70th vt

[D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]]

I longed for one of them to win.

The Doctrines.

Sue Tate, Wyatt O'Connor, Noah Bowers and Maya Xiaoqing.

A team, linked arms yet all somehow fighting for the same crown whilst friendship grew like ivy up their beings. One, two days, they managed to be together. Peaceful and comforted by one another. No severity or excruciating pain: just each another for one another.

The third day hit like a storm. The rain came in and washed away Noah Bowers, lightning struck to take Maya from me and the day was filled with destruction in the true sense of the word. Blood and knives and loss of eyes and inevitably: death.

And for the remaining two: Sue Tate and Wyatt O'Connor, there was more bloodshed to come. They survived it, they fought to live like the survivors they were to prove a point to the gamesmakers. You could see the hope in their sunken eyes.

But thunder shook and stole another: Sue Tate. Gone too soon from this world.

And as time drew past like lines by a child, it all came down to two. Kirito Miristioma and Wyatt O'Connor. I swore to myself that I wouldn't care who won, I swore that Maya's passing wouldn't affect my opinions on the others, but it was him.

Wyatt O'Connor and Kirito Miristioma.

He was the one who killed the girl Rowan Combe.

And it was when I saw them on the tiddly television screen that my fires began to burn inside me. A hunger, a desperate thirst for Wyatt O'Connor to win which could only be quenched by such. And though the odds were stacked up against him and sponsors seemed to like the other boy more there was something inside me which thought he could do it.

That he could win.

My eyes were pinpointed of him, I sent a prayer in hopes that he'd be protected. But a girl from nine isn't meant to see miracles happen, only the opposite. So I watched as Kirito Miristioma twirled around and cut, cut, cut his way into Wyatt.

There was red from both parties, yet Kirito created an ocean like no other.

My mind ran crazy just looking at the screen, seeing another body on the ground waiting to be picked up and sent back home. A prize for a tremendous effort, but a prize topped only by survival.

Kirito Miristioma.

----

District Nine hasn't seen itself produce a victor since Colgate O'Leary, and whilst such an event was only four years ago, hope still managed to diminish from us. Our tributes since hadn't done particularly well at all because they were beaten by others: Leon Krigel and Patricia Valfierno and Katelyn Persimmon and Kirito Miristioma. 

It doesn't make sense when you look at it plainly. Someone who has been there, done that, got the t-shirt can't train and teach a tribute to do what they did. It's an enigma waiting to be solved, and with the addition of Kirito Miristioma joining the collective of victors, I feel like District Eleven has defied the odds.

Katelyn Persimmon: District Eleven. Kirito Miristioma: District Eleven. I want to know what she told him, if she told him anything, or whether he just relied on luck to carry him through these games and out the other side.

Because when you're on the outside, that's what winning the games looks like: pure luck.

Katelyn visited our District during her victory tour, most likely to converse with Colgate O'Leary so they can discuss their misfortunes. I sympathise for them all, the victors, but they aren't the ones who suffered the pain.

They delivered it.

Perhaps it's a misconception that the victors are expected to teach and help. If I were them, I'd give up with the victory tour and try to figure out how I'd see the next one out alive. I wouldn't waste my time waving to the crowds who've had to see their friend, their citizen, their sister die so they could win.

We stare up at the Justice Building, haunted by the memories of what happen to Maya in that arena, her face pasted in ghostly shades of black and white like there's no tomorrow. The pride of our family, a representation of what it took to come, to see and to conquer whilst battling death.

My eyes widen, staring at the shadow which makes its way on stage. The pictures of Maya are quickly replaced by something monstrous: Kirito Miristioma. The little boy from District Eleven who had luck on his side, who had sponsors under his belt, who killed Rowan Combe, who killed Wyatt O'Connor without thinking twice.

I don't want to hear the dribble which will come out of his mouth. He can try to apologise for her death, but we'll look at him with broken, glassy eyes which can still look right through him. 

It was his sword which delivered the final blow to end to 70th Hunger Games, but it could be his words which start a war.

[Arrows]

kirito

victor of the 70th hunger games

The video flickered slightly as the train once again rolled to a stop at a planned refueling station. However instead of rising from his sheets and venturing into the night air Kirito remained in his bed with his eyes glued to the monitor. Blood showered across the various screens as Key's body fell to the ground with a heart breaking thud. Yet Kirito didn't even flinch at the horrid scene. Too many times he had watched the tape of his own games to be surprised. Kirito knew every single detail whether big or small about the games. In fact he could probably recite it like a story on spot if he needed to. 

Kirito's own voice brought his full attention back to the screen as the storm whirled around him and Wyatt. Blow after blow was dealt as Kirito's fingers ran gently over the ridges of the healing wounds on his chest. Finally Kirito watched Wyatt fall and himself dart out of the factory. Trumpets filled the air as Kirito was announced Victor and then of course the video flicked off leaving Kirito in the crushing gravity of silence. 

Kirito's hand quickly found the valve to the morphine that coursed through his veins in excessive amounts and he opened it even more. Even though Kirito's body numbed his mind only ever dulled. Thoughts of Rhyme, Key, Circe, Olivia, Imp, and every possible tribute still rushed through his mind constantly. However Kirito had learned to come to terms with his actions thanks to Katelyn. No longer did he mourn he only remembered and carried on. Living for them was better than letting them die for nothing. 

Sleep seemed to have wrapped its claws around Kirito quickly as he found himself awake hours later. Squawks from Zell and his styling team sent waves of annoyance through Kirito's aching head as he stumbled out of his room. As he expected he was devoured by their hands poking and prodding him with make up and clothing until he was finally finished. What he saw just made him sigh. A typical crimson suit with black edging just made him want to be sick. He looked so fancy and special but he wasn't. Kirito knew he was simply a survivor.

Breaks hissed through the still air as his feet carried him to the train exit. Kirito didn't hesitate to exit the train the moment he stopped. All around him factories and buildings reached towards the sun that surely was baking the workers in eleven's backs right now. The sight was unique compared to what Kirito had seen since buildings were so rare in the lower lower districts. Here they seemed to have a plethora.

As the ride through the streets went underway Kirito couldn't help but notice all the poor around as well. Just like in District Eleven people here were sick and poorly clothed. They were left to die and now they had to listen to the boy who survived instead of Maya. Maya, a girl Kirito had never truly met but understood exactly how she died. The whole thought was sickening but in a way at least he just didn't know anything about her. At least he some what cared unlike others probably did.

Mingled voices along with the din of the crowd licked Kirito's ears as he stood in front of them all. Directly before him Kiritos gaze saw Maya shimmering brightly with what appeared to be a quite judgmental sister below. However Kirito couldn't blame her for he was sure Ikaia would have done the same to Maya if not worse. 

Shakily Kirito tapped the mic for silence as he began his speech. "Hello as I am sure y'all are aware I am Kirito Miristioma. I would like to start off by first sayin' that Maya was an incredibly strong person. To just have to face the odds of being alone from her district was challengin. Yet then she went out and battled so fiercely to win the bloodbath deserves complete respect from meh an' everyone. Now I neva' talked to Maya so I can' come here an' say that I knew her when I don'. But from what I could tell she had the will to survive. I do believe whole heartily that she or anyone else could have been standing here today instead of meh. Just like many of you all I see when I look in a mirror is a small scrawny boy from elevun who should neva' have walked out of the arena alive. How I did all I can say is a fought an' I killed. I am a killa an' I more than anyone knows that since I will foreva' have the blood of twenty three othas' on my hands. Now I may not have eva' harmed Maya but in a way I killed her too. Y'all have every right to be mad at meh an' to blame meh as well. Howeva' I will tell ya no matter how much ya do or wish I died in that arena but I didn' an' no one can change that. So to end things I won' apologize 'cause no amount of apologies could replace Maya or any of those that died. All I will say is I promise to live out a life worthy of their sacrifice. Thank y'all for ya time today." 

Kirito didn't wait to hear the claps for long before he let the doors of the Justice Building close behind him. All that he could see in his mind was the eyes of Maya's sister burning through his skull. Yet as he sat upon the indoor steps all he could hope was that he didn't upset her even more than she already must be. Kirito had already destroyed twenty three lives, he didn't want to hurt anyone else any longer.

There is a Key to every gate and every exit,
yet every Key has its own cost.

table by anzie