The man, yes, if not the state they were likely hoping to find him in.
Wyatt had come up the tube with an uncertain hope tossing in his gut: the clothes, - eyepatch and makeup aside - were so familiar, so like the ones back in his room... for a moment he'd been certain of what he'd see when he reached the top.
But he'd been wrong. None of the other tributes were wearing anything like him and the arena - bright and strange and... was that candy?
He didn't understand what the point was in the strange getups, how they possible went together with the pink, sweet arena, but as the count had run down and the tingle in his arm turned into burning, he realized that it didn't matter. That the Capitol had a whole nother plan in mind.
At the sound of the canon, he came off his pedestal with a lurch, his chest tightening. They were killing him.
But he couldn't give in, not to the pain, not to the way his vision swam, not the sweat that beaded on his face and ran down his spine.
He'd made a promise. He had to find Howard.
When the pair found him, leaning against the strange cookie mountain, he was on his last legs, barely able to lift his head, driven this far only by the strength of his will.
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Wyatt had come up the tube with an uncertain hope tossing in his gut: the clothes, - eyepatch and makeup aside - were so familiar, so like the ones back in his room... for a moment he'd been certain of what he'd see when he reached the top.
But he'd been wrong. None of the other tributes were wearing anything like him and the arena - bright and strange and... was that candy?
He didn't understand what the point was in the strange getups, how they possible went together with the pink, sweet arena, but as the count had run down and the tingle in his arm turned into burning, he realized that it didn't matter. That the Capitol had a whole nother plan in mind.
At the sound of the canon, he came off his pedestal with a lurch, his chest tightening. They were killing him.
But he couldn't give in, not to the pain, not to the way his vision swam, not the sweat that beaded on his face and ran down his spine.
He'd made a promise. He had to find Howard.
When the pair found him, leaning against the strange cookie mountain, he was on his last legs, barely able to lift his head, driven this far only by the strength of his will.