======================================= "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." It was an old saying, one that signified the ability for new life to spring forth from the end. Something that the investigators of the Gray Rose case found at every site, neatly tucked into the outfits of the deceased, the ace of hearts cards being its carrier. Now in the heart of enemy territory, that saying was still as relevant as when he had first used it. Even if it wasn't clear, hidden under the polished floors, the towering skyscrapers, the neon lights that illuminated the Capitol at night, the odor of death was still woven into this world to its core. The only difference between here and the districts was that it was practically impossible to find anything about the concept that didn't relate to the games. Fitting, wasn't it? For a society that was all about upkeep and order, they swept all of those things that didn't fit their view under the rug, its sins forever hidden from prying eyes. And yet, for these future k1llers that they would watch like hawks, they made a huge spectacle out of them, treating it as if this was just a child's game, a story to be sold to the masses, tributes reduced to nothing but character tropes. Here they now stood, covered from head to toe in flashy, glamorous outfits, awaiting a stage to perform on. Whispers about what awaited in front of them floated about on the wind, although Matthew seldom paid attention to whatever flew by. His suit, adorned with tacky red roses and chains that scraped against his skin, felt uncomfortable, to say the least. His usual gray one was worn in, the fabric molded by years of wear and tear. This one, meanwhile, was stiff, mobility limited by the ironed and starched fabrics, although he assumed that comfortableness wasn't the top priority; it was to look nice, presentable, like a doll. Shuffle, shuffle. The crowd surged forward, footsteps switching from asphalt to metal, then from metal to carpet. The train. The thing that would present the Capitol's new dolls to the public, all eyes watching, waiting for something, someone, to slip up. Especially ones who were outspoken about their... distaste of the Capitol. For them, silence would be the key to success, for safety, to gain the favor of those all-seeing eyes. Matthew Williams was a man of many words, but one who kept them hidden. He had a set of rules he had created to keep himself safe after seeing the cruelty of the Capitol on live television. Stay silent. Show no emotion. True trust is impossible. Everyone is an enemy. Groups are a liability. Lie through your teeth. And most of all, the one that ran through his head as the wheels of the steel beast began to churn, sending forth the carriages of these unwilling actors, Death is an inevitability, as you will find yourself on either side of it one day. Those were the rules of the silent tribute on the train, the one that stayed hidden, and yet, was whispered about among the throngs of sightseers. And that was how it should stay. ====================================== Credits: Art by Song is Rule 21: Memento Mori by Fish in a Birdcage Writing is by me
