MAUDLIN

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Maudlin (adj.) foolishly sentimental

«There are two kinds of guilt: the kind that drowns you until you're useless, and the kind fires your soul to purpose." - Sabaa Tahir

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Calida carefully arranged a generous selection of food items in a sizable box, marking the third instance of such meticulous packing within the week.

Her father, well-acquainted with Calida's idiosyncrasies, had long abandoned any inquiries into her peculiar activities.

In contrast, Calida's mother never missed an opportunity to reprimand her when she discovered the extensive food-packing sessions, warning her about the pitfalls of overindulgence and the risk of putting on extra weight.

Meanwhile, Benjamin, her younger brother, perched on the kitchen counter, finding amusement in his sister's endeavour to seal the overflowing box.

Undaunted, Calida stuffed the packed box and a couple of water bottles into her bag.

Hastily, she descended the grand staircase, her mother's scolding trailing after her like a persistent echo, admonishing Calida for her hasty descent.

Stepping through the front doors, she climbed into the awaiting car and instructed her driver to head towards the zoo.

"Isaac!" Calida exclaimed, waving energetically as she emerged from the car and jogged to the enclosure where the tributes were confined.

"Callie!" Isaac boomed, straightening from his slouched position against a stone.

"Hey sweetheart. Brought over some food and water. Feeling hungry?" Calida inquired, pulling out the lunchbox and a few bottles of water.

"Thanks, Callie. I've never had this much food in front of me before!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening in amazement.

Calida held back a chuckle at Isaac's sincere reaction, feeling a lump of guilt forming in her stomach instead.

"Well, you deserve nothing but the best, sweetheart. Eat to your heart's content; it's all for you," Calida said, settling on the ground and placing the box within Isaac's reach.

"How are they treating you in there?" Calida inquired, a momentary sense of unease washing over her as she posed such a question to a boy confined in a cage, aware that he'd soon be forced to engage in a deadly struggle with 23 others for survival.

"Mags is nice. She let me huddle under her jacket when it got cold," he shared.

"That's kind of her. But are you feeling cold now? I'll get you a warm blanket next time, and in the meantime, you can have my jacket." Calida shrugged off her jacket and handed it to the boy, the garment enveloping his small frame just as she.

"Whoa, thanks, Callie. I've never had something that looked so... fresh before," he exclaimed with genuine excitement.

Once again, guilt washed over Calida as she observed him.

It seemed to be a lot of things he'd never had before. It made her heart ache for him, and all the other children for that matter.

Isaac briefly looked her way before casting his eyes downward.

"Would you mind if I share the food with Mags?" he inquired, his expression carrying a hint of concern about broaching such a request.

"Go ahead. It's your food; you decide what you want to do with it."

Isaac's face brightened once more as he beckoned Mags to join.

Mags, a girl with abundant and pretty hair, seemed every bit as gentle as Isaac had depicted.

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"Hey, Mags. I'm Isaac's mentor," Calida informed her.

Mags acknowledged with a subtle nod, her manner composed but cautious. Calida could understand the girl's hesitancy; the other mentors hadn't been too kind with their assigned tributes.

Calida, presented an assortment of delectable foods while sharing details about the arena.

Her father had designed the arena, so she had sneaked into his home office, and snatched the papers for the layout.

Calida found it challenging to get a good night's sleep for the past few days. She was plagued by nightmares centered around the upcoming game.

The resemblance in Isaac's eyes to her brother's only heightened Calida's empathy for the young tribute.

She knew that getting so emotionally invested, would hit her hard when the little boy eventually would be gone.

The odds were not in Isaac's favor.

"Hey, I got something for you," Isaac declared, revealing a sheet of paper.

"For me?" Calida replied, caught off guard.

She had gifted him crayons and paper, a seemingly lighthearted gesture that had received the Capitol's overblown attention courtesy of Lucky Flickerman's annoying commentary.

Calida had simply rolled her eyes at the Capitol's overreaction.

Despite the seemingly frivolous nature of her gift, she wished for Isaac to hold onto his childlike innocence a bit longer, shielded from the impending brutality of the arena.

"I'm framing this and putting it up the moment I'm back home!"

"Really? You want to do that?" Isaac blurted out, his eyes widening.

"Yes, it's fantastic. Thank you, darling. I love it."

Isaac was just too damn sweet for this world.

Just a little boy who had no understanding what he had done to be punished like this.

She wished she could snatch him out of this miserable cage and return him to his mother where he truly belonged.

As she gazed at Isaac, an idea sparked in her mind.

"Isaac, could I trouble you for a strand of your hair?" Calida inquired, fully aware of the peculiarity of her request.

"My hair? Why?" the young boy questioned.

"Do you trust me?" Calida asked with a hint of mystery."

"I do. You're way better than all those other jackasses." he declared adamantly.

Calida couldn't help but laugh at his childishness.

He was just a child after all.

With a nod of gratitude, he handed over a strand of his hair.

Calida delicately placed it in a tissue, securing it carefully in her bag. The gesture held a promise that she was up to something.

As the late hour approached, she gracefully stood, offering her goodbyes to the company and assuring Isaac of her return tomorrow.

Upon pivoting, Calida discerned Coriolanus Snow casually propped against a lamppost.

A furrow appeared on her brow as she advanced toward him with deliberate steps.

"So now you're leting him call you Callie? I had the impression that Sejanus alone was entitled to use that nickname." Snow remarked, injecting a mocking tone into his words.

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