Cyrene Meadowforge

Cress Meadowforge (adoptive sister)

Callisto Meadowforge (adoptive sister)

## History

Cyrene Meadowforge was not born; she was made.

A hand picked charity case straight out of an orphanage in District One, her name was changed to fit a theme, her purpose in life redirected with artful intent. It was not easy to make a spare seem like the opposite, like their own person, but Fleur and Myron Meadowforge masterfully handled the difficult task. Their first born daughter Cressida would do best with a friend her own age - or much better yet, a practical twin.

So, they were raised together, played together, ate together and caused mischief together. Cressida with that air of bright lightness around her, blonde locks, rosy cheeks and lips. Cyrene with jet black hair and something more quiet, held back painting her aura with something decidedly heavier. Whatever the Meadowforges had hoped for came true, more so than just that. As children, even as young teenagers, the two of them were inseparable, even as a third joined their sisterhood, welcomed with open arms.

The Academy, finally, was where their rather different personalities began to crystallise.

Cyrene was no fan of the theatrics, the showmanship that some of the trainers funnelled into their classes. Her own style of fighting was elegant, though still almost clinical in its execution. A punch, kick, stab and slice all dealt calculated damage. Guns were professional, knives were personal. Blunt objects were good in a surprise attack, and no one brought a spear to a gunfight. Every single weapon and movement had its purpose, its strengths and weaknesses. Cyrene cared not for who she impressed, but what the results of her movements and decisions were.

Cressida, however, excelled at showmanship. The 120th Hunger Games had her sister’s name written all over it. The sparkling diamond from District One who did not only take the Capitol in storm, but also the Arena. Cyrene watched the girl she’d grown up beside bring people to their knees with a mere look, others with sweetened words and yet another with empty promises. Theatrics suited her sister, though as Cyrene kept watching - and she watched every free second she got, intently and running on far too little hours of sleep - she noticed that Cressida’s image on screen wasn’t the one she was used to. There was something off, something almost a little fuzzy around the edges.

She watched Cressida rise from the Arena victorious, but simultaneously realised that she wasn’t going to get the sister back that she’d sent off.

Cyrene had never hated being right until the very moment that Cressida turned into Cress, the Capitol socialite and starlet leaving her behind in District One with their parents and younger sister.

They didn’t not see one another, though from her victory onwards, what had once been a deep connection felt more shallow, drained of the joint experiences that had saturated their bond before. Cress and Cyrene lived wholly separate, wholly different lives now.

The Games had taken something from her, warped it and given it back as an unreachable, cruelly tempting version. Her sister was right there, almost close enough to touch, but far away at the same time. Cyrene saw Cress on TV. Cress saw a camera lens.

It was on her now, to find her own identity, no longer attached to someone at the hip. A spare set free, she found the world to be a different place than she’d been raised to believe. The Games weren’t glorious, the Capitol shiny and gleaming at the surface, but after a closer look the diamonds were made of glass, the golden jewellery nothing but gilded metal.

There wasn’t much to be done with Cyrene’s dislike of the Games. That was, until The Vox gained steadily in popularity. At first there were only whispers, barely intelligible, drifting by on a breeze, but she managed to follow the crumbs of information until there was finally something tangible right in front of her. Fighting in Eleven, printed rebellious words on paper, executions in the Capitol. Cyrene could put her finger on something and follow the trail until she was finally at a place where felt like she belonged, making use of that Academy education for nothing other than the purpose of tearing it all down.

And then, come 134, Callisto volunteered. Cyrene’s heart beat all the way up in her throat as she watched her youngest sister go up to that stage proudly, walk towards the other part of their trio that had never come back the same again. Knowing that she couldn’t let yet another loved one go to the Capitol and watch them change from afar, Cyrene begged her parents to get her a job in the Capitol, pleading and promising that no one was better fit to train the tributes from One than herself, if her grades in the Academy were anything to go by.

Short discussions and long numbers on cheques later, Cyrene found herself on a train to the Capitol.

Because money could buy many things - all in exchange for a soul.