Hello everyone! Welcome to my Resbang! It is a hunger games au so be prepared, it does get violent! I hope you like it! A great big thank you to my betas Ash-is-boss, Rebornfromash, Khalessimaka and Hersheybar42! Also Thanks to my lovely artists Kittykatz009 and likasashes! I will put the links to their art and cosplay on my profile, ok? check them out! Also, there is eventual Soma!
Full Summary: Maka Albarn thought she had no need to worry about being chosen for the Hunger Games. Her name was in the reaping the least amount of times possible for someone her age, and her father was a victor. It should have been impossible. But it wasn't. When she is chosen as the female tribute for District Eleven she is thrust into the Capitol and the Hunger Games, where appearances and surviving go hand in hand, and it's nearly impossible to tell an enemy from a friend. The masquerade had begun.
Warnings:
Violence, gore, Minor character death (20+ deaths), Madness, blood, language, Giriko. Hunger Games AU.
I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think! :) Have a great day!
The spring breeze carried a chill that swept through the orchard and around the flowers planted by the base of the creaking gates leading to town.
Maka sat at the bottom of one of the tall apple trees, absent-mindedly flipping the pages of a scrap book resting on her torn stockings.
The book cracked in her hands as she opened it, and the pages within were yellowed and frail, the words scrolling across them slanted and dark in comparison. She smiled as her index finger traced each picture. She frowned as she recalled each moment as if it were yesterday.
Her father being reaped.
Her father in the games.
Her father winning.
Her mother and father getting married.
Her being born.
Baby Maka and her family, smiles on all their faces.
Her first birthday.
Her second, her third, her eighth.
A picture of her and her father, mama nowhere in sight.
Her friends.
Her papa in the capital for those horrid games.
Her friends.
She knew every picture and caption by heart. Now, at the age of sixteen, they were how she remembered her mother.
Kami Albarn had married Spirit Albarn two years after he won the games when she found out she was pregnant with the red haired man's child. Their marriage had been a happy one, both devoted to Maka and her growth in a happy, healthy home. However, Maka began to grow and grow, and Spirit started seeing her in the eyes of all the tributes he helped kill off during the Games.
After he saw his own daughter as a possible tribute, their marriage became fragile. As Spirit turned to alcohol as an escape from the horror of sending children to their deaths he became more withdrawn.
He drank more, and with that he changed. He still loved his family, he always did, but now he needed a distraction, something to keep him from remembering the kids he had led to death, the pain he had helped cause families.
That had been when the affairs started. When her mama had found out the first time, she cried and had thrown things at him; hitting him with rolled socks and the soft, green pillows from the couch. Maka was four.
The second time there was screaming as well as crying. Her mama had thrown Maka's toy blocks at him when she thought Maka was in bed, catching him on the nose and making it bleed. Maka had been five.
The third time was a week after. The fourth soon after that. There were so many affairs that Maka had lost count. Maka started to notice the signs. Whenever her mama ordered her to go to her room, voice soft but also hard at the same time, she knew her papa had another affair. Maka would run off in fear from the tone in her mama's voice. It was scarier than the time Maka had been yelled at for getting into a scuffle with Blackstar by the pond. She had run off to her room and locked the door.
That was when the screaming had started. She could hear it; her mother's anger, her father's shame and apologies. She could hear the sounds of things breaking: plates, cups, other precious items.
She curled up in her room, the dresser pushed in front of her door and her blankets draped over her head, creating a cocoon where she shook and cried until her mama knocked on her door. Maka did not make a sound as her mama said she was sorry that Maka had to hear the fight, that she still loved Maka, but she would be going away for a little while. Maka didn't say a thing, nor did she move the blockage from the door. Her mama sighed and left. She was eight at the time.
Her mother had been gone when she got up the next morning, though, her father had been there. He was on his hands and knees, picking up the broken pieces of the vase that her parents had gotten as a wedding present. The shards were cutting his fingers, blood trickling from the slices all along his hands but he greeted her with a smile, like any other day, asking how her sleep was.
As if she got any.
Her mother never came back. Maka received letters every now and again from district three (where her mother now lived after the very long transfer process and an even longer trip by foot. It hurt her that her mama would try so hard to get away from her), but she never saw her, never heard her voice. No, the scrapbook was all the knowledge Maka had left of her mother, except for the memories.
She sighed, standing up and closing the book. The early morning sun was streaming between the leaves of the tree. She should probably head back to her home to get ready, now. It was the day of the reaping after all.
Her dress was plain and green. Her father had offered to buy her a new one this year, but she was still in perfect shape from last year's ceremony that she didn't need another one. As she slipped it on, she worried about who would be chosen to fight in the games this year, her mind drifted to Tsubaki and Blackstar in alarm.
She never liked watching the people get chosen and carted off to the capital to be paraded around like hated it. It made her sick to the stomach watching her classmates and younger children get dragged away as their family members screamed and cried. Her mind drifted to the screams she heard from her mother the night she left.
She tried to convince herself she had no fear of being reaped. She was the daughter of a victor. They lived in comfort because of her father's reward for winning while others starved. She did not have to enter her name more than necessary to get tesserae, a year's worth of grain and oil. Her and her father had plenty of food for themselves, but not enough for to many others .
No, Maka Albarn's name was only in the reaping draw four times while others had their names in twice as much as hers. She had no reason to fear, yet she always did.
As she walked towards the middle of the drab, gray city centre where the capitol building stood tall and clean, she met up with two of her friends, Blackstar (as he insisted on being called, he was actually named Blake) and Tsubaki.
Tsubaki gestured for Maka to join her as soon as she saw the blonde girl step onto the street leading to the square. When Maka joined the duo, Blackstar was talking animatedly about how if he was reaped he would beat down all the other tributes to win, because he was a great warrior. Tsubaki was smiling and nodding at all the appropriate times, while discreetly watching Maka sneak up behind the boy.
When Maka was right behind him her hands shot out and she poked him hard right above his hips, making him jump.
He screeched.
Maka laughed incredibly hard at the very warrior like screech he made.
"God dammit Maka, don't do that," the blue haired boy demanded (Maka didn't know where he got the dye, or how he afforded it for that matter), clutching his sides.
Maka didn't reply; she just smirked. Tsubaki had a hand over her mouth as she giggled, trying to hide her laughter. She was doing a pretty good job but Blackstar turned around to yell at her anyway.
"Stop laughing," he screamed, far more embarrassed than he was annoyed (he totally liked Tsubaki).
"So," Maka asked, "how many times is your name in the draw this year?"
"Well, my name is in there 28 extra times," Blackstar said. He didn't need to put his name in that many times, one or two would suffice but his adoptive parents, Sid and Mira were very helpful people and often gave their own rations away to the starving children (there were lots of them). So, to combat this, Blackstar started putting his name in many times. He didn't have to do this, but he did anyway. They saved his life as a child so he wanted to repay them.
Tsubaki smiled thinly, her lips pressed together tightly. She worried about her younger friends. At the age of 19 she was no longer able to be reaped. That didn't stop her worrying though. Blackstar was on his last year and Maka still had 2 or 3 more years left.
But really, there was no way Maka could be reaped. Her name was in there four times, the bare minimum for her age. That was very low odds opposed to the 14 times of some of the girls in Maka's class who had put their names in. She was the victor's daughter. What were the chances of her being chosen?
They walked together, Blackstar reaching for Tsubaki's hand as they walked closer and closer to the bustling square.
The district eleven square was a large gray wasteland. The stone was cold and unwelcoming. On the stage at the base of the capitol building stood their escort, Death the Kid ( an apt name for someone who was sending kids to their deaths). He was a young man, probably no more than 20. His hair had a ring of white around one side of his head and as Maka got closer she noticed that it was actually three stripes.
Strange how only half his head was dyed white but he was yelling about how the square was not symmetrical and that the stage needed to be moved six feet and 3 inches to the left.
"Freak," Blackstar snorted as they approached the check-in for the youth, splitting paths from Tsubaki, who moved to go stand with the rest of the adults, glancing back at them every few seconds.
Maka flashed her an easy smile the next time she caught her eye. She was not worried. There was no way she would be picked.
They filed through the line, the Peacekeepers pricking each youth's finger, identifying who they were. Blackstar kept up a constant stream of chatter. Maka only half listened to what her friend was saying. It wasn't that important.
When they reached the front of the line, Maka blankly held out her hand. The prick on her finger was sharp, but the pain only lasted a second or two, the blood welling on the pad of her pointer finger.
"Maka Albarn?" a voice inquired sounding tired. "You can head inside now." She could hear the hollow emptiness in his voice. Huh, a Peacekeeper with a soul. How rare.
She followed the others down the roped off path before splitting off to join the section for 16 year old girls.
Alot of people were standing near their friends. Some of them were stoic, some of them were shaking. Maka, however, felt no fear. Her chances of getting picked were one in a million.
"Did you hear about Meme?" a voice nearby where she was standing asked.
"No, I didn't," another replied, accompanied by a shake of the head. "What happened to her?"
"Apparently, her father told her she had not entered her name in the Tessera so when she did, her name was entered 42 times," another voice added. Maka recognized this voice as one of Meme's friends. The group of girls where all trembling as they stood together.
"Well- oh, God- this is going to sound completely horrible, but at least it's not us!" The first girl who had spoken stated, her hands shaking and her lower lip trembling. Tears had started to leak out of her eyes.
"At least it's not one of us," her friend echoed, sounding as hollow as if it was one of them.
Maka sighed, the poor girl. Meme would forget her head if it was not attached to her shoulders. It sounded cruel, but the girls were right. Compared to Meme's 42 ballots, her four was less than significant.
"Attention please. May I have your attention please." a smooth voice called out from the podium on the center of the stage. The imbalanced Man was standing there, his hands raised in a call for silence. He cleared his throat once more. "Thank you for your attention. Now, if I could direct your attention to the screen on the left, we will be watching a video of our wonderful national anthem."
When the last few notes had faded out, he smiled and stood closer to the podium once again. His pale, almost silvery complexion seemed to sparkle in the sunlight as his ridiculously impractical cloak swayed around him. He reached out a hand.
"Gentlemen first this year," he stated as he raised a single hand and lowered it into the large glass bowl. "Our male tribute is," he shouted, smiling to the audience, eyes wide with excitement. The male Tributes shifted, worried once more as Kid looked them over, from the girls side Maka could see them anxiously shifting, some of them biting their lips, others wringing their hands.
"Kilik Rung," Kid beamed as he said it, as if he had not just condemned a child to death.
Two loud wails echoed through the crowd. Kilik's younger twin siblings screamed and cried, their hands reaching for him as their mother held them back, tears in her own eyes. Kilik made eye contact with as many people as he could on his way to the stage, his back straight and tall. He strode up the stairs of the stage, Peacekeepers at his side as he moved to stand beside Kid.
"And how old are you, Kilik?" Kid asked him jovially as though he had just asked him what kind of dessert he wanted with his tea. The dark skinned boy raised his eyes to the cameras, his face blank and impassive, a far cry from his usual grin and witty reply.
"15."
If Kid was startled by the brevity of his reply he didn't show it.
"And how many times was your name in the reaping?" Kid inquired.
"Nineteen," the young boy ground out.
Kid was starting to catch on that the newest tribute was not feeling very talkative.
"Well, then! Let's pick our female tribute, shall we?"
He asked it as though he was picking the winner of a great prize. In a way, a sick twisted way, it was. If they won.
His hand dug around in the bowl before pulling out the name of the female tribute this year. When he saw whose name it was on the piece of paper, it was the closest his face ever got to sadness (Perhaps he had linked her to her father). However, it was quickly replaced by a brilliant smile.
"Our female tribute for this year is," he paused and waited a moment wanting to build up the suspense. The girls around her looked ready to pass out because of all the tension, their hands shaking as they held onto their friends. Like that would stop them from being taken.
"Maka Albarn."
Maka froze, her eyes wide as she stared at her escort. She was the tribute? Impossible! Her name had only been in there four times! Her blood was racing, roaring in her ears and rendering her unable to hear anything at all. She could see the people around her turning to face her, trying to hide the looks of relief on their faces. Some of the girls' hands had came up to cover their mouths as tears leaked out of their eyes. Others offered her a solemn nod, their eyes steeled.
She spun her head towards her father's direction, seeing his face lacking it's usual rosy color, his jaw slack. He mouthed out an apology, something Maka couldn't understand why. When the rush subsided, Maka realized the whispering going around her. She could hear fragments of it: "That's the victor's daughter," and, "She had the least chance of being called than any of us."
"I volunteer!" Maka's head snapped towards the boy's group, spotting BlackStar making his way towards the stage fast. However, the peacekeepers grabbed ahold of him before he could step foot on it. "Screw gender! Let me go!"
Maka then looked in the older crowd, the crowd that didn't have to worry about being called, and watched as Tsubaki tried making her way through the crowd towards her. However, she was also stopped by the peacekeepers who were guarding the perimeter. She didn't have to be held down like BlackStar, but she did wail a "This shouldn't have happened!"
Maka stared straight ahead, frozen in place as Kid called out to her. Her jaw was slack and her eyes were should have been impossible for her of all people to be reaped. Her name was only in there four times.
There were so many things she still wished she had done.
Well, it was too late now. The crowd parted around her, and the Peacekeepers were drawing closer to forcefully pull her from the whispering crowd. That would not be necessary.
Maka stood tall on her way to the stage. She wanted- no she needed to make a good impression if she wanted to stay alive. When she reached the stage, she took Kid's offered hand to climb up the stairs. She could have just climbed up the stairs herself. It would have been easier.
However, it was all about publicity now. She had seen her father do it often enough to know what to do. She had to smile, seem polite even if she hated them all, and act sweet. Innocent.
"So, Maka was it?" Kid asked.
Maka smiled falsely sweet, "Yes," she replied, "that's me."
"I see," Kid replied, seemingly relieved that he had at least one chatty tribute.
"I see. Maka, why don't you tell us why you look so familiar? Your last name is Albarn, is that right?"
Maka nodded. "Yes, it is. Spirit Albarn, the current victor, is my father."
Kid clapped his hands like an excited child. "Excellent, excellent! We are in for a wonderful show this year then. You have real potential. How many times was your name entered?"
"Four times," Maka answered, her eyes wide and innocent, even if she desperately wanted to growl and hit someone but she kept the calm smile on her face.
Kid actually looked surprised, "Well, then, if we could get our two tributes taken indoors, that would be fantastic." He ushered the newest tributes indoors as he waved once more to the crowds. "And remember: may the odds be ever in your favour."
The inside of the capitol building was drab as well, the walls gray and cold. There were hints of green in some places, but these places were few and far between.
The Peacekeepers were rough with them, walking fast and dragging Maka by her arms when she inevitably fell behind. They split off down the third hallway, Maka being pulled into the room on the right and Kilik going to the left.
The Peacekeepers slammed the door shut behind her.
She only had to wait a few seconds before the door was wrenched open once again. This time by her father. He was livid, his face contorted into a mask of anger. He reached out for her and pulled her into his arms, the gentle way he held her a stark contrast to his anger.
"They didn't do anything to you, did they, baby?" he asked, sounding terrified as he looked into her eyes, imploring her. She shook her head.
"Good. I'm glad you are okay," he said honestly, his voice raw.
The door swung open revealing a Peacekeeper. "You have five minutes before the next visitor," he intoned before nodding at Spirit and closing the door once again.
"Papa, you know we will be staying together. You don't need to say goodbye to me here," Maka said confused. Wouldn't he stay with her? He wouldn't leave her, would he?She knew this was usually the tribute's last time to see their family, but she had been counting on her father staying with her. As the previous victor, he was supposed to be her mentor for the Hunger Games, wasn't he? She wasn't ready to say good bye.
"I know," Spirit choked out, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed emotion. "It's just that this is our last chance to talk in private. The walls have ears in the capitol. Maka, sweetie, this will be hard on you. I know you can do it. No matter what happens, as your father, I will always love you. Please remember that. Also, always remember, all the crowd, all the Gamekeepers want is a good show. If you can prove you are interesting and they like you, you will live. Always put on a show, Maka. No matter how much it hurts you now, when you're alive later, you will be glad you did. If you ever think that you don't want to live anymore, remember Tsubaki, remember Blake, remember all your friends back home, remember your fallen allies." Remember me.
He was almost sobbing now. Maka didn't know how to deal with this. This was not her strong, brave, funny, happy father. No, this was the broken, beaten man sitting on the floor of their home with blood flowing from his fingertips as he tried to salvage and put back together the broken pieces of his marriage, of his life.
"I will, Papa," she stated, her voice wavering slightly as she pulled him in for a hug. "I will."
"Good girl," he replied, shaking even more now.
"Papa?" Maka asked, "Are you okay?"
The tears were flowing freely from his clear blue eyes now. "It's just- damn it, it's just bad enough they have taken my wife from me and now they're taking my daughter too!" He held her tighter.
Maka felt the tears in her own eyes spill over. "They won't take me away from you, Papa, I swear."
A knock sounded at the door.
"Your five minutes are up," the monotonous voice called out from the other side of the door as both father and daughter tried to pull themselves together.
Spirit pulled her in for one more quick hug, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and made for the door. "See you soon, angel."
Barely thirty seconds after the door closed behind her father, it opened to show Tsubaki. She already had tears running down her face as she immediately swept Maka into a tight hug.
Maka petted Tsubaki's hair as the older girl cried.
"Shhh, Tsu. It will be alright," Maka said softly. "I promise, it will all be fine."
After a few more seconds, Tsubaki collected herself once more as she promptly apologised and grabbed Maka's hand. They sat together on the chairs across from each other as Tsubaki sniffed again.
"I'm sorry, Maka. I came in here with every intention of comforting you, but- but here you are comforting me," her shoulders shook once again as she tightened her grip on Maka's hand. "Please stay safe. Please, come home."
It was all she could say before she collapsed into another fit of sobs. "I- I don't doubt your ability, Maka. Please come home. I need you here; Blackstar needs you here; your father needs you here. We all need you. You have to make it home, okay?" she choked out.
Maka nodded. " I will do everything in my power to get back." She would not make promises she could not keep.
Once again the harsh knock sounded at the door, their time together was up. Maka helped Tsubaki to her feet and the girl walked towards the door, only stopping briefly to say goodbye and that she loved her, that she was her best friend in the world.
Maka barely had time to return the sentiment before Tsubaki was dragged from the door by a Peacekeeper, her tears flowing freely once again.
Her last visitor was Blackstar. He didn't waste time. He immediately sat down on the chair across from Maka.
"You will try to make it back, won't you?" he asked, his voice steely.
Maka nodded, "I will try my best."
They sat in silence for a moment before Blackstar blurted out, "I'm going to propose to Tsu. We're both old enough, and I really love her; I want to spend the rest of my life with her. You were going to be the first person I would have told after I asked her, but, well, after today, I thought I would tell you first before Tsu. Just in case you don't make it back..."
Maka nodded, her hand smoothing out her dress again and again. "Congratulations. I'm sure she won't say no to you, and that you two will live a long, happy life together." Her voice never cracked, never stumbled as she congratulated him even though she felt as though her heart was being torn out.
" We will wait to have our wedding until after the Hunger Games are done," Blackstar said, his voice stiff. "To make sure you don't miss it. You will try your hardest to be there, won't you? Do you promise?" his eyes were pleading.
"I will do my best," Maka replied and for the first time, her voice caught in her throat. She would not make promises she could not keep.
Blackstar stood up, his arm outstretched to her. She took it and he pulled her up so that she was standing next to him. He hugged her then. Maka thought she could feel water hitting her collarbone, but she was not sure nor did she say anything. They hugged until the knock was heard on the door once more.
When it was time for them to board the train, the Peacekeepers went to their sides once again as they paraded them past the cameras. Kilik's siblings had tried to race after him, their tiny feet hitting the concrete as they neared their older brother. They reached for him, almost making it to the their brother before their mother pulled them Peacekeepers eyed them cautiously as they struggled and cried, desperate to escape their mother's grasp and to reach their older brother, to hug him one last time.
They never made it. The tributes, mentor and escort were forced onto the train. The window was open and before they were too far gone, Kilik was there, screaming out that he loved them and to please, please stay safe. If Maka had been paying more attention she would have noticed Spirit crying behind them, his hand over his face.
The train ride to the capital was long. Kid had tried to make conversation a few times, but Kilik had just ignored him and Maka had politely stated that she was tired and wished to rest before arriving at the capitol.
Maka was not physically tired quite yet, but she was emotionally exhausted. She wanted to nap and she wanted to do it now. When she walked into her room (an entire train car all to herself), she barely had time to register how soft the bed was before she fell asleep.
When she woke up the next day Maka experienced the moment of panic that one could get when they wake up in a strange place. Where was she?
The events of yesterday came rushing back to her like a tidal wave, threatening to knock her over and drown her. The reaping, the good byes, Kilik's family, Tsubaki's tears, Blackstar's planned proposal. Her father's breakdown.
Maka collapsed back down onto the bed as her arm fell over her face, blocking the light trying to reach her eyes and blocking her tears.
A knock sounded on the door. Eight sharp raps.
"It's time for breakfast, Maka. There is an outfit on the chair by the door for you to wear." The smooth, cool voice on the other side said. Kid.
Maka nodded before she realized he could not see her and spoke up. "Okay," was all she said and when she heard the even footsteps fade away she got off the bed. The new outfit was a black pencil skirt and a white blouse. She was glad it was modest and not to over the top, unlike most capital clothing she had seen on the escort and on the coverage of the games.
Her green dress was crumpled and wrinkled from sleeping in it. The blouse and skirt was a stark contrast to it, neatly folded and pressed perfectly flat, not a wrinkle to be seen. It was nothing short of perfect.
Before she left her room, she went over to the mirror. Her hair was tangled and knotted on one side of her head. There was a brush on the counter in front of her and she ran it through her shoulder length blond hair, the brush catching on the many tangles.
Maka sighed. Her hair had always tangled easily. She would have to convince her stylist to cut her hair off before she entered the arena. She didn't want to look like a mess in front of the cameras.
After her hair was finally straight, she looked at the vanity table where she had found the comb. There was an assortment of outrageous accessories (but two of each).
There were plenty of accessories such as small fancy hats, large hairclips, feathers, and veils that looked quite silly and in no way could ever serve a practical purpose. It took quite a few minutes before Maka could find the right accessories. Two little green ribbons.
She pulled her hair back into her favoured pigtails, the ribbons resting on either side of her head behind her ears.
Blackstar had always teased her that her pigtails made her look childish and naïve. That was just the look she would need to survive one of the most difficult challenges she would have to face: the social masquerade of the capitol.
Just to be cruel, as a small act of revenge, she loosened one of them, the hair on her left slightly lower than the one on the right. Perfect.
With that, she slipped back into her worn black boots and headed towards the tantalizing smell of breakfast.
Breakfast took place in a lavish car towards the front of the train. When Maka reached it, she found she was the last one to arrive, both Kid, Spirit and Kilik already seated. The smell of food was amazing and remind her stomach just how starving she was. On the table laid plates of bacon, ham, sausage, pancakes, biscuits, and other foods Maka had never seen before.
Kid briefly glanced up from his device to greet her shortly before taking another biscuit. He looked briefly horrified at her uneven hair, but quickly looked back down, returning his attention to his work. Her father was moodily reading the newspaper, but when his eyes reached hers, he offered her a brilliant smile. The last person seated at the train table was Kilik. He eyed the spread of food with barely concealed awe and wonder, his eyes trained on the multitude of dishes spread before him.
"This is more than we get in a week back home," he breathed out as their eyes met. Maka nodded, feeling guilty. This was just too much food. There was no way they could eat all this in one sitting. Would they get leftovers for supper? Somehow, she doubted that that would be the case.
Noticing Maka staring at the array of food spread across the table, Kid spoke up. "Eat up now. I bet you're starving. We will be arriving in the capital in thirty-five minutes. I want you perfectly presentable by then."
Maka nodded again and served herself a large serving of bacon. This felt an awful lot like her last meal.
When the train finally slowed to a stop, Kid gathered everyone by the door. He inspected each and every person closely. They all passed his test except for Maka. "I'm sorry, Maka. I tried to ignore it, but your pigtails are uneven."
Maka had to physically restrain herself from grinning evilly. Instead she smiled innocently, "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't notice."
Kid smiled but it was strained, "That's quite alright, Maka. Not everyone can be as symmetry oriented as I am."
They were shown off the train in a hurry. There was no ceremony, no celebration. The two tributes were separated from their mentor and escort. Kid shouted encouragements after them and Spirit just gave a small half wave.
Down one more hallway and Maka was pulled away from Kilik, leaving her on her own with a group of peacekeepers. The room they pushed her into was covered in stainless steel and tile. The walls were blue and rather clinical in nature, the smell of aerosol sprays permeated the cold blindingly bright room. The woman standing there was no less shiny and blue than the dress was steely gray and her blue eyes were highlighted by the scarf draped around her shoulders.
"Are you Maka?" The woman asked. When Maka nodded, the woman gave a noticeable sigh of relief. "Good, you don't look too bad right now; it won't take much to make you sparkle. I'm Liz, your stylist."
Liz held out a sparkly, manicured hand. Maka hesitantly took it and they shook hands. Liz's hands were soft, Maka marvelled. All the people back home in district eleven had rough, calloused hands, even the girls. "I'm Maka, but you already knew that."
At this, Liz laughed and took her by the elbow. She led her to the center of the room, next to the strange mixture of a table and a bed. "Alright, Maka, as your stylist it's my job to make sure you knock everyone's socks off with how smoking hot you are. So, if you will please take off your clothing so I can get your measurements, that would be extremely appreciated." Maka could hear the unspoken please don't make me bring the peacekeepers into this in her voice.
Carefully, she started to remove her shirt and skirt. When she finished she stood still and looked expectantly at Liz. "Your underwear too," the older woman said.
"But-" Maka started before Liz shot her a sharp glare.
Maka blushed bright red as she carefully pulled off her undergarments and set them to rest on the counter in a neat pile. Liz went to pull a measuring tape from the cabinet behind her and while her back was turned Maka caught herself moving to smooth her non-existent skirt. She quickly moved her hands to try and cover her chest. She felt vulnerable and exposed and she didn't like it.
Liz had found the measuring tape now and had set about measuring all around Maka at angles Maka didn't think would be helpful at all. She kept up a constant stream of chatter the entire time. "You know, I'm glad you're my tribute. Some of the others are tiny little girls with no hips and no breasts. But, you have just the right amount of assets to suit the dress I made for the opening ceremony."
Liz looked so positively excited at the thought of Maka wearing her dress that she didn't ask about the age of the youngest tributes. Instead she asked, excited despite herself, "What does my dress look like?"
"Oh, Maka, sweetie, you don't get to see it until you are completely made over."
"Oh," Maka replied and let the older woman take over the conversation once again, giving her an occasional "uh-huh?", "oh really?" or "that's horrible!" when it was required of her.
After Maka was all measured, and feeling quite uncomfortable, Liz stepped away and rolled up her measuring tape once again. "Well, I'm going to go make the finale adjustments to your outfit. Oh! My sister Patty will be here to start your makeover, so don't bother putting your clothing back on. There is a robe over there."
Maka scurried over to the offered covering, draping it around her slender body. Moments after Liz left the room, another person entered.
"Hiya!" She said, "I'm Patty!"
"Hello, I'm Maka," she returned, staring in awe at the girl who wore a dress that matched her sisters, but with the addition of a strange printed yellow and brown scarf. She seemed to give off energy like the sun.
"I know," Patty quipped before moving towards the cabinet Liz had closed when she left. "Now, let's get you made over."
The grin on her face made Maka cringe.
An hour later and Maka felt that she didn't have a single hair left on her body save the hair in her head (which had been washed so thoroughly that her scalp ached) and her eyebrows (which had been plucked to perfection). Her mouth tasted funny from the bleaching trays that were guaranteed to make her smile pure white. Patty was now cutting and filing her toe nails. She, much like her sister, let loose a constant stream of chatter.
At what Maka assumed was lunchtime, a plate of piping hot food was brought to her and Maka dug in with gusto. Being made over really made her hungry.
When Patty put the first layer of green paint on her toes Maka jumped. Patti giggled like a maniac but continued to paint, her other hand now holding Maka's ankle still.
It was around the time Patty had moved to paint Maka's finger nails, letting her toes dry before starting the second coat, that Liz came back in.
Liz offered Maka a smile that she willingly returned before the older woman moved down to find out what Patty needed help with.
The two sisters then started to share gossip with Maka. For example, the District Three mentor was having a fling with one of the two Games Keepers. It didn't mean much to Maka, not knowing the people personally, but it was a great distraction from the pressing threat of the Games.
After her nails were painted a rich green with what the sisters called brown "french tips" and studded with pale yellow jewels, they moved on to style her hair.
Liz apparently wanted her hair to be slightly wavy but mostly straight. It didn't sound too difficult to accomplish, Maka's hair generally did that on its own, but apparently it had to be absolutely perfect. Each section was straightened then given a slight curl, all while being sprayed and slathered in every single hair product imaginable and more.
Then came the time for her make up.
This was the part Maka had been dreading the most. (The waxing had been a complete surprise, not giving her time to dread it.) The sisters kept her chair facing away from the mirror the entire time they had been working on her and now was no different. They put on layer after layer of makeup, on her cheeks, her eyes and her lips. By the end of it all, she felt like she weighed five pounds more. When Patty had gotten the thumbs up from Liz, she pulled on one of Maka's perfectly manicured hands to guide her to the room Liz had disappeared to earlier.
The sisters zipped Maka into her dress and had her step into impractical shoes that Patty tied in a bow just below her knees as Liz added something very heavy to her back. They then pulled her towards the mirror, giddy with excitement.
The dress was short in the front and long in the back, reaching just above her knees and then to the floor, a hue of green a few shades darker than her nail polish. It was tighter around her torso and flowed loosely around her hips, dotted with jewels to match her nails. The top of the dress covered her chest. Above that, a see through green lace with a flower and leaf pattern covered above her neckline to her wrists.
The dress framed brown leather sandals that wrapped up to her knees. When she spinned around to see the back, she spotted brown branches with gold highlights attached to her like wings and some green leaves fluttering like feathers. They towered two feet over her head, sprouting from her lower back.
She looked beautiful, stunning, but most of all, too impractical and over the top.
The tree branched too tall, her hair was too perfect, her body too hair free, her face caked in so much make up that if she were to touch it, the makeup would rub off on her finger.
The capital sickened her. When she realized the sisters were waiting for her reaction she plastered a huge smile on her face and hoped it reached her eyes. "I love it!" Maka exclaimed, "It's so pretty!" And that was the truth, it was beautiful. The sisters apparently needed her approval because at her words they relaxed and broke into smiles.
"That's good," Liz said. "You totally rock it."
With that,they guided Maka out the door and passed the Peacekeepers, one girl holding each of her arms all the way to the place where the chariots were waiting.
When they neared, her father looked up. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
"Maka, sweetheart, you look so pretty!" He exclaimed as he reached out to touch her face.
Maka blushed (not that anyone could tell with all the makeup on her face) and opened her mouth to say thank you only to be cut off by Liz. She slapped Spirit's hands away before telling him not to touch her make up, he would ruin it.
Her father was saved from the embarrassment as Kilik walked up, surrounded by his own stylist and peacekeepers. He looked down right irritable. "I look like a tree," was all he said, sounding very put out.
"That's kind of the point," Maka stated, trying to conceal her giggling. "Would you rather look like a miner like the district twelve tributes?"
Her father cut their banter short as he moved up to them and put his hand on their shoulders, avoiding the stray branches. "Kid will be here soon. Before he arrives, I want to give you guys some last minute advice. Smile at the crowds, wave at them, pretend you want to be here. That will make you their favourite. You want their favouritism. You won't survive without it." he stated, dead serious.
Maka nodded and Kilik offered a small "Okay" before Kid walked up.
He promptly fell to the ground in a fit of anguish. "Liz," he wailed. "Why are their outfits not symmetrical?!"
Liz rolled her eyes and moved to try to pull him off the floor. "There was nothing I could do to make the branches symmetrical. Trees don't grow that way, it would have looked strange," she explained calmly, like she had done it a thousand times.
Kid sniffed one final time before accepting her hand and standing up. He turned his attention to his tributes once again.
"Remember, this is vital for our popularity," he said as if their popularity would affect him just as much as it would them. "Now then. Let's get you situated on your chariot, shall we?"
He directed his tributes towards the chariot, helping them step up to their places with Maka on the right and Kilik on the left.
In the distance, Maka could hear an authoritative voice yelling for everyone to get into their positions.
As Kid started to walk away towards the V. I. P. box he and the other escorts would be sitting in, Spirit turned to them one last time. "Remember what I told you." With that he moved to follow the stylists and the escort out.
At this point Maka looked around at their fellow tributes. These would be the people who she would be fighting with in a few days. She didn't want to hurt or kill anyone, she wanted to stop this madness, this senseless violence, but she could not. The best she could do was don her mask and play along with their sick, twisted game. They were all so young. Their extravagant costumes trapping them under piles of fabric and make up, hiding what they really looked like from view. She could still read their expressions though, their emotions were something the Capitol wouldn't be able to cover or change, no matter how hard they tried. The Games made her feel sick to her stomach.
Soon enough, the first chariot started moving. The district one tributes stood tall and condescendingly proud as their chariot pulled away, their hands firmly holding on to the hand rail. Soon the second followed, then the third. One after another the chariots went forward, down the path towards the open centre of the stadium.
Soon enough, it was their turn. Their chariot began moving forward. Maka turned to Kilik.
"Are you ready?" She asked, her voice trembling.
"No."
The chariot raced down the passageway to the stadium entrance, the wheels clattering hard and fast against the ground, mirroring her heart beat. The skirt of her dress waved behind her like leaves on a tree during a summer breeze as they emerged out into the bright lights of the stadium.
Maka blinked the light from her eyes, belatedly noticing the echoing cheers that thundered around them.
Her mask was firmly on. The masquerade had begun.
The first thing she noticed about the overzealous masses was that they were all dressed fancily and that they were throwing flowers.
She smiled brightly showing off her newly whitened teeth as the jewels on her dress sparkled.
She waved a manicured hand and waved to the crowd. The cheering was louder now. Beside her, Kilik raised his own hand, giving the crowd a wave and an easy smile.
A flower landed on their chariot. Kilik shot her a conspiring grin and handed her the white carnation. She blushed, taking it and placing it behind her right ear.
The cheers increased in volume.
The chariots pulled towards the raised podium where the President stood to give his speech was short, wishing everyone a happy Hunger Games, and thanking the tributes for their sacrifice. Like this pretentious bastard even ended his speech by saying, "May the odds be ever in your favour."
With that, the chariots circled the open rounded part of the stadium once more before moving towards the smaller entrance to the training grounds. Maka turned around and waved at the crowd as they left.
As soon as the large steel door closed behind them, blocking the view of the stadium, they were swarmed by people,peacekeepers, mentors and escorts alike. The escorts that had gotten their tributes already were critiquing performances and giving them advice for the next time they were to face the audience.
When Maka saw Kid and her father approaching she tried to remain calm. What if she did a horrible job and had ruined it for Kilik and herself?
If Kid's face was any indication they had done a good job, the man was practically glowing. "Great work, you two," he said, his excitement seeping into his voice, "The crowd loved you, your outfits caught their attention and when you, Kilik, gave Maka that flower, the audience went wild. They loved you!" He pointed at Kilik and then Maka, obviously pleased with their performance.
"Yes, very nice," Spirit bit out, "They loved you, but I think we should get going. We need to be up and ready by ten tomorrow. That's when training starts."
With that, the group moved down the hall towards the high speed elevators that would take them up to the eleventh floor, which was where they would be staying until the start of the Games.
When they finally reached the elevators, almost all of the tributes were already gone to take their tributes upstairs. Maka was hoping that they would get an elevator all to themselves, but that didn't seem to be so. The only one left already held three people, one of which was gesturing for them to join them, her hand stopping the elevator door from closing. Maka hoped that her father would wave them off in favour of waiting for another elevator, but he moved forward, walking into the elevator, Kid following behind him.
The look her papa shot her and Kilik over his shoulder clearly reminded them that their masks were to still stay on. Maka glanced over at Kilik and he shrugged before taking a discretely cautious step into the moving box of death.
The elevators themselves were unsettling, Maka decided, as they moved at an almost unnoticeably smooth speed before pulling to a slightly jerky stop. But they were not as unsettling as the other tributes in there with them. One of them had red eyes. Red. Maka had seen some pretty strange things since she arrived in the capital, but she had yet to see someone with pure red eyes. Pair those with the white hair he had and-
Were his teeth sharp?
The other girl was also really creepy. Herlong black hair covered a lot of her face and she had long black nails. Their outfits werepretty ridiculous. Theywere wearing blue skin-tight suits with silver lines and circles all over them. Another thing they both had in common was that they were both eerily comfortable with the elevator, their hands at their sides or crossed across their chests as they casually leaned against the wall.
Maka was pulled out of her inner judgments by her papa's voice. "These are my tributes for this year," he addressed the blonde women who was wearing an eyepatch, of all things. "This is Kilik, and this is my daughter, Maka." He gestured to each of them in turn, his voice breaking as he stumbled over the word daughter before schooling his voice to be falsely casual once again.
Maka smoothed her skirt as the woman introduced herself to be Marie and her tributes to be Sadoko and Soul (his teeth were sharp, she could tell when he flashed them a grin).
They rode in tense silence until the elevator stopped at what the electronic display said was floor three. Marie politely excused herself and her two tributes followed suit, walking out of the elevator.
The doors closed behind them.
When they reached their floor and walked out into the richly decorated room, Maka's jaw dropped.
The table and chairs where mahogany, the floor was marble, and the decorations were overly extravagant. Kid walked in like it was not the fanciest room he had ever seen (it was hard to miss the twitch that he seemed to be experiencing at the lack of balance, though). Her father followed him out of the elevator, his steps measured as he casually walked over to a large, green armchair and collapsed in it.
"You two should probably take off these costumes. Avoxes are in your room to help you," Kid said causally.
Avoxes were servants who had their tongues cut out. They did the work that the people commanded of them. It was thought that they were once citizens of the districts who had betrayed or disrespected the capital. Maka shuddered. Not being able to speak would be awful.
She and Kilik walked down the hallway together, their tree branches brushing each other and casting strange shadows around the hall until they split off again to their respective rooms. As he opened his door, Kilik turned to her one last time, but she couldn't read his look. The door closed with an ominous click behind him.
The door was heavy, her name printed neatly at eye level. The doorknob was smooth and cold in her hand as she slowly, apprehensively, turned it.
It swung open silently, revealing the large bed. A matching dresser and chair set stood lonesomely along the walls. The walls where extravagant and plain at the same time.
The man in the centre of the room was dressed in the same fashion that the room was designed. Maka's eye caught on the black hair that was cut just long enough to cover one eye.
"Akane?" Maka asked, shocked. He had disappeared years ago, when Maka had been 12. He had been caught spying on the head peacekeeper and sharing the information with the people of district eleven.
When he nodded, not speaking Maka could guess what had happened.
"Did they cut out your tongue?" Maka asked, horrified.
He nodded once again, moving smoothly to help her remove the large branches. His hands barely brushed her at all as he undid the buckles that held the branches tied to her. When he got them undone, he moved to remove them, they caught on her hair and pulled, causing her to gasp in pain.
Akane made a sort of humming panicked noise, his fingers quickly seeking out the tangle and gently undoing it. When he got the branches off of her back, he stood in front of her, his body language submissive and fearful. It was then that she noticed. His nose was the wrong shape- like it had been broken more than once already, his had slight bruising, coated with make-up covering his skin.
Maka didn't know what to say, she couldn't console him, she didn't know what had happened. Just as she moved to speak, a loud, sharp knock sounded from the door and echoed around the room, followed by a voice. "Maka, are you almost ready? It's almost time for dinner." Kid asked, his voice cool and calm, as always.
Maka was just about to speak up and shout that this was not ok, the boy without a tongue in her room was a boy from her district who was just trying to survive, that the Capitol had absolutely no right to do things like that. It was then that Akane put his hand on her wrist, closing around it, like a vice and shook his head rapidly. Maka stared at him for a few seconds before turning towards the door once more, plastering a large cheery smile onto her face once more. "It's fine, Kid, I will be there soon."
After she stopped speaking Akane let go of her wrist as though it had burned him and gently guided her towards the gilded mirror in the bathroom to assist her with removing the make up the sisters had caked onto her face before guiding her towards the shower and stepping out of the room.
Maka stepped under the warm water before stopping. Did it smell like roses?
She laughed now- not a happy laugh, a hateful, disgusted laugh. Her friends were starving to death and she was taking a shower that smelled like flowers before she would go to a meal with enough food that she could feed six families back at home. A home she would never see again because the stupid, pompous, rose-smelling idiots needed entertainment.
She wanted to hit something, she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry.
But the masquerade had already begun.
After her shower, Maka pulled a fluffy white towel around her chest and moved to open the door, where she had heard a soft knock. Akane stood outside, holding up a change of clothing for her. She took them from him and turned back to the washroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Two minutes later she stepped out again, the clothing he had handed her were some of Liz's creations, like she would be wearing for the rest of the games.
Akane guided her to the mirror at the makeup desk once again and pulled out the chair for her, before standing behind her and combing her hair. He swiftly pulled it into twin pigtails, level on her head, before helping her to her feet one, finale time. She looked up at him, at his one, visible eye before he suddenly reached down and tugged on one of her pigtails, a soft smile on his face.
Maka blushed softly before grinning up at him. Just like when they were kids and Akane and his best friend Clay would stop by Sid's house when her and Blackstar were playing outside. It hurt her heart.
He smiled gently once more before placing a gentle hand on the small of her back and guiding her in the direction of the door, while he stayed in the centre of the room.
She almost had her hand on the cool door knob when he made a noise behind her. It was a desperate, pained noise and when she turned towards him, he took three fingers, kissed them and held them up. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favour. Maka gave him a sad smile and nodded, her hand settled on the door knob.
With one last look over her shoulder she pulled the door open and left. The door swung shut behind her.
The noise he had made sounded like a hummed version of her name.
A few feet down the hall, Kilik sat on the floor, his head in his hands. He looked up when she walked towards him.
"Your avox," he said, sounding pained. "Was it..." He trailed off.
"Yeah, it was Akane," Maka said her voice flat.
"And was he also-"
Maka cut him off, this time. "Yes."
Kilik dropped his head into his hands once more. "Fuck, this is so damn fucked up," he, sighed out, shaking. Maka nodded her face pale as she rubbed her skirt with her sweatly palms before she offered Kilik one and when he took it, she pulled him up.
They walked down the hallway to dinner in silence, together.
Dinner itself was a subdued affair. They ate in tense silence, aside from Kid who tried to keep the conversation going, but soon he too gave up and that night as Maka lay in bed, unable to sleep, she felt bad for not talking to him.
Spirit put on a bright, bright smile and woke up his daughter at eight, the same time Kid woke up Kilik.
After she was awake, Spirit left her room so that she could get ready for the day. He wandered down the hallway from her room to the dining area.
She was so much like her mother. Her eye colour. Her hair. Her way of speaking. She was just like her mother.
And now the Capital was taking her away from him too.
Spirit had never wanted to cheat on his wife, he had only wanted to protect her. When the Capitol had given him the choice of do what they wanted or they would hurt his wife and daughter, his choice had been simple. He would do whatever he had to, to keep them safe.
If the Capitol made him sleep with strangers so be it. As long as it kept them safe.
But Kami didn't understand. She didn't know the true evil of the Capitol. She thought the affairs where of his own violation. It had tiredly hurt him that she didn't trust him that much. She never understood, never listened to what he tried to say to her about it.
No. She believed he did it in purpose, that he enjoyed it.
After his wife left him it got worse. Now that he was single more and more people wanted him, they didn't feel shame about it anymore. He would use them sometimes, getting paid in pretty things and books for his daughter, supplies for his tributes. He would do it again this year too. He had to. This was his daughter, the last family he had left. She was everything he worked to protect. And now he might lose her to something he couldn't control.
He was sad, and angry, and scared. He didn't want to lose her, he couldn't lose her.
Over breakfast, the smile that had seemed so evident on Spirit's face had disappeared. His happy mood gone, replaced by the quiet, shy man she had learned to recognize as her father over the last 24 hours.
When he spoke, his voice was flat, even as he told them to try every single station in the training, that it could probably save their life at one point or another in the games.
Maka and Kilik agreed to try everything, their eyes meeting across the table.
At 9:30 Kid brought them the clothing their stylists had made them for training. They were lightweight, dark green cotton t-shirts with their district logo in yellow across the front and stretchy pants. While Kilik's where more baggy, Maka's were very form fitting and when she asked, Kid shrugged and said that Liz wanted her to show off her butt. Maka flushed bright red at this, her cheeks burning. How dare Liz say that as though this was a joke.
All the same, they walked together to the elevator, Spirit pushing the button to take them to the bottom, basement floor where training was.
The training hall itself was very vast.
There were many different rooms with weapons and targets inside them, sealed behind a wall of glass. There were also high blocks, climbing walls, a running track and many skills booths. The booths taught many different skills that would be important for their survival in the games. The tall glass stretching to the roof, sealing the people inside away, almost like a cage where they would be studied and watched 24/7. Like the arena.
Spirit and Kid went into a different elevator with many of the other mentors as Maka and Kilik moved to join the other tributes.
The first day of training passed fairly quickly. Maka learned how to scale walls and how to use various weapons, the bow and arrows hurt her arms but the swords were easy enough to use. To hack and slash.
During the half hour lunch break, the tables where piled high with food and treats. None of the tributes spoke, save for a few people who spoke to the other person from their districts.
All of them looked distinctly guilty at the wasted food.
The second day, Maka made a friend.
The youngest tribute was 13. She was small and thin, and she looked like she was really afraid to be here.
When Maka met her, she was climbing the rock wall.
The girl had climbed up almost 25 feet from the top of the wall where she had taken a break.
This was where Maka had passed by her. The girl was panting heavily from the strain of clinging to the wall while Maka just climbed straight up, her tree climbing background perfect for this.
Maka smiled down at her encouragingly. "You can do it!" She grinned, before taking off up the wall once again.
That day lunch the girl came and sat beside Maka and Kilik, introducing herself as Tsugumi Halberd.
Maka had smiled and chatted with the younger girl, Tsugumi's smile was contagious.
That night when she told her father about her new friend he didn't look to pleased.
On the third and final day of training, Tsugumi had her formerly loose hair in pigtails.
Together, Tsugumi and Maka moved through the activities, like lock picking- which Maka didn't have the patience for- and bandaging minor wounds . Tsugumi skipped some activities, but Maka did them all.
That night Spirit told his tributes to choose what they would be showing the judges. This was a very, very important part of the games. The judges would give each tribute a score, this would help people to choose who to bet on. The people with the higher scores were more likely to get bet on and the people who got the most bets also got the most sponsors.
Maka didn't know what she was going to do. She had no overly impressive skills. Kilik looked worried as well, his face scrunched up as he thought. Maka knew she looked the same.
She could use most weapons well but she didn't know how impressive that would be to the judges. She would have to think of something, however, she needed to get a good score to succeed.
That night as she lay in her bed, she stared at the ceiling, her hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets as she thought.
She didn't know what to do.
Her turn for the training score showing came sooner thaen she had expected.
She wiped her sweaty palms on the pants of her training suit, her heart beating in her ears as she walked over to the centre of the room to begin. May the odds be ever in your favour, she thought grimly.
Spirit stared at the television with apprehension;, the scores
would be displayed soon and he needed Maka and Kilik's scores to be high enough. He felt guilty that if he had to choose which tribute lived, and he knew he would, that he would chose Maka over Kilik.
It hurt him to think that, that he would do that, but Maka was his daughter. He had to protect her, to save her from the Capitol.
He didn't know if that meant letting her live or die in the Games, yet.
The scores were playing across the screen now, alongside the tributes photograph. The scores looked very average so far, a few nines, a seven, and an eight. All too soon Maka was next. Spirit waited with baited breath next to Kid, next to Kilik, next to Maka, as his daughter's face played in the screen, soon accompanied by a number.
She got a 10.
Thank god. Spirit almost cried with relief at how high her score was and that she was still safe for now. He would keep her safe until the end, for as long as she could.
Kilik got a 9.
Spirit pretended that he didn't feel glad Maka had scored higher, the knife twisting in his heart.
The next day was spent in a flurry of activity, Kid prepping the tributes for going on stage to be interviewed. Telling them what was ok and what was not ok to say and do.
Once they were significantly prepared, they were swiftly marched down the concrete hallway towards the dressing rooms where they were dressed in their fancy dresses and suits.
Maka had been put in a dark green silk dress, that almost looked black in the shadows. But in the light, it shimmered and sparkled vividly green. The layers of the dress swisheding around her high heeled feet as she walked towards the large mirror to see Liz and Patty's work this time.
She looked stunning once again. Her arms and shoulders bare, with jewels glued to her skin starting over her heart and spreading out over the rest of her torso before winding down her arms before coming to a stop at the ends of her fingers. The jewels sparkled green and black, with the occasional red one placed into the flower pattern. Her hair was curled up in a high bun, a flower crown resting around the bun.
Kilik's suit was dark green, his shirt underneath was a lighter, pale green- almost yellow, and his tie was in the middle of the two colours. His hair had been rebraided and he stood tall, the jacket fitting his broad shoulders quite well.
All too soon it was time to stand backstage and wait for their turns.
The first few people went, answering the questions as they went. Maka didn't pay attention to all of the tributes, just the ones she knew. The white haired boy from the elevator- Soul, if she recalled correctly, strode onto the stage towards the chairs as though he owned the place. His suit was a perfect fit, as far as Maka was concerned. The fabric was black pinstripe and his shirt and tie were both shades of red as well. He wore the suit like he was born in it.
Blair, the purple haired hostess was immediately enamoured with him, asking him all about his skills, likes and dislikes. All while slowly leaning closer to him, her smile giddy, when she asked him if it was true he played piano.
"How did you find out about that?" Soul asked, looking confused and slightly creeped out. His left hand tapped a frantic rhyme on the leg of his pants before he forced himself to stop, folding his hands together in an act of false indifference.
"I have my ways," Blair said sneakily, grinning like a cat. "It's true though, isn't it?"
Soul nodded, his arms now resting on the sides of his chair and he crossed his leg over the other one. "It's true," he confirmed. "I can play, I have been since I was two, but I'm not very good."
Blair and the audience looked shocked, her hand coming up to her face, covering her mouth before taking her hand away. "I'm sure you are fantastic," she squealed. "How about," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, shaking her finger towards Soul and the audience, " if you win the games, I'll hire you to play at my next party! Wouldn't that be wonderful, ladies and gentlemen?" She asked, turning her attention to the audience once more.
The crowd cheered loudly, showing their approval.
Then the hostess turned her attention back to Soul, asking "What do you say, do we have a deal?" She held out her soft, manicured hand.
Soul grinned and nodded, taking her hand and shaking it. "Deal," he said.
After that, Maka zoned out of the conversation, remembering what Kid and Spirit had told her hours earlier.
She was not to be snippy, rude or mean, no matter what Blair said. She would answer the questions in a way that would appeal to the Capitol. She would not say bad things about the games- Spirit had added this when Kid had left to take a call.
She was to be friendly and honest but not too confideant, but not so unconfident that no one would like her.
All too soon, it was her turn. Blair called her name as Kid guided her his hand on the middle of her back, towards the curtain that would take her up onto the stage. She barely had time to place on her mask of courage before she was pushed through.
The lights where blinding, the cheers loud and echoing as she made her way towards Blair unsteadily. When she got there, her blood roaring in her ears, she shook Blair's hand and allowed the purple haired women to guide her to her seat.
"So, Maka," Blair started. "How are you finding the Capitol. It is your first time here, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's my first time here, I kind of like it, I think it's all so fancy and extravagant!" Maka excitedly exclaimed, letting the excitement get to her as she sat on a brightly light stage looking over a crowd of people.
"Oh?" Blair asked, her hands coming to clasp together as she learned against the armrest of her chair. "Like what?"
"Everything, the rooms, the showers, the clothing, everything," Maka smiled.
"Yeah, your dress is very pretty, would you like to show it off?" Blair asked the devious, cat like smile on her face once more. "Stand up and twirl for us!"
Maka smiled as she complied. She delicately stood up, glad she had spent all that time training with Kid on how to walk in heels (he was quite graceful).
Her dress swished softly around her as she spun, the light glinting off the fabric and the jewels.
When she sat down, Blair was clapping, as was most of the audience, the sounds echoing thunderously around the room. Maka smiled as she moved towards the chair. Her head was still spinning as Blair offered Maka her hand when she stumbled, both women giggling. As Blair helped lower her into her chair, a smile on her face.
"Wasn't she beautiful?" Blair asked the crowd who in response, cheering louder than ever.
Maka blushed prettily before turning back to Blair who had another question for her.
"So, who is your stylist? I absolutely must get something from them They do a wonderful job!" Blair asked.
Maka smiled even wider, her eyes searching through the crowd before her eyes fell on her stylist. "That's her," Maka stated, pointing at her, "That's Liz Thompson!"
Liz stood up and waved jovially, her silvery-blue dress glimmering in the spotlight that was placed on her.
"I see," Blair said approvingly, staring out towards Liz and asking, "Can you design something in purple?"
Liz yelled that she could for sure, and gave Maka a thumbs up. Maka waved in return.
Once all the noise had subsided, Blair turned to Maka once again. "So, let's get serious for a moment," she said. "Is it true that you are the daughter of the previous victor from District Eleven?"
Maka nodded, not daring to open her mouth.
Blair's eyes filled with concern and compassion for the young girl. "And how does your mother feel about you going to the Hunger Games as well?"
At this Maka's already dropping smile dropped completely away. "I don't know, I haven't seen her since I was eight," Maka admitted.
Blair gasped, "Do you mean that you have been raised without a mama?" Her voice was anguished and when Maka nodded, Blair practically wailed. "You poor darling, "she cried out.
Maka shrugged, her fingers smoothing her dress as she replied, "It's not so bad, I had other female role models to look up to."
Blair looked relieved at that, her voice still sad, "but does this mean if you don't win the Hunger Games your poor papa will be all alone?"
Maka nodded, fighting back tears "Yeah," she said, "That's why I have to win."
She took the tissue that had been offered to her, sniffling softly, before apologising, "I'm sorry, it's just hard for me to think about," she said, her voice just the right amount of shaky.
Once Blair assured her that it was ok, that Maka need not worry about this, she helped her stand, pulled her into a tight hug before telling the audience her name one last time.
With that Maka walked off the stage, giving one last wave at the crowd.
Maka barely made it past the heavy blue curtain before she was bombarded. The first person to reach her was the blonde woman with the eye patch she had met in the elevator. As soon as Maka was within grabbing distance, Marie reached up and pulled Maka into a tight hug sobbing about how sad she was for Maka, and how that she would be her mother now, she had always wanted a child.
It took a few minutes, but Marie finally calmed down enough that Maka could untangle herself from the older woman guilt free. It was then that Marie exclaimed that she was going to go find Spirit and tell him that Maka was her daughter now!
Once Marie had composed herself enough, she marched away, her footsteps even.
It was then that Soul spoke up.
"You really nailed that sad stuff, they ate that right up," he stated, his shoulders slumped and his hands in the pockets of his pants.
Maka smiled, "I'm glad you think so, I was worried I had overdone it."
Soul's grin was snarky as he assured her that any forty year old parent would be sure to sponsor her now.
The last night before the Hunger Games, Maka lay in her bed. She couldn't sleep, she was to apprehensive for what was going to happen tomorrow. She had been tossing and turning under the warm, soft covers for 30 minutes when someone knocked lightly on her door, as though they were scared to wake her.
"Come in," Maka softly called out.
The heavy door creaked open to show her father. He looked tired and older then she had ever seen him look before. He walked over to her bed as she sat up. Her papa lowered himself to sit on the side of the bed, wrinkling the once pristine sheets.
"Maka, sweetheart," he started, "I want you to know this, tomorrow we won't have time to speak much, least of all in private. I love you, Maka. I don't want you to ever doubt that, ok?" He said, his voice shaking.
Maka looked up at him, his eyes were misty, and his fists clenched in her blankets.
"I know, papa. I know. I love you, too," she replied, her voice choked.
He hugged her then, he was gentle but desperate. She was his last family he had left. Once her arms wrapped around him in return they stayed that way for a short time before Spirit pulled away.
"You better get some sleep," he started, "you will have a long day tomorrow and you have to get up early." The shadows blocked his eyes, making his face hard to read.
"Good night, papa," Maka called towards his retreating back.
When he reached the door, he opened it, and turned towards her one last time as he stepped through it. "Good night, Maka" he said as the door closed with an oppressing sense of finality.
The next morning came much too soon.
Maka had managed to get at least six hours of sleep before she was woken up by Liz, who looked as immaculate as ever. She held out the clothing she had chosen and made especially for Maka.
The black jacket was warm and water proof, the pants lightweight canvas and flexible with many, many pockets. The t-shirt was green and light. The boots where a perfect fit. They were heavy, but didn't weigh so much as to cause her to move slower, but just the right amount of heavy that she could break someone's nose if she tried (apparently Patty had tested them).
"Liz, could you please cut my hair shorter?" Maka asked, while she was getting ready.
"No!" Liz gasped, "no, you look so pretty with long hair, I can't cut it off!"
"But, it will just get in the way," Maka said, trying to convince her to change her mind.
Liz shook her head, "No," her tone final.
After getting dressed, Maka went to go have breakfast with the others. The meal itself was a subdued affair. Everyone seemed to recognize the end of it all as they sat in silence.
After breakfast, they said their good byes. It was the worst. Liz and Patty said theirs to Maka, pulling her into a tight hug, Kid shook hands with both his tributes, wishing them luck. Spirit was the last to say good bye. He bro-hugged Kilik before moving to hold Maka. When they pulled away, he spoke out in a choked voice, "I managed to get into contact with Blackstar back home. Tsubaki said yes to his proposal. They are getting married after the games. They really want you to be there. Please do your best to be there for their wedding. Also, a Blackstar said - and I agree, you should feel free to use it as a reason to get home, use it to bribe the citizens of the Capitol, heaven knows they love a good party, weddings included. He also said that you should stay safe and try your best to get back to us." Her Papa took a shuddering breath and looking at his daughters face, tears streaming down his own before starting to talk again, "Good bye Maka, I love you."
Maka barely had time to return it before the Peacekeepers swept them out of the doors, and down the hallway. She tried to pull herself together as she and Kilik were guided down the hall. Just before they rounded the last corner, Kilik spoke up, asking the Peacekeepers to pause for a moment, they did, though they didn't lower their weapons.
Kilik used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the tears from her face. "Are you ok?" He asked, his voice serious.
Maka nodded, then smiled. Her mask was back in place as she thanked him and together they moved forwards with the peacekeepers once more.
Their destination was a large hover craft that was parked inside of the large building. The peacekeepers stayed behind in the ground as the tributes entered the plane and took their seats.
The attendants double checked that the safety harnesses were tightly fastened across the tributes chests before the captain took off, flying away.
The ride was smooth. They were in the air for only a few minutes before the attendants came around one more time, this time with a demonic looking tool.
The first tribute they went to was a career boy from district four. They asked him to give them his arm, and he did as they asked, without much complaining. They levelled the gun at his arm and pulled the trigger, causing him to hiss in pain.
"What the fuck was that?" He spat.
"That was your tracker," the women replied, her voice blank before turning to the next person, "give me your arm."
Not long after Maka was rubbing her arm. It wasn't a bad pain but it was unlike one she had ever felt before. The initial insertion was painful and her arm still stung, but what made it different was the fact that the tracker was still inside her arm. It was all around unpleasant.
Not too long after, the hovercraft lowered them to the ground.
The tributes where then unbuckled and separated, guided down different hallways by Peacekeepers to rooms where they were left inside. These rooms were painted stark white and had a strange tube-like object in one corner.
"Please step into the transportation device," a metallic voice rang out in the room. "You have 20 seconds."
Maka looked around. The 'transporter device' looked closed but as she walked closer it opened, releasing a hiss of air.
"Please step into the transportation device, you have 10 seconds."
Maka stepped into the glass tube as the countdown started. It was not a tight fit, but it also wasn't very roomy.
One the countdown reached zero, the metal plate on the bottom of the tube started to move upwards, pushing Maka into the sunlight.