She wasn't sure how fast the train was going. Quite fast. It still amazed her how they could be moving at such a high speed, constantly for however long the journey from 11 to the Capitol was, and yet she could barely even feel it. The impeccable technology invented by the Capitol never failed to amaze her. And them refusing to share that technology with the other Districts never failed to amaze her either.
She sat right by the window, a cushioned seat having been placed there not too long ago. One of the perks of being a victor, meant all the Capitol staff were eager to please, and they fulfilled requests especially quickly. However people always being eager to please wasn't something that she'd miss when she was in the arena, or when she was dead.
The peaceful atmosphere that she had created in her room was interrupted by a knock on the door. A few seconds passed, before the door opened. A head poked around the door. The teal skin, rose lips, and golden eyes meant that the person was none other than Taurus, the District 11 representative from the Capitol, and a friend to many of the previous tributes.
"Have you watched the reapings yet, Laurel?" Taurus asked, walking into the room, and closing the door behind her. When the woman shook her head, Taurus sighed. "You need to know who you're up against, Laur, how else are you meant to prepare?"
Laurel almost let out a laugh at Taurus' comment, and she shook her head at the male. The fact that Taurus thought preparing was still necessary at this point was incredulous. What was there to prepare for? Her death?
"What's the point?" She asked with a scoff. "The way these games have been organised means that I'm going to have to fight victors who are much more skilled than me. Career victors, Taurus. What makes you think I'll be able to survive? I barely survived my first games." Laurel was completely resigned to the fact that these games would be much harder than the previous ones. After all, this was the Quarter Quell, and it was made to accommodate all the strongest people from previous games. Thanks to a certain girl on fire. . .
"Because you are friends with some of the victors." Taurus replied with an equal amount of attitude. "Cashmere and Gloss are the tributes from One, Enobaria's the female from Two, Johanna is the one from Seven, And Cecelia, from Eight." If Taurus thought that informing Laurel that these people were in the Games would make her feel better, it didn't.
"Cashmere, Gloss, and Enobaria won't care if we're friends. As soon as we're in the Arena, it'll be as if the last seven years never happened." Laurel said, with a light shrug. "Johanna's too much of a risk. She might pull a stunt that turns the Capitol against her, and if the Capitol doesn't like her, then there'll be no sponsors, and anyone that's an ally with her will be in danger, And Cecelia? I love her, but she probably won't even make it through the bloodbath."
Taurus shook his head, sighing deeply. When did Laurel get so pessimistic? Then again, anyone who had to go through the Hunger Games not onse, but twice, would probably be more than a little angry. He muttered something quietly, not entirely sure if telling Laurel was the best idea. Unfortunately, the bitter District 11 tribute heard him, and raised her eyebrows.
"What did you say?" She asked. Taurus looked hesitant. He knew that nshe'd find out sooner or later, but did he want to be in the room, or even in the same District when that happened? Oh well. She knew that something was going on now.
"Finnick is the male tribute from District Four."
"I wouldn't drink that if I were you."
Laurel raised her eyebrows and turned to find the source of the voice. Her eyes landed upon who had spoken, and it was Finnick Odair. The Hunger Games heartthrob. She'd never really spoken to the man before, usually because she spent so much time in her room and trying to avoid the other mentors, and. . . well, anyone that would remind her of her time in the Games.
"At least not here." Finnick continued, nodding toward the flute filled with a clear liquid that Laurel was holding in her hand. "You see, when most people drink it, things tend to get a little. . . messy. I'd suggest going into the bathroom first. Unless you want people to see you throw up all over the floor.
Upon realising what the liquid was, Laurel wrinkled her nose, and put the flute back on the table. The Capitol really did have disgusting customs. Although Laurel didn't think any amount of food she put in her body could make her full enough to want to get rid of it all again. She was from District 11, after all, where food was usually scarce.
Finnick let out a laugh at Laurel's face. He'd known that the woman hadn't spent much time in the Capitol, and therefore didn't know much about their customs, but he had thought that she would at least have heard of their little dinner party trick.
"Yeah. . . I had the same reaction when I attended my first Capitol party." The male said. "Some of their customs just seem so foreign to the rest of the Districts. You have to spend a lot of time here to fully understand everything, and I spend a lot of time here."
"Oh I know you do." Laurel retorted. "Everyone knows about what you get up to in the Capitol, Finnick Odair. With your many lovers, none of whom seem capture your interest for long enough." She chuckled.
Finnick's smile slowly dissolved into a light frown.
"That's not the only thing I do with my time, y'know." He said. He wasn't offended, after all, he knew that's how a lot of people saw him. And to be honest, he didn't mind. He'd rather have people think him a manwhore then have to deal with. . . the other option.
"Oh I'm not judging." Laurel said. "I know firsthand how. . . persuasive President Snow can be when it comes to these matters." Her voice lowered slightly, for fear that someone may hear her discussing their leader. Her smile was now clearly pained, which slightly intrigued Finnick. What would she know about this business?
"Did he-"
"Anyway." Laurel cut the man off, eager to change the subject. "Seeing as you know so much about the Capitol's customs, why don't you educate me? I've missed out on so much over the past five years."
Finnick paused for a moment. Clearly Laurel had secrets, ones that she wasn't entirely willing to share just yet. But no matter, secrets were his specialty after all.
"Of course, Miss White, I'd be happy to teach you how to be a Capitol girl." He replied with a smile. He offered her his arm, and she took it, before they began to walk together.
"Laurel. Laurel? Are you even listening?" Taurus asked, sounding exasperated. Laurel's eyes snapped back to her friend. She opened her mouth to lie, before she just chuckled and shook her head.
"No, no I wasn't. Not one bit." She answered truthfully. Taurus' face contorted in annoyance, before he shook his head and laughed a little.
"Typical."
"I was just thinking. . ." Laurel said. "I think I'll try an alliance with Cashmere and Gloss. They're most likely going to pair up with Bruce and Enobaria, and considering our friendships, it shouldn't be hard to get with the careers this time around. That seems like my best option."
"See? I told you that knowing who you're up against would be the best way for you to prepare!" Taurus said with a grin painting his features. "Sometimes I feel like you don't appreciate me enough, Laur."
"Of course I appreciate you Taurus. My foolish but charming friend." Laurel said, smiling. Before she could say anything else, the scenery of the Capitol became visible. Hearing the cheers of her and Chaff's fans, she quickly stood up from her seat.
"Better go and get those sponsors." She said, before leaving her room. She walked to the main carriage of the train, where Chaff was already standing, or rather swaying. Just her luck that her tribute partner would be a drunk.
As soon as the people of the Capitol became visible, Laurel grinned widely, and began waving and blowing kisses to everyone she laid eyes upon. She'd learned this trick in her first games, make the people like you, and you'll get more sponsors. It was the best strategy you could use before you actually got into the Games.
"Here we go again." Laurel muttered to herself.
There was a knock on the door of his room, or rather his suite. The Capitol had really overdone it this time. The accommodation this year was a lot better than it had been nine years ago.
"Come in." Finnick called out, to whoever was behind the door. When it opened, the shuffling footsteps indicated that it was Mags. He turned around, and hurried towards her, so she didn't have to walk too far. He was worried for her. He didn't know how she was going to survive the Games. "What is it, Mags?" He asked.
The woman who he viewed as a mother figure, shakily raised her hands, holding up ten fingers, and then only holding up one. Eleven.
"District Eleven's tributes are here?" He asked. Mags nodded.
"Laurel. . ." Finnick said quietly.