Chapter One.
Beyond the Veil;
The 40th Hunger Games.
Pre-Reapings, Part One.
Lysander Davenport, 18 years old;
District One Male.
My fellow trainers, clad in their uniforms, start to gravitate towards the call-out. Thickly built and beady-eyed, our Head Trainer stares accusingly as they glide towards him. A pack of girls start to mumble under their breath, whispering and gossiping with their weapons cast aside. Immediately, he latches on and barks at them, shutting them up for good.
At the back, the view is spread wide, front entrance to back office in one clear sweep. My fingers flex open, and with a sigh, I let the sword handle slip through and clatter against the training floor. Steel rings out in a high-pitched echo, managing to gain the attention of absolutely no one.
That's good, without their eyes on me, I'm nothing. For the time being, I'm the fly on the wall, an observer. I watch groups congregate towards the massive swarm flocking to their master's call, quietening down into a hush. The lack of fellow eighteen year olds immediately piques my attention, the majority young and high on that energetic, dream-laced energy.
I remember those years, the buzz, the thrill. It was different to now. Back then, I had no idea what I could achieve, what my limits were and my potential. Whether or not I would be the chosen candidate, the most talented at what it is I was prepared to dedicate my teenage years to.
It was exhilarating and pressurizing all clambered into one.
Now, I know what my fate is. What I'm about to do, and I'm excited. Unlike the dark-haired, tanned girl mingling with her uneducated friends, I keep my voice low and thrill to a sub-level. Tallis Altier giggles into the ear of one of her friends, then nudges her shoulder and they look in the direction of a group of acne-riddled, lanky twelve year olds.
It brings about a smirk, at her behavior and at their appearance. Ineptitude doesn't show itself straight away, I wasn't much better looking at their age, so for Tallis to immediately regard the new meat as beneath her and her friends, well, it's stupid.
And that makes my future a hundred times easier.
A stupid District partner is more useful than a well-tuned, mentally strong one. I just have to know what to do and when to strike. It's all about working out how much to show and when to show it, and I'm the best at it. Better than most, at least.
"Lysander Davenport, if you think just because you're the poster boy for this year's recruits that you can hide away in the shadows, you might as well let one of these sorry lot volunteer instead. Get your ass over here."
At his voice, I quickly nod and shuffle forwards, leveling my pace so as not to give away anything. Tallis stares in my direction, smiling and nodding. I return the gesture and sidle up closer to her. Like a pack of immature teen girls, they disband at my presence, giggling behind my back when Tallis moves a curled piece of dark hair behind her ear.
"Good luck today Lysander, you must be so happy to be chosen."
The Head Trainer continues to bark his orders, his final words of a year well done and his welcomings to a fresh batch he promises to 'beat into shape'. I try to focus my attention entirely on Tallis, after all, despite her faults, she's still my fellow companion representing One.
We're here for our District's honor, and if I do fall with the possibility always there, I have to understand that Tallis is the final option for One to get a new Victor. Whether I like it not, she's useful. Regardless of her abundance of flaws.
"After breaking my back for this nut, I'd like to think I'm happy." I chuckle under my breath, smiling, "Yeah, I'm excited."
"Me too," she says with equal vigor. "It's always something I've... wanted." Her smile falters, for an imperceptible second, and still I manage to notice the way her face falls. When her expression returns, as strong as ever, I extend a hand towards her. What was that? Can I use it?
It's best to get her on board now, on my side. I don't know the competition, and an early ally before we're thrown into the thick of things would be wise of me. She might be weak, but maybe there are uses there. Uses I can manipulate when the time comes.
I'm not targeting her because I want to, it's because I have to. Anything to win, it's what our education has centered on. Victory at all costs.
She grips my hand, delicately, shaking it up and down. "Glad to be by your side, Lysander. I like you."
I move my arm in time to hers, only one thing playing on the outside, and a hundred thoughts teeming on the inside. "I like you too."
Gemini Leole, 18 years old;
District Four Female.
'Always Go On.'
I twirl the ring round my finger, examining the carved words around the outer edge. It's a simple, silver ring. Nothing over the top, nothing extraordinary, nothing that someone like me would ever be seen with.
It's the one thing that means the most to me, my prized possession out of all the clothes, jewelery and expensive merchandise brought from my parent's income and delivered to me. I cherish each and every one of my possessions, but it's this ring, those words, that dig around deep inside my chest.
'Always Go On.' This is my life, those words, my motto. Life has a tendency for darkness, so I'm the one who doesn't live it the way people expect out of someone stuck here.
I'm that light, a different kind, someone you wouldn't expect.
"Which dress goes with this necklace?"
Saffron throws a bundle of clothes at my back, colliding with my shoulders and spreading wildly out on my vanity. I throw my hair over my shoulder and stand up, twirling around and jabbing a finger in her direction. "Nothing, that necklace looks like shit."
"Oh ha-ha," she strokes the golden mermaid, attached to a simple, elegant chain. Sometimes Saffron likes to think she's better than me, but like my ring, she's the one person I can't get enough of. The one person I'll always be here for in this depressing world that can't keep me down.
"For starters, you only wear that necklace if you're seeing Jefferson. And Jefferson is an obnoxious ladies-man who'll kiss you, do you, then dump you the next day."
She stamps her foot immaturely and crosses her arms over her chest. "That is not who he is, Gemini," she pouts, brightening to a level of red that matches my hair. "You don't know him like I do. He's not what everyone says he is, he's a good man. He is."
"Sure," I roll my eyes. She's another one so hooked on the idea of true love, eternal, unbeatable love to beat away the idea of there being no hope in Panem. Sweet, certainly, but immature. Stupid. Why fight away something that's trying to pull you down with something that can't hope to ever beat it?
Boys are toys. Fun, cute, playful, I'd do anything to spend my time with them if it suits me and I'm in the mood. But like any toy, I outgrow them, and Saffron should too. True love is painful, it breaks hearts, it damages girls like my naïve younger sister.
I don't let things like that faze me. I have a good time and roll with it.
"So, what do you think?" she bounces up, returning to her previous state as if nothing happened.
I let my eyes gaze over each dress in turn, until they land on a perfect, bright blue dress that in my opinion, suits me better, but would do just as fine stuck on her body.
"That one," I point. "Jefferson may be 'the one', but he's still a guy. He'll do more staring at your chest than your eyes, so use what you have. Low neck line, barely reaches halfway down your thighs. Perfect."
"You're such a slut Gemini, you always pick your clothes based on what makes you look good at the next party. Why don't you just pick something you're comfortable in."
"Saffron," I throw the dress at her, laughing, "you picked the dress. You're as big a slut as I am."
"Impossible."
With that one word, we both burst out in a fit of giggles. She throws more dresses and soon enough, my bedroom is a mess of different shades of dresses, from the brightest of reds to the darkest of blacks. If mother and father saw these they'd throw a hissy fit, but right now, I really don't care.
Today's a good day. It's the reaping. The day I finally take my place up on that stage and reap the rewards of being District Four's beautiful tribute. Saffron supports me, my friends support me, and the guys love the idea of being with a future Victor, so what's not to love about going into the Hunger Games?
Maybe blood and dirt will ruin my hair, or get under my nails, but things like that can be fixed. When I return, alive, beautiful, a star... I'll be the one person no one can get off their mind. The perfect girl.
"Thinking about taking your crown?"
"You betcha, now get dressed and get stuffed. I need to double check everything looks perfect. It's hard work, you know. Maintaining this," I gesture down my body and wave her out my room, laughing in time to the door slowly closing.
Time to get this show on the road.
My show.
My Games.
Charles Craft, 18 years old;
District Six Male.
"No, no, no, no. Stop. Stop, that's not how you do it."
Al whacks the wrench against the sheet of metal, over and over senselessly. He stares at me with wide, curious eyes and then goes back to beating my poor baby to a silver pulp.
"Stop it," I dive for him, grabbing the wrench from his hand. "It's against the gentleman's code to ever hit a lady. And a beautiful one at that."
"It's a lump of metal," he knocks it with his fist, smirking. "See, metal. Plus, it can't be a lady, it doesn't have a v-"
I punch him in the shoulder and laugh. Soon enough, we're on the floor, rolling around in grease and dirt that sticks to my hair, staining my shirt and trousers. Father wouldn't be pleased with me wasting my time like this, but the look on Al's face causes potential worrying to disappear to the back of my mind. On and on we fight, playfully, like brothers you might say.
"Woah, woah, woah. I concede. You win."
He pushes against my chest with his little hands, tiny hands actually. Baby hands. I grip them hard and pull him onto his feet, swiping away the dust and grime coating his shoulders. He sticks his bottom lip out and runs a hand through his hair, flicking out a dead... bug.
"Ew, look what you did."
"What I did? You weren't doing it properly."
Al shakes his head and looks back at his work for the day. It was his job to use the tools to attach the metal over there to the other sheet resting by the door, then for it to be shipped off to be added to the real beauty being constructed. Easy enough, for someone with a brain.
Unfortunately, I don't think Al has one.
"Not everyone shares your love for hovercrafts Charlie, they're noisy, big, and kind of boring."
Before I can open my mouth to reply back, a set of footsteps stops me from something I might regret later. Al and I never hold a malicious thought against one another, but we like to knock each other to the dirt, and it might just be enough to start round two if I continued.
Besides, the person I want to speak to now more than anything walks on through, glowing with the sun streaming behind her.
Britt is the real girl for me, when I'm not tinkering around in here, I can't stop thinking about spending time with her. Blonde hair, pink glasses. Dreamy stuff. When she steps through and stares at us, eyebrow raised, my chest does that fluttering thing it's always done in her presence.
If only... I stare at her, silently hoping, maybe today, being reaping day, she's here to announce her undying love for me. Love, I know isn't there. Love, I wish could exist.
"You two look like you've been fighting in the Hunger Games."
"One of us," I jab a thumb against my chest, puffing it out proudly, "coming out victorious."
Al makes a noise, somewhere between a snort and a laugh. Britt steps forwards and runs a finger along my cheek, wiping away a speck of grease, or a bug, or whatever. I don't see her flick it away, all I see and feel is the heat on my cheek and her finger, her beautiful finger... since when were fingers such pretty things...
"Charlie," she claps her hands and I blink those thoughts away, blushing. Quickly, trying to push away some of the embarrassment, I clear my throat and smile.
"So, what's the plan?"
"You're the big boss man, you tell us. You could play with your 'babies' in here, or maybe come out and see real people."
Al's the first to jump on board, far too eager really. Not one to let my little friend show me up, I step forwards and push them apart. The door lets in a little light from outside, enough to hurt my eyes, but I continue towards it.
Being cooped up indoors doesn't really do me good, but I had Al. Now I have Britt. As long as I have my friends with me, nothing can ever go wrong.
Life is good for me here, it always has been, and I know it always will be. Maybe I'm that guy, the guy to laugh and poke fun at, the guy people treat like a towering buffoon. But I like that role, really, it's nice to make people laugh and feel good about it at the same time.
Britt might not see me the way I want her to, maybe it's never meant to be.
Al, he's a short dweeb who won't share my interests to the same degree I do.
That's alright though.
I am who I am, and I like it. Life is a good thing here, I don't plan on trading it for anything.
Etolie Laville, 17 years old;
District Seven Female.
Sometimes, when things get difficult, I find it easier to barricade myself away. Sometimes, there are places I can go where I can hide rather than face reality. Think through nothing, block thoughts out, cast them away.
The treetops are a sanctuary, a refuge from Panem.
I lean forwards on the end of a branch, staring up at the canopy above and the forest floor below. Plenty of noises ring fresh through the air; axe on bark, lumberjacks bellowing to one another, workers joking or panting through exertion. I take it all in and let out a sigh, falling back against the trunk and digging around to get a better grasp.
When I'm alone, like this morning, it brings about its own sort of bliss. Lack of company means a lack of thought, a lack of control, a lack of a filter that has to be put up to protect others as well as myself.
It's too much, so much to focus on when survival is really all that matters. Society's way of putting together strands of acceptance and taboo, and everything in between, it's hard to really find where I stand amongst it. What I can and can't do. What will result in an easy life, and what will result in a bullet to the skull.
But here, it's nothing. It's freedom.
"Etolie, you're not hard to spot."
And as quick as freedom comes about, a voice can shatter it into pieces.
"Go away," I scowl, barely moving at all. As still as a statue, I feel the wind blow through my hair, scatter the leaves and pull at the branches. She shouts again, cheering my name rather than calling. I don't want to go down, not today. Reaping day isn't necessarily a day to fear, but it's a day that means we're all together. Everyone in Seven, people I don't know, don't like and don't care about. People who expect things of their peers, things I can't return.
"Go away, for the last time." I look over and glare in her direction. Those happy eyes, optimistic eyes. They do nothing except brighten up, sparkling at my rejection because it's all a game to my friend Lakota.
"I'll come up and get you, don't think I won't." She stamps her foot, laughing. As if she can do anything to move me. Lakota is stubbornly playful, a trait I don't like. It's the sort of person I need to be around, and yet need to stay the furthest from. If I want to be who people want me to be, I need her to model myself on. And if I want to be myself, knowing that no matter what I say, people will hate it, I can't be around someone who brings the unwanted attitude out of me.
"You're never normally this boring," she moans in a whining voice that draws out through the breeze. I stare back down, unrelenting, unmoving, and she only meets my eyes and giggles again.
"Starlin wants to see you, he's scared of reaping day. He always has been, he needs his friends about."
"He needs to grow up," I snap back. "Starlin's not a baby, he's been to reaping days before, he knows what they are and what could happen."
Lakota doesn't wince, not like other people. Others hate the way I don't coddle those around me and smother them under obliviousness. Maybe that's why I stick around Lakota, she perseveres. I like determination in people, there are different kinds, my kind and then Lakota's. It's probably why we're still friends.
"If you don't want to come down, you don't have to, but we'd like it if you would. We are your friends you know. Friends care."
"If friends care and you're one of my friends, you'll go away. Sometimes it's easier to relax than face it." I see her mouth open and quickly interject. "I'm not scared, I'm not. I just like time to myself. Time away from people who are too emotional."
"Emotions are good Etolie," Lakota says, sighing and walking away. "They bring people together."
Yes Lakota. They do. Emotions help show people who you are, what you want from your own life and others, what they can do to help you. Emotions build friendships, trust, love and laughter. They build everything someone could want in their lifetime.
She's right, they do bring people together.
But they also pull them apart.
They ruin the things you love the most.
Thanks to Burning Stars, Acereader55, hoprocker and QuietConspiracy for these four tributes.
As usual, a question or two for each chapter, I like people's opinions ;P
Favourite POV?
Which tributes stood out the most and why?
Welcome to Beyond the Veil. Those of you who were following Dreams of Dust, well, things happened and that collaboration had to end, but rather than dump all the tributes and whenever I started another SYOT, gather some more. I thought it was much easier to stick with who I had, and that's why I'm starting this now since they're all ready to use.
This is still in the same verse as Madhouse, set ten years later, you don't need to have read that story to read this, since the Victor will appear, but only rarely and there shouldn't be any mentions of what happened during that story. Victors have been added to the blog on my profile, so you can check that out if you're interested, and the new blog link is also on my profile, though it's pretty much the same as the old one.
Chapter format, six pre-Capitol chapters, four POVs. They're smaller POVs, they'll get bigger come the Capitol, but it's good to get away from this point of the story as quick as possible. Not sure about an update schedule, hopefully it'll be weekly, if not, I apologize since I have another story to write.
Apart from all that, once again thanks to those that submitted those couple of months ago. Thanks for reading, and yeah, I'm excited to get this going!