So sorry this took so long! I had a crazy few weeks. :) enjoy!
They had arrived in the Capitol intact.
Clarke didn't know whether that was a good thing or not. By now she felt resigned to her fate, although she had remembered a few instances where Tributes had died on their way to the Games. That may have been a kinder fate to be given, Clarke muttered to herself. She was standing next to her companions, Kane on her right, Finn on her left. Keenan had resurfaced last night and had proven herself yet again to be kind, much to Clarke's surprise. Kane had given her and Finn generalized tips last night; he wasn't able to give specific advice until he knew who Clarke and Finn were up against.
Clarke had learned more about Kane's history from Keenan after he went to sleep. The older man had been a tribute twenty five years ago at the age of 17. Stuck on a frozen tundra surrounded by dense forests and frozen waterfalls, Kane had waited for most of the tributes to die of exposure before luring them to the mountain, where he caused an avalanche, killing his remaining opponents. Clarke had shivered when she heard the story. Would she be capable of luring other teenagers, who merely wanted to live, to their deaths if it meant she would live? She didn't know, and she didn't want to know. Shaking herself, she glanced to her right. Kane was murmuring with Keenan, and they stopped once they realized that both Clarke and Finn were watching them.
"You should wave," Kane advised. "We're about to turn the bend. You need to act as though you're excited to be here, like you can't wait to be the fan favorite."
Clarke shuddered. "I don't want to," she argued. "It's wrong."
Kane gave her a hard look. "Your responsibility for moral righteousness stopped existing once your name was called."
Finn cleared his throat. "I'll do it." Clarke turned to look at him. He met her gaze tentatively. "I'll do whatever it takes."
Kane gave him a nod of approval. "We're coming around the bend," he said. He gave Clarke a hard look. "Wave if you want to live."
They were getting closer to the Capitol. Clarke's heart beat against her chest as they began to round the bend. In a split second, screaming Capitol members, as colorful as wild birds of paradise, greeted them with caws and screeches. Taken aback by the cosmopolitan jungle, Clarke was too stunned to do anything. Glancing to her right, Kane and Keenan had retreated away from the window, leaving Finn and Clarke alone. She looked back at the circus before her, and began to wave and smile, her porcelain exterior seeming as though it was about to break, but it didn't. Finn was already winking at flamingo-like women and blue tinted men, flirtatiously running a hand through his hair. With a surge of confidence, Clarke slyly blew a kiss at the spectators, grinning at Finn. Maybe, she thought. Just maybe.
...
Clarke was lying on a sterile table. She had been plucked, scrubbed, and waxed in every area imaginable, and was now waiting for her stylist. Mere hours ago she had accepted her death, and now...she wanted to survive. Animal instinct was beginning to course through her.
"Clarke Griffin?"
Clarke sat up suddenly as a tan woman walked into the room, followed by an eerily pale man with a menacing grin.
"Lorelei Tsing," the woman said, offering a sly smile. Clarke immediately felt uneasy. "This is Cage," Lorelei said briskly. She sat down across from Clarke on a small silver stool. Cage gave Clarke a look up and down, his eyes lingering a little too long. Irritation and embarrassment flashed through Clarke as she ignored Cage's burning stare.
"You're a pretty one," Lorelei mused. "I met Finn a few minutes ago, you two will make a good pair." She flashed a knowing glance at Cage. "We've decided to do something nobody has ever done before," Lorelei said earnestly, leaning forward. "Cage and I have been wanting to change things up for a while," she whispered. "District 12 is the mining district. Diamonds are made out of coal, which you mine. So, we're going to make your outfits diamond themed," Lorelei revealed with an excited smile.
Clarke didn't smile back.
Lorelei ignored this, and turned to Cage. "We need to get her measurements," she ordered. After Clarke was forced to undress and be examined, she quickly threw her gown back on, uncomfortable.
"That's all we need for now," Lorelei murmured. "Your mentor will come back in to take you to your residence floor." Clarke nodded, her gaze avoiding the disturbingly dark eyes of Cage and the waxy complexion of Lorelei. The duo left the room quietly, and Clarke was left alone again, sitting in her gown as she nervously tapped her fingers on the table. She stood up suddenly and began to pace, subconsciously scanning the room for a hidden exit.
The door opened softly. "Clarke?" She spun around to see Kane in the doorway, holding a pile of clothes. "I'm sorry about all of this," he said softly, moving forward. He handed her the fabric, and watched her intently. Clarke mustered up a small smile.
"Thank you," she murmured.
Kane sighed softly. "You can change, and we'll go back to home base."
Clarke nodded. Kane turned around and left the room, waiting outside while Clarke changed into synthetic sweatshirt and leggings, along with a pair of sneakers. Clarke had never been in clothing that fit so well. Stepping out of the room, she walked silently with Kane for what seemed to be a long time until they arrived at the top floor of the residence building. Stepping into the cool, airy space, Clarke felt a rush of indescribable emotion. The space was beautiful. The ceiling glimmered with crystals and furniture was draped in shimmering burgundy fabric. Finn stepped out from a separate room to greet the pair. Keenan silently slipped out behind Finn.
"You two should get some rest," Kane ordered. "You have a long day tomorrow. It's the first day of training, and you need to be prepared to make a good first impression."
Clarke and Finn nodded dutifully, both of them well aware that nerves would prevent them from getting a good night's sleep. After a few more exchanges of conversation, Clarke slipped down a short, dimly light hallway to find what Keenan had said was her room. She opened the door. It was just as beautiful as the rest of the apartment, even if it was a little minimalistic. Everything was sculpted out of metal, and a wall that appeared to be a digital window depicted a scene of space. Clarke sat down on the bed. It was plush, and its dove gray comforter was tinted blue. The space was much more calming than she expected it to be. A lone tear pricked her eye, and she furiously shook her head. She couldn't cry. Not now, she told herself. She had to be strong. For her mother. She couldn't leave her alone, not after he father was murdered for treason. Clarke wondered wryly if the Capitol had rigged The Reaping, in order to get rid of her too. Pushing away the thought, she slumped backward onto the cloud of her bed. The tear escaped her eye and trickled down her cheek, taking its time, as if it knew it was alone and wanted to stay as long as possible with its only company. Closing her eyes to prevent more tears from leaking out, Clarke turned to her side, and darkness overwhelmed her.
...
Clarke was standing in front of her chariot, trembling slightly as she glanced around her. The other tributes, of whom she didn't know the names of, were staggered around as their makeup crews doted on them. She glanced down at her hands. They were shaking. She clenched her fists, her knuckles a yellow-tinged white as her skin braced against bone. Clarke exhaled shakily. Her fingers were adorned in glittering gems. She didn't want to know if they were real diamonds. She knew that after the parade, the costumes would be forgotten. All that wealth, she thought angrily, money District 12 would kill for, and it just went to waste. She had noticed it more and more as she spent more time in the Capitol. Exorbitant wealth, for nothing. For show, nothing more.
"Clarke, dear," a slimy voice whispered in her ear. She jumped as Cage's hand touched the small of her back. Cage. "Lorelai brought a mirror," he announced huskily. "You can see what you look like for yourself." Holding back a shudder, Clarke moved slowly as Cage turned her around to face the mirror. Clarke blinked.
The white gown fit her perfectly. Diamonds, stitched onto translucent, shimmering filmy fabric that reached just above her chest, were scattered down her bosom and down her waist. As the gown hugged her hips, the bright stones began to grow in density and by the time the fabric reached her feet, it looked like she was standing in piles of glimmering gems. Her blonde hair flowed down her back, aided by extensions she had attempted to resist, but were forced onto her regardless. Her gaze finally reached her face. She didn't look like herself. Like a more glamorous, perfect version of herself. Clarke lifted a hand to touch her cheek, to see if she was real. Cage grabbed her hand quickly and brought it down, away from her face, his fingers lingering on hers for much too long.
"Don't," he said softly, his damp breath hitting Clarke's neck. Suddenly, Cage disappeared from her side as Kane shoved him away, giving him a warning look as he did so. Kane sighed, and scanned Clarke's face, his expression turning almost paternal. Or so Clarke thought, before she glanced away.
"Are you okay?" He asked quietly. Kane glanced over his shoulder. "That should be the last of him," he said harshly. "I'll talk to him later." Clarke blushed. She had dealt with creeps in District 12 before. She didn't need an adult's help with Cage.
Clarke nodded. "I'm fine, Kane."
Kane searched her gaze for a moment, then turned to Finn, who was standing a few feet away, dressed in a white, shimmering suit adorned with diamonds. His hair was being smoothed back by Lorelai while Cage watched, his gaze constantly flickering back to Clarke with a look of longing and frustration. She averted her gaze.
"It's time," Keenan announced as she bounced back. She looked Clarke up and down. "You look amazing Clarke. You too, Finn."
"Thanks," Clarke muttered.
"Time to get into the chariot," Keenan continued, ushering them into it. A flash of terror rushed through Clarke as she anticipated the crowds. She felt overexposed, and Cage's unnerving stare wasn't making her feel better. The chariot jolted forward as Clarke and Finn rounded out the end of the line. Glancing behind her, she caught Kane's comforting gaze as he nodded. It didn't make her feel much better, but he had told her that although Lorelai and Cage were unlikeable, they knew how to wow a crowd. She would have to take his word for it.
The song Clarke had come to despise after years of continuous viewing of the Games roared over the speakers, and the first, then the second, then the third chariot surged forward. The rambunctious and ravenous crowds shrieked as they saw their prey. Suddenly it was their turn to go as well. Clarke turned to Finn, fear paralyzing her. His dark brown eyes met hers. She understood instantly; he was just as scared as she was. His lower lip trembled as they emerged into the blinding sunlight, and the two turned around rapidly as feverish noise crashed down around them.
She was in a zoo, Clarke realized, as they glided down the paved path towards President Jaha. She had never been to one, she knew, but she imagined it would be like this. She was mere entertainment as the crowds jeered and pointed, their garments garnished in bleeding shades of neons and metal, feathers pointing out of their hair, scales on their skin like they were lizards. Someone grabbed her hand. Finn. She instinctively pulled it away, but he grasped it tighter.
"Keenan told me to," he said quickly. Relaxing her hand, Clarke turned to wave to the crowd, catching a glimpse of herself in the cameras. The girl staring back at her was scared. Not that the crowd would guess. The Clarke on the screen was smiling and waving, a picture of classic beauty. But her eyes were brimming with tears, her face paralyzed as she barely held it together. She was nothing but entertainment. A body, but not a soul. The way Cage saw her was the way the rest of the crowd saw her. Clarke felt her hand being lifted up, and roses being thrown on the chariot, but she barely realized what was going on around her. Her blood had turned cold and icy. She was a meal to be eaten and consumed, thrown up later like they did in the Capitol when they wanted to eat more food but were stuffed to the brink of nausea. What would they spit out once they were done with her? With Finn? The Kane they had spit back out was a broken man. Clarke wished that she wouldn't live. She would rather not know what they did with her carcass once the Games ended. She didn't want to live through it.
They had come to a stop. Clarke looked up at the imposing stature of President Jaha, his deep brown skin glowing in the harsh sunlight. He tapped the microphone, and the crowds immediately died down. Clarke's ears rung in the void of silence.
"Welcome," he began, offering a large smile. "Tributes," he continued. "We welcome you. We salute…the courage…and your sacrifice," he said slowly, emphasizing his words. The President locked eyes with her. There was something in his gaze that unnerved Clarke. It was if he knew something that she didn't. He broke her gaze. "And we wish you Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor," he finished, stepping back from the podium. An elderly white haired man immediately went to his side, and President Jaha vanished into a swarm of officials. The chariot began to move again, and Clarke wanted desperately to get off of it. Shock had frozen her, Finn's hand still intwined in hers. She looked at him; his brows were knitted together as panic and grief flooded his expression. Tears began to stream down his cheeks, and Clarke, shocked, looked away, trying to offer him privacy. She gently squeezed his hand. Finn squeezed back after a moment, holding her hand tightly as his shoulders shook softly. They arrived into the atrium they had left from, and Clarke managed to jump off the chariot, wriggling her hand out of Finn's iron grasp.
"You were amazing," Keenan gushed, hugging Clarke. She carefully reciprocated the hug. She glanced around once Keenan released her and moved on to Finn. Lorelai was standing off to the side, her expression unreadable. Cage had disappeared.
"You did well."
Clarke turned. Kane stood next to her, his expression serious, but his eyes soft. He looked up suddenly, looking over her shoulder. Clarke spun around. Two tributes standing next to their chariot, clad in golden armor, were watching the group with unreadable expressions. They looked oddly similar, yet different. The boy was tan, with dark curly hair, and the girl was lithe, her expression fierce and her features sharp. Kane grabbed Finn's shoulder.
"Let's go," he said worriedly, as they turned away from the pair. Clarke glanced over her shoulder again. They were still watching.
...
7:00 A.M.
That was the time.
Clarke shivered. She had woken up at 6:00 to a soft knock at her door. Jumping up, she had looked to see Keenan standing there, looking at her as if she was a lost puppy. She wasn't, she had thought viciously as she had gotten dressed into a loose charcoal gray t shirt and synthetic leggings. Clarke had scraped her hair back into a loose braid, and picked at a lavish breakfast with Finn, Kane, and Keenan. She was standing outside of the entrance to the training arena, her knee jiggling as she stared at the clock. It was 7:01 now. She was called back from her thoughts by a sudden movement. Her gaze flashed to Kane, who had come to a stop in front of Finn and Clarke.
"Stick together," he began. "don't make any alliances just yet. We're going to talk about that tonight. Be friendly to the other tributes," Kane warned, "but not overly friendly."
"But they're going to start making alliances," Finn protested. Clarke nodded, unable to help herself. What Kane was telling them to do was suicidal. She couldn't win this alone. Clarke glanced at Finn. Even with his debonair and flirty personality, she doubted he could either.
"You don't need to worry about that," Kane said, desperation seeping into his voice. He met Clarke's gaze firmly. Something in his warm, honey-brown gaze told Clarke that he knew something they didn't. She nodded slowly. Finn glanced at her, and threw his hands up in the air, frustrated.
"Focus on learning survival skills first," Kane continued. "Then move onto defense." The metal doors began to creak as he pushed a small, glowing button. "Good luck." He disappeared down the adjacent hall and vanished out of sight as the doors , Clarke stepped into the arena.
It was enormous. Tall, midnight black ceilings soared upwards until the human eye couldn't see them anymore. Large, metallic nets were draped around the stadium. It must have been a quarter of a mile long, Clarke calculated. She could discern several different training stations, but couldn't figure out what they were for. Her gaze moved to fixate on the tributes inside. A cluster of three well-muscled, intimidating teenagers were lumped next to the knife rack. Their gazes were fixed on Clarke and Finn. Clarke swallowed. A lithe girl with dark hair and scars across her face was staring at her like she was a piece of prey. The boy next to her didn't look any better. Thick dirty blonde hair fell to his broad shoulders, and the same scars lined his cheekbones. He looked Clarke up and down, his expression indescribable.
"Ontari and Roan."
Clarke jumped as Finn loomed next to her right shoulder, whispering in her ear. "They're from District 4."
Clarke glanced at the girl next to Roan. Taller than Ontari, she too was lithe, but her expression was less arrogant. "What about her?"
"Echo. District 7," Finn replied.
Clarke nodded. They walked past the three, ignoring their penetrating gazes as they entered what appeared to be the center of the arena. It was obvious that not all of the tributes had arrived yet. Clarke coughed involuntarily- the air tasted like metal and foreboding, and it scraped her throat as fans churned overhead. Panic pulsated through her, but she pushed it down. Not now; not yet, she scolded herself. She could panic in private later. Everything that she did was in full view of the Gamemakers and potential sponsors. Clarke swallowed, flashing Finn a knowing glance. They strode over to a mat below a net and sat down, watching the other tributes.
Finn spoke suddenly. "Lincoln and Maya," he whispered softly, leaning towards her. He pointed quickly to a muscular dark-skinned boy with a gentle, yet fierce demeanor and an incredibly pale girl, with untamed black hair. While Lincoln seemed to be more unreadable, anticipation was palpable on Maya's delicate face. "District 11." Lincoln turned to Maya quickly and whispered something to her. She smiled softly, relief flooding her expression. Clarke's chest tightened. Did they know each other before The Reaping? Maya giggled softly, and Lincoln offered her a gentle smile.
"Who's next to them?" Clarke murmured, her eyes swiveling to Lincoln and Maya's companions.
"Jasper, District 5," Finn replied. Clarke fixed her gaze on a gangly teen with thick dark hair, and an anxious expression. Clarke watched him squint before he continued. "Pretty sure that's Raven and Monty from District 3." She glanced at a tense asian boy whose expression was guarded. Raven's line was long and clean, but she didn't appear to be as well-muscled as Echo or Ontari. Not a trained warrior, Clarke noted.
"None of them seem to be trained," Finn said, as if he was reading her thoughts. She flashed him a glance, her surprise barely concealed. "Lincoln looks pretty powerful though. The rest are goners."
"You don't know that," Clarke bickered, rolling her eyes. Don't underestimate your opponents, Kane had said. It seemed as though that hadn't registered in Finn's apparently thick skull. He ignored her.
"See them, over there," he began, his voice more confident. Clarke looked over to the group of obviously young tributes. "Charlotte, Aden, and Zoran. They're not strong. They're not powerful. Unless they're genuises, they'll be killed in the first bloodbath." Charlotte was the oldest and largest of the group, but she was the most obviously distressed. Aden, a lean and limber twelve year old, was calm and poised. Clarke narrowed her eyes. He seemed awfully confident for an underdog, she mused, unless it was an act. Zoran was shielding his face, so Clarke couldn't see him easily. But Clarke couldn't disagree with Finn. It was unlikely they would survive. She shook her head. Of course not all of them would survive, Clarke registered as horror crept up her spine. I'm looking at dead kids, she realized as goosebumps rose on her arms.
Another door opened. Everyone in the arena turned to see the rest of the tributes led in by a commanding woman with long dark hair. She blew a whistle and Clarke and Finn jumped to their feet, Clarke's heart pounding.
"Can everyone hear me?" She asked. The tributes had gathered around her in a large semicircle. The group had multiplied in a matter of seconds, and anticipation and uneasiness rattled Clarke. Her nerves jangled as she tried to focus on the woman in front of her, not her competitors.
"I'm CeCe," she began. "You're about to begin training. Today is focused on the basics: testing physical strength and mental agility, as well as perseverance, endurance, and strength of will. The next two days will be specialized training, where you'll have some exercises that are mandatory, but the majority of your time will be self-directed." Cece paused. "Now, you need to listen to what I'm about to say very carefully," she began. "In two weeks, 23 of you will be dead. Most from natural causes. Everyone wants to grab a sword, but exposure is your real enemy out there," Cece finished. Clarke swallowed again, her throat constricting.
A burly man stepped forward. "I'm Pike," he said brusquely. "First, we're going to test your speed," he announced. "Everyone get on the track." Clarke looked around, confused, until she realized that a running track encircled the training arena. The tributes shuffled over in silence, each looking at others carefully, but avoiding meeting their opponents' gazes.
"Six laps," Pike announced. "That's a mile and a half. Get yourselves ordered. No pushing or shoving, or general physical contact. I don't want to know if you can trip your competitors, I want to know if you can run a mile and a half," he said sternly. The tributes lined up. Clarke's heart pounded in her chest. She didn't know the physical tests would be first.
"GO!" Pike roared.
The tributes surged forward. Clarke could immediately foresee the outcome of the race. Ontari, Roan, and Echo surged to the front, followed by two tributes she had recognized as the ones from the parade yesterday. Clarke kept pace with Finn for the first three laps, adrenaline surging through her. Her breath started to come in jolts as she passed a mile. She was squarely in the middle of the pack, but she realized that Raven was beginning to catch up to her while Jasper began to slip behind as she passed a bend. Finn had already caught up to some of the career tributes in front. Clarke was neck and neck with a grimy tribute with a hooked nose as she barreled across the finish line, her breath coming in heaving gasps. She looked up at the screen as it flickered on, revealing the places of the Tributes in the race. Clarke had finished 14th. Not bad, she commended herself. She had never been one known for her athletic abilities. Finn had finished at 9th. Clarke recognized Lincoln, who was in 7th place. The rest of the tributes she had seen with him before, with the exception of Raven, who had nabbed the 12th spot, were behind her.
"Okay," Pike announced. The Tributes, once again, gathered around him like cattle. Clarke pushed down a simmering anger. This wasn't fair. But it was reality. "Next, you have to complete the ropes course in as little time possible without falling. If you fall, you're disqualified."
The Tributes nodded silently. Clarke felt as though she was a robot, a nameless face in a crowd, as she shuffled into order. Clarke and Finn rounded out the line. Nervousness tickled her again. She wished she didn't have to go last.
A muscular, dark-skinned boy from District 1 began first. He swung his way though the ropes course with some difficulty, most likely due to weight from his sturdy frame. A tan girl followed him, her dark brown hair flying in the wing as she nimbly wove through the ropes faster than her District 1 counterpart. The pair from District 2 followed next. They were the ones at the parade, Clarke realized. More career tributes, she assumed. They finished reasonably quickly. As the line continued down, Tributes from each district had more trouble. Jasper, Monty, Charlotte, and Zoran all fell. Raven managed to keep herself on until she plummeted just before the end. Sweat coated Clarke's palms as Lincoln completed the course swiftly, and Maya, just after him, fell at the beginning. It was Finn's turn. She watched with anticipation as he began across the course. She held her breath as he lost his balance on a tightrope and clung to the rope in desperation, desperately trying to scramble back onto the course. With no avail, Finn plummeted into the mat.
It was her turn. Clarke grasped a rope handed to her by Pike, and jumped off the ledge. She swung wildly towards another rope, and quickly grasped it, hopping off the first rope. Clarke shimmied up the rope as she tried to get to a ladder stretched out above her, terror flooding through her as she contemplating falling, and damaging her already less than good score. Reaching the top, she reached for the ladder, but missed. Swinging wildly, Clarke tried to regain her balance, but flipped over backwards, landing face-first on the mat in an instant. Something hot ran all over her face, and as she sat up quickly, she touched her nose. Blood gushed down over her lips, dripping off her chin. Her cheeks turned bright red as she realized that her team, the Gamemakers, and potential sponsors were watching her, not to mention her opponents.
"Here."
Clarke glanced up. Pike had knelt down next to her and handed her a piece of cloth. His eyes twinkled with something similar to compassion, the light hitting his stern face in a way that showed every line, every wrinkle near his eyes. Clarke suddenly realized that he didn't want to do this. That he hated seeing Tributes fall, hated seeing teenagers he had seen alive a few days earlier dead on a screen as he sat in his living room, alone. Clarke broke her gaze away from his. She didn't need his pity.
"Thanks," she muttered, pressing the cloth against her nose. Pike stood up, and the other tributes began to walk away. Ontari and Echo looked back at Clarke, stifling giggles. Shame burned through her body as she looked down at her blood-covered hand.
"Are you okay?"
Clarke jumped and looked up. Jasper had knelt down next to her, his brown eyes uneasy as he avoided her gaze.
"Yeah," she said, starting to stand up. "Thanks," she added, watching him. Jasper offered her a quick, goofy grin.
"Gotta watch out for each other in here," he proclaimed. "While we can," he added after a beat, his voice softer. Clarke nodded awkwardly. Kane had told her not to make alliances. But she was starting to agree with Finn. What if today was her only chance? Clarke held herself back. Kane knew what he was doing, she reminded herself.
Jasper lingered around, obviously uncomfortable. "You're Clarke," he said. "From District 12."
"Yeah," Clarke replied, avoiding his gaze as they joined the rest of the Tributes. She could feel the unnerving eyes of the tributes from District 2 watching her as Clarke and Jasper slid in next to Finn.
"Hey, you good?" Finn asked, his eyes swimming with concern. Clarke blushed again.
"Seriously," she repeated, "I'm fine."
"Okay," Finn replied, obviously not convinced. Clarke ignored him, and focused her attention again on Pike.
The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of compulsory training exercises. Clarke adeptly started a fire and identified poisonous plants, making up somewhat for her dismal fall on the ropes course. She stayed away from the rest of the tributes, save for Finn. Some of the other tributes kept watching her and Finn. Clarke tried to shake off a feeling of anticipation. She knew she was missing something, but she wasn't sure what it was. Clarke looked down at her hands, still stained with blood. She knew that however the Games ended, she would have more blood on her hands than she had ever envisioned.
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