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Darien Faust
District Two Male, 18 Years Old
"Still up for that offer of having some fun, Caelia?"
Chuckling softly, I glance over my shoulder, the sword still gripped in my hand. Caelia robotically stiffens her back, places down her dagger, and brings her finger up to Trent's chin. She raises his chin a little, and as he smirks, Caelia doesn't even do much as let her mouth twitch.
"It's flattering, but the only thing I would ever to you is kill you, Trent."
"And what about after you kill me?" Trent teases, making me chuckle again.
"That's called necrophilia," I interject, going back to practicing with my sword. I swing it a few times, slicing up the dummy from its legs to its neck. "And District Two does not condone that."
"Do not interrupt, kiddo."
"Excuse you, Trent. That is my friend," Caelia feigns whining, scooping back up the dagger in both of her hands. She looks me up and down, and then looks at Trent again. "Take care of him, Darien. He's being a bully."
I nod towards Trent, and as he opens his mouth to say something else, I quickly cut him off. Although I do enjoy his grating presence, there comes a point where enough is enough. He's just one of those types of people.
"You heard the girl."
Placing the sword back on the rack, I shuffle towards Caelia's area, leaning against the wall behind the dummy. She hacks away at it, not really giving me much regard, but she's good at multitasking, apparently. She can talk and kill at the same time – isn't she just lovely?
"What are the rest up to?" Caelia asks, and as I look around the Training Center, I see Larron off on his own, as is Darya. Darya's still with the spears, while Larron is just hanging around the survival skills. "That includes Ines. Where's she at?"
"Does it matter?" I ask, not being able to find her around. For one thing, I haven't seen her around much, but I know she has to be here somewhere. There are a lot of tributes, anyway, and a lot of stations. "You're still the finest one of them all."
"I like it better when Trent says it," she replies, looking up from her dagger and dummy. As Caelia turns around for a moment, we both look to see where Trent's gone to, and we see him hovering near the plant identification station where the girl from District Eleven and the boy from District Twelve are.
"That's creepy," Caelia comments, shrugging her shoulders. "They might be too young for him."
Caelia doesn't give me a chance to respond, going right back to attacking the dummy. I watch her technique, the way her form reflects everything District Two has taught her. The way her arm is angled, the force of her swipe, her recoiling.
I wish I could do that.
I wish I could be like her.
But, I never could and I still can't be. I was always second-rate in the Training Center back in District Two, never reaching the standards set by the Trainers themselves. But, I stayed there, not wanting to give up. I tried and tried, yet nothing came of it.
I still am that second-rate trainee from District Two, but now, I'm a tribute. I'm more than some trainee now.
"Just going to sit there and look pretty?" Caelia asks, giving me a quick smirk. "At least tell me about some of the tributes. I like hearing you talk."
I shrug my shoulders, complying with what Caelia has asked me. I'm not really doing anything, anyway, and I don't want to touch anymore weapons. I'll do it tomorrow, since it is the last day of training. I've done enough for the day. As I look around the Training Center, I say whatever comes to my mind first.
"The boy from Eleven – Trevor, right?" I say, tapping my fingers against the wall I'm leaning on. "He's strong. He could probably kill Larron."
"Anyone could," Caelia comments, giggling. "No, I'm sorry. I take that back. He has a nice personality."
"His hair is cool," I reply, shrugging my shoulders. He's not a bad guy, either. Getting bored of just scouting the tributes, I decide to make a joke and say, "Darien, the one from Two looks alright. He's muscular. Tall. Handsome."
"I heard he has daddy issues," Caelia sneers, rolling her eyes, pausing for a moment from her dagger. "That's why he volunteered, apparently."
At the mentioning of me volunteering, I tense up, choosing not to respond anymore. I stare at Caelia, now wondering why she volunteered. Did she volunteer for the wealth? For the fame? Or for a personal reason? Did she volunteer for the same reason I did?
To prove herself?
Isn't that why we're all here, anyway? To prove ourselves one way or another? I'm here to show District Two what I'm capable of. I might even doubt myself here and there, but at the core, I know it's why I'm here. I was fed up with the way life was going on back in District Two, and it was time for change.
I had enough.
Enough of the Training Center, enough of the other kids, enough of the person I was.
"Touchy subject, hm?" Caelia asks, fixing her hair in the reflection of the metal table. She makes a face, ending it with a smirk in my direction. "It's personal, I get it."
"Yeah," I say, sighing. "Personal."
But, I can't get the thought out of my mind. Just by Caelia mentioning me volunteering, now I think about it. At the time of the Reaping, I just sprinted up there. No real thought process, just pure impulsiveness. Do I regret it, though? Do I wish I were back in that same home with the same people?
No. I'm here now and I have to accept that.
I'm here to win… It's what I volunteered for. It's what I trained for. It's what my life has revolved around.
This is what I want.
And I have to start acting like it is.
Liora Marcette
District Six Female, 16 Years Old
"You're the one who volunteered, right?"
At the sound of the male voice, I plaster a smile on my face, widening my eyes a little. I turn around slowly, playing with the ends of my hair a little, and when I see who it is, I gush a little. The boy from District Four, Trent, with his broad shoulders and styled hair stands in front of me, a silly grin on his face.
A boy.
I like boys.
And boys like me.
"How'd you know it was?" I ask, as if the question wasn't obvious. Anyone with a pair of eyes could figure out that it was me. The girl from District Six who volunteered, the girl she volunteered for being all too familiar to her. But, yes, that was me.
I was the one who volunteered.
The one who regrets it.
"I could never forget a body like yours," he says, winking a little. I tilt my head to the side, placing the hunk of metal down now, smiling some more. Looking him up and down, I see him looking at me, and then I get the idea. This could be my outlet.
My outlet to get an ally. Or, in this case, allies.
This is my chance to infiltrate the right crowd of people in the Hunger Games. The Careers – that's who everyone is scared of. Who everyone wants to be, the group that runs the Games. They are the group I want to be in.
They are the group I have to be in.
"You don't have to," I flirt back, making myself sick to my stomach. But, I'll always take a compliment from a fine man like himself, and frankly, I'm getting something out of this. Flirting isn't as far as I would go, but not in front of everyone here. I'll save that for later on.
As I look behind Trent, I see the rest of the Careers huddled around each other. They're all there except for the girl from District One, Ines. I noticed that she never attached herself to them from the beginning, so that only leaves the door open for me. I can join that alliance.
I'll say whatever it takes and do whatever I must to get into that alliance.
Then, I'll be with the right people. The ones who will reflect my skills and fortes, balancing out the rest. I deserve to be in a group like them, anyway, even if I come from District Six. I was always smarter and wealthier than anyone from that District, anyway. It only makes sense for someone of my status.
First, I just have to work on Trent. He'll be easy, though. They all are.
"So, what brings you over here, Trent?" I ask, not really caring too much at all. I have to start this somewhere, though, and if I have to drone on about something so trivial then I will. "Did I allure you in that easily?"
Trent chuckles, nodding his head. "Just wanted to see what you were all about. A volunteer from District Six is unheard of. What are you in it for, anyway? The fame? The money?"
My smile faults a little bit, but I regain my composure, not wanting to discuss that or think about it right now. I already thought about me volunteering from every angle, all of it giving me a headache. I wink at him, saying, "You don't have to worry about that."
"I like a girl with mystery," he says, as if he's speaking under his breath. I'm glad he likes me; I would too. "What are you doing over here all alone? There's no way someone else hasn't tried to pick you up yet."
I raise my eyebrows, not wanting to remind him that this is the Hunger Games. Not some social gathering where he can take me home –if it was that, anyway, I would go home with him in a heartbeat – but I'll let him believe whatever he wants. If he has some infatuation with me and craving for me, that makes it that much easier to get into the Careers.
I shrug. "All alone," I say, twirling my hair. "What about you? Have the Careers congregated yet?"
Trent gestures with his head over his shoulder, and as I look passed him, I see them still all standing there. The girl from Two has her arm wrapped around the boy from Two's neck, while the boy from One and girl from Four just stand off to the side. See? They could use me.
Everyone could use me. Literally, they could. If I use people, I should get it in return. People always have, anyway.
"Yeah," he says, not really interested in them it seems. "We do have one less member, though."
There we go.
"Hm, there's only five this year?" I ask, the smile on my face only growing because I know I've got him. He's already mine and he doesn't know it. "What about that sixth member?"
Trent winks. "We're just, you know, surveying the rest to see if anyone fits the bill."
"And have you found anyone?"
"I think I have."
As Trent turns around, he holds out his hand behind him. When our hands come into contact, I smile, seeing him smiling the angle of his face. I wrap my hand around his, and as he leads me off towards them, I feel accomplished. Even if it took a few lies and a few exaggerations, I got it. I got him exactly where I wanted him.
Even if this isn't me, it's the only way I'll get anywhere. Here, do you really have to be yourself?
I never have been able to me myself, anyway.
That was never good enough for anyone.
But, now, I don't have to worry about that. I am good enough for everyone know – I am. I am the whole package, the package that the Careers have fortunately picked up to add to their little clique. I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere.
I'm not doing this for Elise now. It never was, anyway, but everyone thinks it is. This was always for me. For my reputation, for my image.
And you know what would make me look that much better?
Winning.
And so I will.
It'll be fitting for someone like me.
Ardell Chanson
District Nine Female, 18 Years Old
Make a friend. Find an ally.
Those were Amaranth's words. To find a friend, to make an ally. I'm sure that was easy enough Amaranth – the woman who used to be a beautiful blonde – during her Games. It continued to be easy for her, anyway, when she came back to District Nine. Once Dakota won his Games, they clicked together well.
Amaranth has someone. Dakota has someone.
But, can I really compare the two? They are adults. I am only eighteen, while my District partner, Riel, is sixteen. Would he even be interested in an alliance? In a… friendship?
I've never been interested in friendships or any sorts – they never work out for me, or anyone, for that matter. Anyone I meet always end up getting hurt in some way, so I choose to stay away. I choose to distance myself, to not get close enough to anyone.
That still doesn't stop me from asking myself if I want an ally, though. Riel is my top choice, but would he be interested? He's always so quiet, always off by himself. He was talking to a few other tributes before, but then he just walked away, the same expression on his face.
Is he looking for one?
Is he listening to Amaranth's advice? Does that mean I should as well?
It's not that easy, though. It never is that easy.
I always end up getting what I want in a friendship, but not what I need.
Yet, everyone else here has a friend already. The Careers have each other, as well as some other random alliances. The boy from Ten, Twelve, and the girl from Eleven, for example. They have each other – and who do I have?
No one.
I never have.
Turning my back to everyone, I stare down at the station in front of me, the plants and leaves all crumpled together in a messy pile. I move my hands through it, not really knowing if I should be touching any of it and not really caring, either. Right now, I'm stuck in this empty space, not sure where to go or who to interact with. Is that my fault, anyway?
Shouldn't people want to approach me?
"Hi. Your name is Ardell, right?"
"What do you want?" I snap reactively, only glancing over my shoulder to see who's there. I see that it's the boy from District Seven, his name being Dalton. He stands there, just staring at me.
Dalton shrugs, his eyebrows crinkling. "Oh, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to interrupt."
"Next time, don't."
From the corner of my eye, I see Dalton walk away in a defeated sort of way. He sluggishly walks back to the axe station, joining up with his District partner. I roll my eyes, and as I watch him walk away, I know I messed up.
Maybe this is what they mean.
That I'm snappy. That I'm stand-offish. That I can't make friends or allies.
That I'm a self-destructive person.
It's just that I can't trust anyone. It's different when I go up to someone and start a conversation – usually with an ulterior motive in my mind – but when someone comes up to me, I can't trust anyone. I can't let my guard down like that, letting someone take advantage of me opening up to them or beginning to trust them.
That's when they'll manipulate you. And I am not one to be manipulated.
That's what I've learned in life.
Picking up a few pieces of the leaves, I crumple them some more, watching them fall back to the table. I push them to the side, dumping more of the leaves out of the canister. I sit there, picking them up with my fingers, crushing them. Such delicate leaves, being so easily torn apart and throw away.
That's exactly what I can't be.
Delicate. Docile. Vulnerable. Gullible.
That will get me killed in place like this. In the Capitol where the people are abhorrent, all being concealed behind some façade. It's almost even worse than District Nine – where the people just blatantly disliked me because I built walls around me. Because I didn't let people in, because I didn't trust anyone.
Whose fault is that, anyway? It's theirs, not mine.
The Capitol is even worse, with them all not even being deemed human beings by me. They're animals, like disgusting tramps that enjoy the death of twenty-three children every year. The Hunger Games are even worse; killing is horrible. It's all a death sentence, an inevitable death sentence that I can't escape.
It's all too much to deal with. Being in the Hunger Games, having to kill… I could never. The blood on my hands, watching someone slowly fade away – I could never. Yet, I know it has to be done.
I accept that, though.
I want to survive.
And, unfortunately, that means I'll have to kill. That means I'll have to get my hands dirty, but not like I am right now with these leaves. I have to get blood on my hands, whether I like it or not. Maybe that's why no one can trust me?
Because I am willing to kill.
I am willing to betray someone else. I am willing to stab them in the back, just like people have been doing all of these years. That's just the type of person I am now, anyway, and I can't do anything about it.
And if I can't find someone to accept that, then maybe I'm better off with no friends or allies. I made it this far with no one, so what will be different? Seeing everyone in this Training Center talk about their allies and be near them is sickening.
It's truly sickening.
Everyone here is untrustworthy. No one actually likes each other here. They're only obstacles, people standing in the way of victory. I'm prepared to take this challenge, though. I'm not afraid of these obstacles. I'm not afraid to do what I have to do in order to win.
I'll make sure to win.
It's my only possible option now.
I've come too far in life just to die.
I've been through too much.
Salya Ionatti
District Seven Female, 17 Years Old
"Throw it, Dalton. Let's see what you got."
"What does it matter to you?" He asks, a smug grin on his face. "Don't want to make you feel bad about yourself."
Rolling my eyes, I wave my hand in front of me, letting him continue. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stop babbling."
As he raises his arm to throw the axe, I watch his every movement, taking down mental on his form and strategy. Even if it's only Day Two, I picked up a few things from watching the Careers and the Trainers. The girl from District Two, Caelia, can throw an axe, while the boy from District One isn't the best. The male from District Six can't, while Dalton can, but he can work on it.
I can use these observations later on.
The axe lands on the dummy at least, but it's off from the center a little bit. He still shrugs, though, and grabs another one. I lean back against the wall, completely expressionless to what's going on around me. I just watch Dalton, as well as a few other tributes around the Center.
Another axe, another throw, another hit on the dummy.
He isn't that bad, actually.
"I'm good, I know."
Nodding my head, he steps to the side, letting me step up to the space next. I grip an axe in my hand, the black material around the handle of it fitting comfortably with my grasp. Not looking at him at all, I focus myself, thinking back at what my brother went through. Kav could have been standing right here, using an axe just like I am.
This was all before he died, though. Before the male from Two slaughtered those two years ago.
Shaking my head, I digress from these thoughts, not wanting to think about that right now. I'm here for him, determined to win these Games in his honor.
With the axe in my hand, I let it fly, watching it slam right into the dummy's head. It recoils back a little, and I hear Dalton chuckle, but I grab another one without looking at him. I don't need any distractions right now. As I let this axe fly again, it lands in chest of the same dummy now.
Over and over, I throw another axe, only getting tired after about the sixth one.
When Dalton's hand wraps around my arm, I snap around, not realizing how many I had thrown at it. I shake my head, being completely distracted by the thoughts of Kav again, the image of him with that axe lodged into his head tearing at my soul.
"Take a break," he says quietly, and I listen to him. I let him go back up, leaning back up against the wall.
Looking around the Training Center again, I try to focus in on a group of people, and that's when I see a group of the younger boys and girl here. It's the male from District Ten, the male from District Twelve, and the girl from District Eleven all standing around one another. They're talking, smiles on all of their faces.
An alliance, perhaps?
Seeing them makes me question whether or not I really want to ally with Dalton. Both of our mentors, Blight and Adalia, brought up the idea. I didn't entertain it, but as I think about it more, maybe it'll help me out in the end. Kav went through his Games two years without an ally, which makes me think that maybe he would have survived if he had one.
I'm sure Dalton will want to ally, so that's no problem.
"I'll keep it short," I say out-loud, catching his attention. "Allies or not?"
Dalton grins, nodding his head. "Allies."
Dalton goes back to tossing the axe around, as I go back to watching a few of the tributes. I spot the girl from District One walking around alone, which surprises me; is she a Career or not? As I see the rest of the Careers in a circle, I see someone else – the girl from District Six. Maybe they kicked out the girl from One and replaced her?
Or maybe she didn't want to join at all? I respect that. The Careers are all bullshit. They're monsters and savages. I would want to stay away from them, too; they're all untrustworthy and would backstab you just like that.
In front of me, the girl from District Twelve passes by, looking me up and down. She walks passed me slowly, her arms tight to her side and her shoulders barely swaying. She makes a face, and as I stare back, I refrain from saying something to her. I just stare back, not wanting to deal with anyone right now.
Dalton is enough, but I don't need some girl from District Twelve wanting to start anything.
"What was that all about?" Dalton asks, glancing at the Twelve girl as she walks away.
"Maybe she thought you were cute," I joke, only fueling to his ego. "Or maybe she thought I was cute."
"Doubt that."
Dalton places his axe down, and as he comes near me, he leans on the wall too. We both just stand there, each one of us having a leg kicked up to balance us. As a tribute passes in front of us, we watch them, our heads trailing down then back up.
Observations are key. These might be first impressions, and although they are usually entirely wrong, I might learn something from this. I learned quite a lot from just watching Dalton and a few others, so it can't hurt to see what the rest are like.
By watching them, you can see their strengths and flaws. You can see what they excel at, what they have trouble at. What their preferred weapons are and what stations they gravitate towards. This is the time to learn your place among the tributes, even if most are training with weapons.
I know what I can do with an axe.
I can kill with one.
And if I have to do so in the Games, nothing will stop me.
I'll be doing it for Kav.
I'll be winning for him.
Author's Note:
There's Training Day Two!
Now, for questions:
What do you think about these tributes?
Who stood out? Who do you want to see more of?
General comments on POVs and whatever else you want are always good as well.
