Train Rides, Part Two.


Astrid Lucretius — 18 years
District Four Female


This train ride is one giant, awkward hellhole.

And that's putting it lightly.

Sheridan and I are friendly enough, talking strategy and all that fun stuff, but we're not foolish enough to actually be friends. We won't get that close. To put it as bluntly as possible, Hariwin is a dick. A gullible one, though. One perfect look in his direction or even the right words and I get a sly grin in response or he leans in a bit closer. He's vicious, possibly brutal, if what Sheridan told me is true. A guard dog. Someone they trained to fight and kill and have room for nothing else. He'll slaughter anything that steps into his path, so I'll stay behind him. Good to know.

I think the best part of all of this is Ross, though. He's nice. Too nice, almost; a bit quiet and defensive when someone shows interest in him, but once you get him talking, it's like you've been friends for years. Every time Hariwin opens his mouth it looks as if Ross would rather throw himself off the train than take the time to come up with a response. I like him, though. He won't stab any of us in the back unless he gets desperate, and he doesn't seem the type. He's probably the most normal, average one on this train. I almost feel bad for him.

It's a big crowd this year, eight of us, but somehow we manage to move around a few couches and chairs until they're situated into something resembling a circle. I lean into Hariwin's side, telling him to shove over a bit, and he looks as if he just got the best reward ever. God, this is too easy. Strong, but apparently an idiot.

Once we move over Ross drops down beside me, offering me an easy smile that I return. See, whenever Hariwin smiles at me I feel like someone dropped a bucket of worms down my shirt. Apparently he doesn't know how not to be some form of creepy or brutal around girls. Sheridan takes a smaller couch next to her own mentor and the other three arrange themselves across the rest.

"Alright, so let's get started," Amalia says, sitting forward. I think she took on Hariwin because she's the oldest and probably has the most patience. Anyone else would knock him out after five minutes. "Weapons, anyone?"

Sheridan and Ross are both spear people. I've seen Sheridan training and Ross told me approximately two and a half minutes after I started talking to him, not that I already didn't know.

"Trident," I say confidently when all of their eyes land on me. "Or anything, really, because I know they're not always there. I'm good with traps too. Nets and all that."

Everyone nods, seeming satisfied with my answer. I wonder if everything's going as smoothly over in One. I severely doubt it.

"Anything," Hariwin says, and leaves it at that.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Anything heavy. My bare hands. Doesn't matter."

The awkward hellhole is slowly resuming. And here I was, thinking we might be making some progress. I throw a glance in Sheridan's direction and she shrugs at me. Guess she wasn't lying about his sketchy late-night training, then.

"Once you're in the Capitol start going to One and Two immediately. Don't want until training," Teo says, meeting all of our eyes. We all nod in understanding. The quicker we can solidify the pack, the better, judging by the numbers. And then there's the question of the rogue volunteer from Six, but I don't think any of us have gotten quite that far yet.

"One's more important, because there's three of them," Costa explains. "But don't put the Two boy out just because he's the only one. He's strong and he's a number, so you'll need him. Especially if the One girl proves to be as useless as she looks."

Amalia throws a disapproving look in her direction, but it's true. There are variables we don't have control over, currently, so we need to take what we can get.

"What about the Six boy?" I ask, looking towards the four of them.

"Like we need him," Hariwin scoffs, borderline laughing, and locks eyes with me. His face falters a bit when he realizes I'm serious.

"See what he does in training. Depending, you guys can do what you see fit," Teo tells us, leaning back against the couch. Amalia launches into another topic, something about splitting up in training, and Ross leans the slightest bit closer to me.

"Think the Six boy is anymore bearable than him?" He whispers under his breath. I swallow down the laugh that builds up in my throat, looking down at my lap to hide my smile. I really do like Ross; he's proving more amusing by the second.

I really do think we can do this, despite all of the little problems I keep seeing. Four got lucky to have the most tributes this year, if I ignore how Hariwin's arm is slung over the back of the couch, just barely brushing my bare shoulders like we're out on some sort of sick date. If he gets too out of control, we can take care of him. Sheridan and Ross have no malice to them, but they'll do what they have to do to keep themselves alive. To win. And so will I, even if it means using someone who could very well be a monster to my advantage.

I glance over at Hariwin out of the corner of my eye. Almost instantly he's looking back, like he could tell I'd resume talking to him any second now. It really is a lot easier than I thought it would be, to get so close to someone that they don't think you have any ulterior motives; that the look in their eyes already says that they'd go to war with you, futile or not.

The smile that comes on my face is reflexive, plastic, and the look in Hariwin's eyes is one of victory. Like he already won.

Shame, really. Because he's my monster now. And they don't let the monsters win.


Eitta Wills — 13 years
District Eight Male


I spent most of my time hunched away in a corner, hoping no one talks to me. I tried to sidestep into my room, but Della insisted that I stay and wait for the food to come. Listen, if I didn't want to talk, is what she said. I like her, which I hope she knows.

At first I don't understand why they're letting Rayon mentor me. I don't pay much attention, if at all, to the three Victor's Eight has, but he's the youngest and very clearly the most fit. I don't understand why they tried to force me on him instead of Kiero, who at least has a chance. I don't. I knew that the second my name was called. I knew that before they even called my name; that if I ever got reaped I was doomed, no matter when the time came around.

But in my time spent in the corner, I begin to realize why they did it. He's not all there. You can see it in his eyes. Like to him the train's just another place that he's forced to stay; where ghosts only he can see roam the hallways. They ripped something out of him when he won and he never got it back. So maybe they were smart to let the crazy one mentor me. Della's kind, and smart, and she can give Kiero a chance. I won't rob him of that.

A few Avoxes trickle in, pushing ahead carts topped to the brim with all assortments of food. I uncurl myself from the corner, stretching my arms in front of me, and shuffle over to the table, dropping myself into the nearest chair and hoping no one will talk to me. I wouldn't know what to say. This situation we're in isn't exactly the best conversation starter and I'm certainly not confident enough in myself to come up with anything else. Besides, I haven't got anything good to say. I've got no sappy family life, I don't even have a token because I was forgotten about. Letting them talk is better.

Della sits next to me carefully, like she's afraid she'll startle me. Kiero sits across from us, staring at the food like he's at a loss for where to start. I watch as Rayon stares vacantly at the table and promptly removes himself from the room, disappearing down the hall. There's a resounding thud as he slams the door to his room shut.

"Forgive me if this sounds cruel, but I almost wish he hadn't won," Della says quietly. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She looks sad. I guess the fact that she'd rather see someone dead because they'd be better off is, in a way.

"Is there anything actually wrong with him?" Kiero asks softly. He's still staring off down the hallway like he's waiting for Rayon to come back.

"Nothing official besides PTSD, but all of us go through that in our own ways. Trauma's a hell of a thing," Della explains.

They let me remain quiet when they move the conversation into something not nearly as morbid. Something about Eight, probably, but I don't even find myself listening, just picking things off various trays, trying to enjoy what I can while I'm still here. They've got some good food, I'll give them that.

Every once in a while, Kiero will glance over at me, like he's waiting for me to say something. He's quiet, but in a way completely different than me. He's confident in himself without it bordering into arrogance, but at the same time I can tell that he'd take the burden off of every reaped kid's shoulders and put it on his own if someone let him. Bear it so they don't have to.

He's not a fighter, that I can tell. He still, however, has a much better chance than me. I think, if I was another person entirely, we'd get along really well. I just hope he isn't taking it to heart that I'm doing my best to go incognito in the hideous floral pattern of this chair while he's sitting five feet away.

"I'm going to go check on him," Della says, wiping a napkin over her mouth and scooting her chair back. "You boys keep eating, I'll be back soon."

Without Della there to make conversation, the two of us lapse into silence, the only noise being the occasional scrape of a fork or knife across one of our plates.

"It's alright if you don't wanna talk. I'm just hoping it's not my fault."

I freeze and look up from my plate, meeting Kiero's eyes. He stares at me for a split second before going back to his own food. Apparently it's evident that if I'm stared at for more than a few seconds I'll sink into the chair entirely. I feel bad, though, because he's a good person, one who's not malicious or going to hurt anybody unless his life is hanging in the balance. He deserves better than me for a District partner.

"It's not," I say quietly, so much so that I'm surprised it came out at all. Kiero glances at me, a mild amount of shock spread across his face. He gives himself another second to just stare before he's looking away again. He's oddly perceptive, for me only speaking to him once. He looks mildly proud of himself, though, for getting those two words out of me. He should be. It's more than I usually say to someone I just met a few hours ago.

There's a lot I want to ask him. About his family, if he has one, about the bracelet on his wrist that has to be his token. If he's got things to go back to. If he thinks he can win, and if he wants to.

There's also a lot I want to tell him, but nothing I think I could.


Quill Grove — 17 years
District Nine Male


I don't quite know how both Elora and Arlo ended up in my room.

I also don't know why they're still here. Last time I pulled up the little clock mechanism it was around 1:30am, and it's been a fair bit since then. I just wanted to sleep, so I don't know how or why I ended up here, minus the getting reaped part. That I remember very clearly.

Somewhere between dinner and us all wandering off Elora followed me in here to ask me a question, sat down, and never got up. Arlo was there minutes later, like a moth to a flame because it's so damn evident that he tries not to get in the way but wants to be around someone who cares, probably because he's never had that. He's sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, now, Elora on a plush armchair, and I've claimed the area around my pillows like some sort of angry bird, willing everyone to please just go away and let me sleep.

Elora's either ignoring my wishes or oblivious to the fact that I want her to leave it all. I'm beginning to suspect the latter. Arlo would leave, if I asked him, but he's not going to while he's still got an active conversation going. I've barely said anything, and the attempts they've made at including me fizzle out the second they realize I'm not much of a talker.

Really, I think they'd leave if I wasn't even less intimidating than I usually am, a blanket drawn around my shoulders and all but drowning in a pile of ultra-plush pillows.

Arlo starts detailing some story or other about him and another kid almost burning down the orphanage when the ladies who ran it weren't there. Orphanage. Huh. Must have missed that part, because I never would have guessed it. Elora laughs at something he says and Arlo starts smiling, all teeth and no sadness. Seriously, how are they doing this?

"How are you guys remotely happy right now?"

I hadn't intended there to be any malice, but it probably came out that way. I'm honestly confused.

"Well, uh," Arlo starts, looking a little lost for words. That's a first.

"I spent too long turning my life around to not be happy. If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. There's no stopping it," Elora says evenly, staring at me from her perch on the chair. That's probably the first remotely serious thing she's said, and not something I expected. For as care-free as she appears to be, she's tough, deep down. Arlo is too, and it's not hard to see why. If he grew up in the orphanage then he grew up faster than most kids did.

"Alright," Arlo interrupts. "Your turn to tell us a fun story, Quill."

I turn a blank-eyed stare on Arlo, pressing my lips together so hard they turn white. I just wants to sleep. Arlo starts to laugh, this time, and Elora quickly follows, like they're laughing at my inability to do anything other than scowl and stare at the wall. I doesn't have any fun stories, though. I didn't know fun things existed in Nine.

"I got bit by a poisonous snake once," I deadpan, finding the point on the wall I had been previously staring at. Both of them fall silent, until something thwacks me hard in the side of the head. Unprepared, I keel over quite comically, landing flat on my side with my legs still drawn up to my chest, listening to the chorus of Arlo's rather loud and undignified snorts echoing around the room. I glare at the offending pillow that knocked me sideways courtesy of Elora's apparently wicked arm strength.

"We said fun, asshole!" Elora chides me, waving another pillow in the air threateningly.

"I don't know, I thought that was pretty fun," I says simply. It wasn't fun, not at all, and I still feel like I owe Marcus some sort of debt for saving my ass that day, but now I'm not going to get to repay it. Elora rolls her eyes at me and lowers the pillow into her lap though, apparently deciding she's bugged me enough. Thank God. I'm still laying in the fetal position that my limbs fell in and honestly couldn't care less about resuming my former position. Really, if they'd shut up, I could probably go to sleep like this.

I'd never admit it, not for a million years, but it's almost nice, having them here. If I was alone like some of the tributes I'd have a lot of well-deserved alone time, but I get that enough at home. Maybe Elora's right. If I'm gonna die I might as well open my mouth and say what I have to say while I'm still here. Not now, though. Now it's too late and I still spent the past week working and I'm taking advantage of the most comfortable bed I've ever laid on in my entire life.

It's not ten minutes later when Arlo pokes a finger into my ribs, harder than he needed to.

"Seriously?" I grumble, refusing to lift my head up from the blanket. I squint at him with one half-open, blurry eye.

"We're leaving, we're gonna let you sleep. We'll find someone else to harass."

"Well thank God for that," I say under my breath, apparently a little louder than I thought, because seconds later a second pillow finds it's home directly on the back of my head. At least that one didn't hurt as much. I wave a vague goodbye gesture at them as I hear their footsteps fade away, the door clicking shut behind them. Their chatter outside my door quickly fades as they make their way away from my room and off to torture some other poor innocent soul. They'd probably spend the night together talking and fall asleep in the same room, I'd bet. Elora just because she won't make him leave and Arlo because he likes the company.

Now that they're gone, sleep is evading me. Of course it is. It's like there's a bright, buzzing light pressing against my eyelids, and it won't go away. Wait.

I lift my head, sending a pillow or two sliding away. They left the light on. The one right next to the door.

Assholes.


Terron Calvert —18 years
District Two Male


I'm alone.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm alone.

The housing at the Academy means you're never alone. There's always someone in your room, or outside in the hallway, or going into training at some godawful hour in the morning with you. Not that I minded, much, because once you make friends there you can usually stick to them and only them, but the silence is strange to me. Eerie, almost. I'm not used to it. I'm used to someone yelling at me to do this again, or do that a different way, or someone yelling when they got hit a bit too hard.

I think, for the first time in my life, I'm a tad lonely. At this point I didn't even know the concept of loneliness existed, but here we are.

Cicely sent me off and told me to go to sleep, because we'd be arriving early in the morning, and in her words, I better not be a mess. It's her first year mentoring and I really don't think she expected me, a kid who left his home and sleeps in the center with a handful of orphans and runaways, to be the one she got, but now that I'm here she doesn't really have a choice. Someone almost beat me to the stage, though. He would have, if he hadn't crossed perfectly in front of Xanthos, who grabbed his arm impossibly hard and stopped him in his tracks, allowing me to slip right past. Xanthos had given me a positively sunny smile and a thumbs-up, nearly laughing at the guy squirming in his grip. If there's anything the night Academy teaches you, it's loyalty to the people you consider your friends.

I don't know how I'm supposed to sleep. I'm finally here. I've finally escaped.

I take to wandering around my room, picking things up and examining them. I think there are more shiny things in here than I've ever seen in my entire life, save for whatever the hell the Escort was wearing today. I peek into the bathroom, flicking the light on as I stick my head inside. Alright, they really don't cheap out on anything here, do they? It's like I can feel my eyebrows touching my hairline when I examine the shower. There are more buttons and dials than I've seen on any shower before, that's for sure. Showers in the academy lasted a rough three and a half minutes, if you were lucky. Any longer and you'd run into the cold water, or get your ass kicked for using up all the good stuff.

Hm, now I'm wondering. Would anyone yell at me for singing at the top of my lungs in there? No one but Cicely, I think, who would probably hear me from the other end of the train and cuff me upside the head for not sleeping. Guess I'm saving that for the Capitol, then. Beside, they'll applaud me for it. I sound like a goddamn angel. It's about time someone appreciated it.

There's not much else to look at, really. I sit down hard on the edge of the bed, looking around the room. That lasted all of two minutes, and I'm still not planning on sleeping anytime soon. The pictures in here are ugly as all hell anyway, and I really don't want to spend any more time than I have to looking at them.

It would be nice to have someone here with me, I think, but not to be friends with. I'm already bored. There's no one to terrorize, no one to show up, no one to intimidate. For all I know I'm already on the outskirts of the pack. There's really nothing I can do about it if the decision's already been made, but hopefully the rest of them are smart enough not to do that. I'll kill them all without blinking.

If they think I'm going to cooperate and be the perfect little ally just because I'm alone, they're more wrong than I thought. I learned a long time ago that taking orders doesn't get you anywhere. Up to this point every decision I've made has been because of myself, not someone else. Being nice and proper and moral doesn't get you anywhere, especially here. It sure as hell didn't get me anywhere when my father was beating the shit out of me and my mother sat upstairs, ignoring it and probably drunk half out of her mind.

That night, the last night I spent at home, it motivates me more than I'd care to think about. I left home at nine and didn't look back, because the Academy took me in and they raised me in all sense of the word. When I come back, maybe I'll finally be able to look my parent's in the eye and forgive them - maybe they'll finally care enough to come looking. It's a nice thing to think about, if a bit delusional.

I need to stop thinking about that, though. They might have started the fire that got me here but I've built and maintained the damn thing for nine years. I've had bones broken and bled and starved just to be here. I might have started out a scared, pathetic kid but I'm not anymore. What I do need to think about is people like Valora, who went to that Academy because she had nothing else and had her opportunity to win pulled out from under her by some arrogant, self-entitled asshole. Looking at her hurts sometimes, even though we're friends, even though she's assisted in my training for the past two years. If I had let someone take this from me, I'd be her right now. Disappointed and bitter and not understanding why the world would dare to take away the only thing I had.

That's why I'm here for myself. Everyone will know that the second they meet me, because they aren't for a damn second going to try and stop me from getting what I want. People have been trying to get in my way for too long.


We are done the pre-Capitol chapters! *shoots confetti cannon*

As always, thanks to everyone that has reviewed so far. I love you all for it. From here on out, the format will be a bit different. There will be two chapters of chariots with three POVs each, three chapters of training with four POVs each, and interview sessions exactly like the chariots. This is mostly because I do believe training's the biggest part, especially because of all the interactions and alliances being formed. It's one of my favourite parts to write, either way. If your character doesn't get their own POV in training they will be mentioned or heavily involved in others, so don't stress about that!

Poll's up on my profile! Try not to vote for just your own; I'm giving you six choices for a reason. I'm looking forward to getting all of these guys in the same room. So again, until next time, and please, pray for everyone's sanity once they do end up in the same room.