July 12th, 5 Days From The 53rd Annual Hunger Games
8:30 AM, Training Centre, Floor 11
Lovino wasn't sure why the hell people insisted on dressing him for something this stupid. He had just woken up in his rather uncomfortable bedroom in the Training Centre, on Floor Eleven, and Antonio had apparently set out clothes for him to wear in training. He rolled his eyes. Apparently, once someone becomes a Capital Play Toy they lose the ability to dress themself. The boy slid on the clothes offered for him anyway with a few grumbles.
Truthfully, he didn't want to go to training anyway. He was shorter than about a third of the girls and most of the boys, more than likely. Seeing the other, stronger tributes would just make it set in that he wasn't returning to District Eleven…. That Isobel wasn't returning to District Eleven.
His shirt was red, with a tomato across the chest outlined in a green shape that created the general contour. Isabel's looked the same, apparently. When he saw her at breakfast, he noticed that was true, barring the red gems that filled up the shape on her clothes. He rolled his eyes. Sure, he loved tomatoes, Isabel sure loved them too. But Bastard and Isabel's stylist—some woman named Chiara (1) —were clearly way more obsessed to the point of insanity. Though considering Lovino had once created a song strictly about tomatoes once when they were in the orchard, he couldn't really judge.
Manon was apparently supposed to be the one who would deliver them to the Training Centre at 10, though for now she seemed more involved in the waffles that she was eating. Lovino did not know the name of the food before. Every so often between bites she would tell stories about Lars, her older brother. Lovino pretended to be interested in the conversation, though he was more invested in the food presented before him. How was it that the Capitol had all of these luxurious foods and the citizens barely worked when the Districts were the complete opposite. Harsh work with no real reward in return. Why? Because it all went to the Capitol? It made him sick.
Lovino took bites of the tomato that was in front of him, wondering what he would be like if he had lived here. Above all reality, not caring about anything but parties and clothes. He was nauseous just thinking about it. Himself as one of these oblivious assholes? Hell, starving to death slowly back home sounded much more preferable.
Not that he wanted to, but it sure beat sitting around advocating the deaths of innocent children for fun, not even because you're sadistic, but because it was expected, a form of entertainment given to the Capitol at the cost of the Districts, like everything else in Panem. Sick bastards. Lovino wanted to kill them all, the ones who were higher up the food chain. Gamemakers, the President, his advisor's, even his children. Everything about the Capitol and the way it worked disgusted him.
July 12th, 5 Days From The 53rd Annual Hunger Games
9:00 AM, Training Centre, Floor 1
Feliciano wasn't sure what to think of the Capitol people. They were really nice and gave him food, but they were still, regardless of whether they were his stylist, his prep team, or his escort, Capitol citizens with the task of preparing him to be butchered. Possibly not even figuratively. He'd had a dream the night before that the boy from Four with the cheery smile and strawberry blond hair had somehow managed to turn him into a cupcake. It wasn't possible in the arena, but he could still die. Would likely die, as one of the youngest tributes.
Feliciano knew that he was a fast runner, and good at hiding. He hid often from the people who ran the Training Centre back home in District One for the Career Tributes. He had been enrolled since he was ten, and he still hadn't gotten any better with most of the weapons. It was probably why no one had volunteered for him. Either he finally toughen up or die trying. Either way, it was one less hopeless pupil that wouldn't make the District proud.
At any rate, at least he was going to training. Maybe he would find an ally to hide behind, someone who wasn't likely to be in the Career Pack. The guy from Seven? Maybe, but he looked too much like his old friend…. The boy from Three looked nice, but he was shorter than Feliciano. That wouldn't help much in the long run. The guy from Eleven, the one with the same surname as him, looked a bit like him too…. Also, shorter. The boy from District 10 had volunteered, he didn't like him. The pretty girl from Eight seemed like a good choice.
And so, he walked into the Training area after eating breakfast with his fellow tribute, a girl named Lucille. She was pretty and sophisticated, but scary. He was a twig compared to her, and it scared him. Everyone was so much bigger it seemed.
July 12th, 5 Days From The 53rd Annual Hunger Games
10:00 AM, Training Centre, Floor 7
Ludwig wasn't sure what would happen when training started. He wasn't from a Career district with lots of training, but he was fit from working with an axe all day, and still young enough that he had no back problems from it like the people who had been doing it for decades. He was pretty sure that District Seven had one of the earliest average retirement age. It was too bad that they didn't get money to live on when they left because of medical issues after the first few months.
The trainer was a man named Allan. He had tanned skin and dark brown hair that stuck out in several directions. The boy from Four, Oliver, was making googly eyes at him. Ludwig just rolled his eyes, deciding that for a Career, he was a complete idiot. His eyes drifted to the other smallish career, the boy from One. He was practically shaking in his books. Well, that was good for Ludwig because the weaker the Career pack was, the stronger that he seemed. That was just the way it was.
They were dismissed to go to the stations to work on their skills and Ludwig went to the swords. The small boy from Three did as well. The pair from Two headed for the knives. The boy from Eleven made his way to the edible plants section. Ludwig watched him. If he was from District Eleven, he probably knew most of them.
The small boy from One, Feliciano, smiled at him a bit warily as he stepped over towards him. Ludwig assumed that despite his frail appearance and seemingly kind demeanour that he probably had some sort of training. He looked well-fed, probably aristocratic. And since he was raised in a Career district he had to have some kind of an ability. Otherwise why would they have thrown him to the wolves to die? Surely someone would volunteer for him.
After a bit, the boy from 11 made his way over to the two, a scowl on his face. He had clearly come here from the edible plants section and did not look happy. He picked up a sword and struck at one of the dummies that they set up for them with anger on his face. Ludwig glanced over at the girl from his district, who was politely chatting with the tributes from 10.
He turned back to Feliciano. The boy gave him an overly-enthusiastic grin considering where they were. He was struck by how similar to two oddly looked. Feliciano was paler and lighter, but he put it down to the difference in location and careers. Otherwise, they looked pretty alike. Same last name too. He shuddered.
He tried to find a difference between the two that was significant enough that the thought would entirely shut itself out of his mind. But the curls… the hairstyle… the colour almost…. Similar faces. With all of that in mind, the only thing that he could come of with that was true was that Feliciano was cute, smiled a lot and beamed at everything as if he wasn't in the games. While Lovino, the boy from Eleven, was clearly angrier, smiled only at his fellow district partner, and was…. Hell, he was handsome.
Ludwig wasn't sure what to make of that.
July 12th, 5 Days From The 53rd Annual Hunger Games
1 PM, Training Centre, Lunch Room
Gilbert was at least modestly pleased with what he had managed to do with a sword today. For someone who had never held one before, he was pretty awesome at it, he decided. The stupid assholes from 2 and 4 seemed to be better at it all. He glanced at the small blonde girl from 4. She was tiny, but he had noticed her skill with knives. She was vicious. He shuddered at the idea of being alone with her, defenseless. He tried to pretend to be arrogant, but even he knew that the Career could kill him in her sleep. And feel nothing.
He wasn't sure about Feliciano. He seemed oddly friendly, talking to several of the other tributes, though he oddly stirred clear of his fellow careers. When the pack got together at lunch time, he noticed that both of the smaller tributes stirred clear of it. Feliciano sat next to Ludwig and Lovino, while the girl sat by herself, glancing at the other tributes with a blank expression.
Gilbert was still in line to get food. He'd sort of lingered on joining because he didn't want to look pathetic, not knowing who to sit by. Normally, he would just sit alone, proclaim loudly that being alone was awesome and everyone else was losers anyway. Here, he wondered if they could tell just how pathetic and awkward he was, how he really had no chance.
He reached out for the spoon for the mashed potatoes that they had sitting out. Honestly, seeing something so familiar to district 5 amongst all of the fancy Capitol dishes made him feel a bit at home. The girl from 8 reached out at the same time, turning to glare at him and then at at a different food source nearby, as if she was fantasizing about killing him with the pan that it rested on, before the games even were to begin.
He smirked at her as he spooned some of the potatoes onto his plate victoriously. She seemed dangerous, but somehow he didn't mind being near her. He wasn't sure why until he realised that she actually was sort of pretty….
Well, fuck. The first person he actually ever finds attractive and she's plotting to kill him with a frying pan. And they're both going into the games. Dammit! Why couldn't he ever get a break!
He was still awesome. He could do this.
