A/N: I'm gonna try a new little A/N setup maybe. I like the way it looks in other stories.

Well, it's already been sixteen days since I updated, huh? I could've sworn it was, maybe, ten... Oh, well. I'm going to do train rides in three parts so I don't leave you all waiting for a few months...

So, here we go!

D12- 15/16- (Astrid Levine)

Okay, I'm terrified. Already.

My district partners are insane. Utterly. It's completely scary how messed up they are, what with their glares and their…I don't even know, but the way they both smirked—and not just in that way that people do so they don't seemed scared; it was actually menacing, as menacing as the escort's fake claws, and more so—when they walked up to the stage sent me off the edge quickly. Now that I've spent hours with them, I can hardly look at them, for fear their gazes will turn me to stone.

And it doesn't help that our only mentor is insane too, speaking only in four-worded sentences. I don't know how she does it; it seems like it would be very hard to keep up that pattern for so long. But she's done it for as long as I can remember, and it's annoying. I cannot stand it, honestly, and she keeps repeating this same phrase throughout her tedious, useless, mindless speeches: "Stay and stay alive." What the hell does that mean?

"Hey, little girl's daydreaming," the girl says—Carlyn Hansen—as she mocks Bella Diaz, the mentor.

Bella doesn't notice.

Krumr looks at me and nods. His gaze chills me and I look away, blushing, as his eyes bore into my skull as if trying to either see what I'm thinking or murder my brain. I suspect he's picturing the second, disturbing option with a large longing. To kill me. What fun.

"Don't mock Astrid Levine," Bella tells them sternly, shaking her head. "Mocking peers isn't good. It shouldn't be encouraged. Nor be it rewarding. Though you like it. The both of you. It is not kind."

"Is it not kind? I had never noticed. Rather a pity, eh? I would say so." Carlyn smiles almost sweetly at Bella, but it's patronizing, obviously. I hope Bella doesn't notice it, because I don't want to see her angry. Insane people tend to be very frightening when angry, or so I've seen before. These two, Carlyn and Krumr, are insane and are frightening just because that's the way they are. I'm going to try to avoid them in the arena if I can.

"Don't mock me either," Bella snaps, standing up from her chair and wandering out of the room. Trell Ule, the escort, stares in what may be awe at the two, before walking off towards Bella.

Oh, sure, I think crossly. Leave me with the psychopaths.

I cringe as both of them turn to me, as if they heard my thoughts, but they are merely frowning, sizing me up. At least, that's what I'm assuming. I give a short, pathetic wave, and mentally scold myself. Waving? Ugh.

"Hello, Astrid Levine," the boy, Krumr, says. He's tall and muscular. He's built of muscles. He could crush me like a bug, and he's from District Twelve! That wouldn't surprise me, if it didn't look like he came from town, but he does. He doesn't look Seam-like at all. I somewhat do, with my long raven hair and dark eyes, but I have pale skin, unlike the usual olive skin tones littered around the Seam. I don't stick out much, I suppose, in appearance.

I shrink down a hundred times. Hopefully I only do this mentally, but it feels like I've done it physically too. "Hello," I reply in a small voice, swallowing. He looks and acts like a Career, so I may as well view him as such.

"You're quiet," he says chillingly, with a scratchy, low voice. "Why are you so quiet?"

"You're a tribute," I tell him calmly, trying to grow back up and assume maturity rather than feeling like a small child faced with a large bear and no one to protect me from it. "You should know."

"You must miss your family," he taunts.

"I don't know. I just left them." I pause, and blurt out, "Do you?"

"I don't have a family."

I bite my lip. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Krumr rolls his eyes and turns away, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, but it's a large sound of relief, and I blush as soon as I hear how loud it is out of my mouth.

"You're not fun to mess with," he growls, snatching up water an Avox is offering him and shooing the noiseless servant away. I watch her go, and wonder if Capitolites find Avoxes waiting soundlessly on them normal. They most likely do.

Mess with?

Oh, great. Another image to keep me up at night. That guy—that despicable, reaped guy—messing with his prey in his arena.

Carlyn is just watching me, her blonde town-girl hair neatly-combed and kempt, her long bangs swept to the side. Her clothing is not particularly gorgeous, especially for a town person going to the reaping. All the same, her cold, hard glare that's not just callous or scared and resentful towards opponents is disturbing. It's not normal. It's not a District Twelve person's stare. In all honesty, it's just creepy. The whole train is creepy. Why must this whole train be creepy?

Well, I guess I was just put in the madhouse.

D1- 17- (Adelina Summerfield)

"You idiot!"

My sister cringes at the insult as soon as we're back in my car so we can talk about the fact that she didn't let anyone volunteer for her sorry little ass. She hangs her head and goes over to sit down on the bed, placing her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand. We sit in silence for at least five minutes, collecting what to say, cooling down, and not wanting to get into an argument. I look over at her sadly after the five minutes are up.

"Addie, I wasn't…thinking!" Daphne explains, shaking her head at the poor excuse to send us both into the arena together, as opponents, where only one can win, and one of us will win, but the other will lose their sister, their best friend. "And you seemed to be happy with the idea just as I…seemed to be…"

I'm terrified of both options.

"You need to think more," I snap, though my will to continue being so harsh on her is failing. She was blinded by the Games. She made her decision, and then it was too far to go back. "And I had to. What am I going to do, deny the audience of an exciting little thing and keep them from thinking, 'Oh, look, they seem like the planned this; I think I'll sponsor them'?"

"At least we'll have each other's backs," Daphne says weakly, smiling, though her eyes are dangerously red. I wipe at mine just in case and shrug. "Come on, that'll be cool! The two Summerfields, watching out for each other, slitting the throat of whoever tries to screw with the other."

I sigh. "I suppose. We'll make it quite the Games, won't we?"

"And the sponsors will be lining up for us in general, let alone to sponsor the tragedy that was the sisters who so unfortunately ended up in the Games."

"They never play that angle when siblings come in," I point out, cocking my head.

Daphne smirks. "They're usually not hot twins from Career districts."

I laugh, nodding. Daphne stands up and hugs me. I hesitate before hugging my sister back, and we hug for a long time, because now we're not each other's friends. We're only sisters. Sisters and allies. No, more than allies—partners in the Games. We'll stick close to the other to the very end, and then sob at the other's grave. Well, she might sob. I'll have to hold it in somehow if she dies first, because I'm the stronger one. I'll sob for days when I'm in peace.

"That's right, they're not," I say, nodding now. "But we are, so I suppose this should be a lot of fun…"

"It'll be fun anyway. It's the Games."

"This only adds to it!"

Azalea knocks on the door to my room, calling in quietly, "Girls? It's dinnertime. Your mentors want to talk, also."

I sigh, exiting my sister's arms and pulling on a scowl, just for Azalea, to make her think she interrupted something so utterly vital it's nearly inexcusable, for I think messing with Capitolites when it comes to manners will be fun. I won't do it with sponsors or anyone important, but for someone as airheaded and useless as an escort… Well, honestly, how can I refuse?

I slide over to the door and open it, peeking my head out to Azalea. "Give us a moment, please. We want to change out of our reaping clothes."

"Oh, yes, of course." Azalea nods. "Finish your conversation—I understand. Just know that the mentors are waiting."

My scowl turns into a sliver of a grin, a hint at a smile, for I truly don't mind this escort, Azalea Darkhart. Obviously she snooped in on our conversation, but I'd have done the same thing, and she confronted my lying to her cleverly. I suppose I like her because she reminds me of myself, but I don't want her or anyone to know this, so I push back the ghost of a smile and roll my eyes.

"Whatever you say. Just give us a moment, will you?"

When she leaves, Daphne looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Harsh much? I mean, Azalea is almost okay…"

"When have you ever known me to act like I actually like someone? Yes, Azalea is pretty cool," I admit. "But I don't want her to know that. It's a superiority thing."

"Oh, so I'm not superior to people, and you are?" Daphne asks, cocking her head, and despite her words, I know by her tone and expression that she didn't mean it as harsh as it came out; she's simply wondering what I could possibly mean, because I always rank us as equals, though since her emotions oftentimes envelop her, I'd say I was just slightly superior.

"No, it's not that. It's just that, though you can show your…manipulative and such side, you don't always like I do, you know." I shrug. "You know this."

"I'm always deceptive. That's manipulative, and therefore superior."

"Yes, but deception is silent. You don't show deception," I explain, going over to my dresser and getting out clothes to put on. "I show my manipulative side openly most of the time. Blackmail, threats…"

Daphne comes up next to me and takes out clothes as well from the small dresser. The closet, I'm sure, holds much more, but I've already picked out a decent outfit from the dresser, so I slide the drawers shut and we both get dressed. Then we head out to the dining room, where our mentors, Azalea, and Gleam Diode sit.

Every year, it seems, new mentors come. I'm not complaining, though it would be much easier to train to the expectations of a mentor you know will be mentoring and has been for years. This year, the three mentors are two females and a young male—he's the winner of a recent Games, having won at age seventeen, but with such brutality that he qualified to be a mentor early, and is now twenty. I dearly hope I get the male, Carnelian Jeffers. A little flirting here and there is almost a hobby for me.

The other two are Amethyst Littleton and Morganite Gregory, aged twenty-eight and thirty-two respectively. All three of the mentors are in their best shape and were trained to train. They must qualify to mentor just like they must qualify to volunteer, and most don't even qualify until age twenty-two or twenty-three. Amethyst and Morganite have been the most consistent mentors, except for the past two years, with the changing of the mentors for the most part.

"We've talked it over," Amethyst begins, "and based on your skills and ours, we've chosen our tributes."

Morganite nods, her curly blonde hair falling in a halo around her head, though not literally, but I'm sure that some Capitolite has it like that somewhere. "Yes. Gleam, you'll be mine," she announces, looking over at Gleam Diode, who looks up from the place she was staring at on the floor idly.

"Okay," she says, standing up.

"We're not starting yet," Morganite tells her.

Gleam nods. "I know. I want to stand," she says, and her voice is polite, but there is a hint of snappiness laced in it.

"Daphne," Amethyst says evenly, smiling at my sister. Daphne looks over to me, biting her lip to avoid from laughing as she sees that I've gotten paired with Carnelian. I swallow a smile, smirk, grin, or really any facial expression that might come my way as I look over at him. "You're with me."

Carnelian waves me over. "Adelina, you're obviously with me."

I nod, going over to him. He leads me into the car that holds the television and sits me down for a strategy talk, and for the most part I'm listening, but I'm also thinking, about a lot. And not just how I'll flirt with Carnelian over these next few weeks, though that pops up in my head. I'm thinking about Daphne and what we're going to do, and the Careers and the Games and what lies ahead.

But for now, I guess I can just sit back and relax. After all, what could go wrong as of right now? A very, very cute victor is telling me how to win the Games. Life is good.

D9- 15/16- (Aeris Lockhart)

"Aeris!" my sister shrieked, her voice so shrill and terrified you'd think she was being murdered and calling for her sister to come save her.

But nope, Lara Lockhart was not being murdered, not at all. Quite the contrary, actually, due to the fact that she was very much alive and breathing, probably more than ever before, when I burst into the room where my mother, father, Aunt Midna, and grandparents slept—when they were home. My father was dead, Aunt Midna and my grandpa were out working at their meager-paying jobs like usual, and my grandmas had taken my mother to an apothecary's. Mother had been ill as long as I could remember. But as we were poor, these trips were scarce and had to be long-saved for.

There was one more person who slept in that room, in a baby's cradle.

"It's Amelia, Aeris!" Lara cried as she stared down into the crib. I looked with her, and my eyes widened when I saw the little baby—my little sister—with a too-white face and no rising chest, no movement at all. My first clue should've been that she wasn't sobbing at all the yelling, but I guess I was to terrified to see that possibility; after all, it could've been anyone dead.

It was Amelia. Little tiny Amelia.

I didn't have to; it was obvious she was dead. But I still reached down to feel for her heartbeat, and the small person gave no such thing. She was cold, too—oh-so-cold. How long had she been dead? was the question that flitted through my head as I numbly picked up what was once my living, breathing, functioning sister, who then was no more than a corpse. I rocked the body as I crashed to my knees and sobbed.

I stood up and put Amelia back in the crib as I came to my senses. Lara, past her fear, was finally sobbing too. I looked her in the eyes, and even though my heart had been broken so hard, I ordered sternly and earnestly, "Stay put. Stay put, Lara. I'll round up the others, and you have to make sure they stay in our room, got me?"

Lara nodded numbly as her hyperventilating breaths slowed. "Is she…?"

"Shh, we'll figure this out, okay, Lara?" I asked with a calm voice, though my face was red and blotchy.

She nodded.

"Good. Now go on. Go on to our room."

Lara went to our room and I went around the house gathering the other children: my other little sister Nova and my two little brothers, Phoebus and Luke, and my little cousin, Kyle. I told them to go to Nova, Lara, and my room, and they obliged without a word. Everyone knows not to cross me when I am sad or stern, and at that moment, I was both.

The dream—no, not a dream; nightmare, or memory, or better yet, nightmarish memory—ends there, and I wake up. For a moment, I am so glad to be awake and away from the nightmarish memory that all I can do is relish in the moment before me, until I realize that any moments before me will only involve more death and pain and loss.

Things just suck lately.

I realize I dozed off in my room very early yesterday; I hadn't even had dinner yet. Maybe it was four? I think it was. Now it's four a.m., meaning I had twelve hours of sleep, and though this refreshes me greatly, I still feel so weary, from the nightmarish memory and the reality.

I head out to the main car, knowing that we'll be entering the Capitol soon. No matter how despicable its people are, the city is irrefutably gorgeous.

Out there, I find one of my district partners: Asher Lightwood. He turns around even though I try to keep my tread light. Then we just stare at each other for a few moments, without anything to say, and it's rather awkward because I don't even know what to think. Tan skinned, dark haired, grey eyed, and tall heighted, he's average-looking in that beautiful ways people tend to be, and it looks like he's not totally underfed either.

"Um, hello," I eventually say, to break the silence. Even the Ice Queen hates awkward silences.

That's my nickname, for the little amount of emotion or care that I show unless I'm around my family. I'm sure if you've ever heard of me, you haven't heard of Aeris Lockhart, but instead the Ice Queen, devoid of emotions other than coldness, sarcasm if that's even a feeling, sternness. But if you knew me, you'd know that that's definitely not who I am—not entirely.

"Hey," Asher says quietly, patting the seat next to him on the couch.

I stare at where he requested I sit for the longest of times—at least too long to be natural. Asher cocks his head and shrugs eventually, staring back out at the tunnel that will soon reveal the city. Does he not get that we're supposed to hate each other? To fight to the death? And he wants me to sit with him and watch the Capitol come along? The Capitol is gorgeous! It's practically romanticism to do such a thing with such closeness… Can that even happen?

Definitely not.

"It's coming," he mutters, turning back to me. "C'mon."

I sigh, rolling my eyes and going over to the couch. It's more of a loveseat, really, which I am not comfortable with. He grins at his triumph at succeeding to get me to sit down, to which I roll my eyes again and look at the window, gluing my eyes to the outside where the Capitol will soon stand. I try not to notice how it's impossible to sit like this without our legs touching in the rubbish seat.

The Capitol rolls into our sight, all candied and sweet, gorgeous beyond measure, with its bright yellows and lavenders and sky-blues. I try not to look at the people with the too-bright yellows and too-pink lavenders and too-neon sky-blues, the artificial faces and the scary and worked-on extremities, like tattooed arms or even some canes for legs.

"The city's pretty, at least," my district partner says quietly, staring in awe of the city. It truly is awe-inspiring, the tall buildings and festive signs. The people gather up near the train and try to peek in to see who this is, even though it's four in the morning. A bunch of obviously drunk people pile out of a building nearby and stagger over to the others, trying to get a glimpse.

I look over at him. "Yeah, well, our bodies are going to be brought back to this city. Will it be pretty then? When your dead body is in a casket?"

"Uh…"

"I think not."

This brings on another silence, of course, but I couldn't help it. They took away my father and don't give us enough food for my sister to be alive, and they make my life just hell, and now they're putting me in the Games? I can't take it. I just can't take it anymore. That was an explosion to get it out of my system, but it sure as hell isn't quite all the way out yet.

"Sorry," I mumble. "Got frustrated."

Asher shakes his head, smiling slightly. "It's fine," he assures me. "This is all very frustrating business, being reaped."

"Glad you agree…" I reply, rolling my eyes.

"What I am surprised about, Miss Ice Queen, is the emotion. I've heard that you show no frustration, anger, pain… You're just sarcastic, cynical, and callous," he tells me, looking over. "I heard you're a menace for company and that any moment with you is the dullest or more frustrating thing in the world."

"Well, what's your verdict?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and looking out at the Capitol again.

"I like your opinions," he says simply.

"Well, then. You'll be awful to kill."

"Oh, please. Everyone knows that the Careers or desperate people are the only ones that kill their district partners." He flashes me a wry grin. "So looks like you'll just be privileged with not having to do the task."

"Or vice versa…" I murmur, straightening my jaw angrily. Maybe I do want him to win if I don't. He likes my opinions and it would get my family rewards. But if it's not him, it has to be me. Really. It just…it has to be. Me, Asher, or Fiona Ryder, our other district partner.

"Or vice versa," he agrees. "So, that settled…allies?"

I consider this, and my only response is a shrug and a simple "Why the hell not?"