w w w. riotofcolorhg. blogspot. c o m
w w w. halloffamethg. blogspot. c o m
Fabian Verdite
District One Male, 18 Years Old
"Aoife Cosette."
Aoife stands up quickly at the mention of her name, giving me a quick glance over her shoulder. I smile at her, lowering my head, watching her step through the sliding doors. The doors close behind her, the long hallway we're all in going quiet, except for the sound of someone tapping their foot.
Truthfully, I hope Aoife does well. If she doesn't, then that'll reflect our whole group. If she gets an eight, the group will look weak by having a weak leader, but if she gets an eleven, we'll look overpowered. It has to all balance out, with our whole alliance getting good scores – ranging from at least eight to ten. If they're too low, I would boot them, and if they're too high, I'd boot them too.
The alliance has to be perfect with every aspect, especially training scores.
If I were in charge of this alliance – me, Aoife, Helios, Bishop, and Avis – I wouldn't want to be leader, so I can't really say much about Aoife. She knows what she can do, probably already predicting her own score. I assume she'll get around a ten, simply because she's strong and a leader.
Me? I'll give myself a nine.
Helios I'd give an eight, Bishop I'd give an eight, and Avis I'd give a nine. I don't expect much from any of them, except for Avis, so at least an eight should do to continue being a part of this alliance. If not, well, I'll discuss about booting them.
Now that there's a rivalry going on, we can't be weak. We have to have all-around good allies.
The sliding metal doors open again, Aoife strutting through them proudly. She sashays her shoulder, her hands swinging back and forth as she walks. I open my mouth, attempting to say something, but she walks right past me, heading for the doors on the opposite side.
"Fabian Verdite."
The robotic voice says my name, and I stand up, fixing the sleeves on my training suit. Pryce told me that appearance matters just as much as skills, and appearance is something I'm good at. I'm good at skills, too, but appearance is one of my many talents.
Walking forward, I look back at all of the tributes, seeing Helios and Bishop looking at me. They're sitting next to each other, which I don't find surprising. They've always been closer to each other than the rest of the group.
Turning my head back around, I continue through the metal doors, the sound of them closing behind me calming me. Now, I don't have anyone else looking at me, and from here until the Training Center where the Gamemakers are, I can think.
I keep my head looking forward, my fists open freely and held tightly to my side. Turning the corner, the expansive room of the Training Center welcomes me. On the balcony, there are all of the Gamemakers, including the Head one, and I walk towards them. I stand in front of them, bow a little, and introduce myself.
"Fabian Verdite from District One," I state, putting my hands behind my back. "At your service."
The Head Gamemaker waves her hand, dismissing me in such a blunt way. I grimace at gesture, mentally scolding myself because I know I shouldn't care about that. She could at least show some concern or care for me.
I go right to the swords station, grabbing the first falchion that catches my eye. I hold it in my hand, dropping it to my side for a moment, trying to get used to the weight of it quickly. The swords back in District One were always lighter than these, but still, I can wield one.
Swords are just another one of my many talents.
There are three dummies in front of me, all in pristine and untouched condition. I approach them, keeping myself steady and focused. Raising the sword, I prepare to take them all out in the matter of seconds, and count in my head until I feel ready.
This is it.
All at once, I unleash my strength, swiping the sword back and forth at the dummies. I start with the first, stab it, and then spin around and slice the neck of the second. From afar, I plunge the blade into the third dummy's stomach, and then spin back around, jabbing the handle of the sword into the face of the first dummy.
Continuing to spin around and give damage differently to each dummy, I basically ignore the Gamemaker's as they tell me my time is up. They finally ring a bell, finally catching my attention. They're all looking down at me now, and I place the sword back on the rack, bowing at them once more.
"Thank you for your time," I state, nodding my head.
Walking out of the Training Center, I don't look back, knowing they probably have a camera on me or something. If I look back, it'll make me look weak, and after that performance, I can't look weak.
Weakness is simply that – a weakness.
Something I just can't have anymore.
The doors automatically open in front of me, and I step through, seeing everyone's eyes on me. I smile at them, and go towards the edge of the hallway, gliding my finger along the wall.
"Cassiopeia Bryony."
I hear the sounds of footsteps going towards the doors, then the doors opening and closing behind them. It goes back to being silent, and I sit down at the edge of the hallway, my head rested against the wall. It takes a few minutes of me sitting in silence before Cassiopeia comes back out, her hair even messier than usual and with a tear in her suit.
I don't even want to know.
"Helios Villard."
He stands up, his eyes on lingering on Bishop, and then he departs from her. I look back at Bishop, who's playing with her hands incessantly and all fidgety. Seriously, if I knew the two of them would turn out like this, I wouldn't have allowed Bishop to join the alliance.
She's just a distraction for Helios; and Helios is the important ally.
Bishop was just used to balance out the numbers. She was never meant to be taken seriously.
A few moments later, after I keep watching Bishop, the doors slide back open, Helios emerging from behind them. He sits back down next to Helios, says something to her, and then Bishop stands up because she's next.
"Bishop Grande."
Bishop walks through the doors, playing with strands of her hair. My eyes go to Helios, who's sitting there looking down at the ground. I contemplate whether or not to go sit next to him, but I decide against it, knowing that Bishop will come back soon. For some reason, I don't think Bishop is a fan of me.
I'm not sure why; I really don't do anything.
As Bishop comes back into the room, she gestures for Helios to come with her, and the two of them get up to leave. They begin to walk towards me, since I'm right near the door, and they whisper something to each other as they're about to pass me.
"Hi, guys," I say quietly. "How are the two of you?"
"I'm fine, thank you," Helios replies, holding the door open for Bishop.
"I'm great," Bishop says, smiling. "I'll see you later, Fabian. We just want to get some fresh air."
I bid them good-bye with a nod, and I look back at the doors, apparently already missing Bishop's District partner go in. He's coming out just as Bishop and Helios leaves, and he sits back down, waving at the boy from Nine. The boy from Nine has no response, just sitting there with a emotionless look on his face.
"Coleen Morisette."
I shift in my seat as she stands up, only imagining what would happen if Aoife was still here. She'd probably try to trip her, or something along the lines. Aoife always has to have the last word, especially with Coleen.
At first, Coleen didn't bother me, but I can't think that way anymore. Now, I'm in the alliance that is basically a rival to hers. Even if I did like, she'd still kill me now. Mostly because I'm Aoife's District partner, but probably also because I'm in her alliance.
My thoughts about Coleen don't matter anymore; once we're in that arena, she'll go in for the kill. It won't matter to her, so it can't matter to me.
I reflect on the time that we spent in the Training Center, with Aoife antagonizing Coleen just to get mad at her back. Or when Aoife knocked over the table Coleen was at 'by accidentally,' or the time when Coleen made her hatred for Aoife clear when she declared the Career Pack will split this year.
It's never easy for me, it seems.
"Orson Nautica."
Coleen is already out of her Private Session, and she passes her District partner, who is already near the doors. They don't exchange any looks or any comments, and Orson steps through, the doors closing behind him.
The dynamics between the allies of Coleen's Pack are completely different than Aoife's.
But, that doesn't answer the questions. Who's Pack will make the first kill? Who's Pack will be victorious?
Or the most important one.
Will I die as just part of this alliance to outshine the other?
Will my death mean something?
Fausten Fraser
District Six Male, 18 Years Old
"Alecto Marcial."
Posturing myself, I straighten my back and sit up. I fold my hands over my lap, and once Alecto passes, I smirk and nod my head. Father said that whenever you want to greet someone, you have to play the part. Alecto passes me, glancing at me once, and then I look down the hallway.
Alecto's an interesting one. I don't know her personally, nor do I ever intend to, but I feel that I should respect her as a person because she's Devan's District partner. Her and Devan rarely talk, and from what I hear, she's quiet one. Devan doesn't speak much either, but from what I can see, she's more modest and distant.
Devan's not much better in this sense, but at least he has me as an ally.
And that's something he won't regret.
After a few more minutes pass of me staring forward, shooting a glance at any noise I hear, the doors open back up. Alecto walks through them, pausing at her seat next to Devan and Rionach for a moment, and shakes her head. She continues to walk to the door at the end of the hallway, and I see Devan staring at her.
"Don't get distracted," I advise, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Good luck in there, Devan."
"Devan Halloway."
Devan stands up, my hand sliding off of his shoulder. I place it back on my lap, beginning to play with my fingers as I watch him step through the doors. They close behind him, and I smirk, but I don't know why.
Having him as an ally just intrigues me.
That's why I'm smirking.
Father always told me that if someone is closed-off and quiet, they are hiding something. That there is always some ulterior motive that is being plotted out. I do intend on figuring out more about Devan, and I'll go to any measure to learn more about him. He's interesting, but not in the same was Alecto.
If I wanted Alecto as an ally, I would have allied with her.
Devan just has something else that I can't quite put my finger on yet.
"Rionach Hartley."
Without me realizing it, Devan is already out of his Private Session, and next up is Rionach. Devan comes over towards me, a few droplets of sweat forming on the top of his forehead, and he sits back down, leaning his head on his hands.
"Welcome back," I say, nodding. "How'd it go?"
I wait a few seconds, and once I realize that Devan doesn't plan on responding, I go back to my thoughts. Father always told me to attempt to start a conversation, but if someone really doesn't show any interest, you aren't supposed to force yourself on them. That only leads to hostilities and indifference.
And I want to keep Devan as an ally for as long as I can.
Standing up, I know that my name will be called soon, and I adjust the cuffs on my training suit. I make sure that it looks presentable, especially for the Gamemakers, but also for the other tributes. Father always told me to set an example for everyone else; to look your best and act your best.
"Fausten Fraser."
Passing Rionach on the way, I smile, expecting nothing from her in return. I've learned her ways already; quiet, impersonal, and doesn't show any interest in me. But, as Father always said, you should be nice to the quiet ones. They might be planning something too, and you don't want to be on their hit-list.
Not that Rionach could ever kill me, but she might have something planned.
Stepping through the doors, I wait for them to close behind before walking forward. Once they close, I take my first step, exhaling calmly. I tilt my head upwards, keep my arms to my side, and walk with good posture. Turning the corner, the Gamemakers come into view, and once I see them, I put a smile on my face.
It's always about the appearance; especially with business deals, and in a way, this is a business deal.
"I am Fausten Fraser," I state, my voice sounding serious. "I am ready to start my Private Session."
The Head Gamemaker raises an eyebrow, waving her hand at me. I look over all of the Gamemakers, and once I see all of their eyes perched on me, I feel a sense of pride. A sense of pride that might help me that good score that would impress Father.
Going right for the station where the daggers are, I continue to walk with proper posture and a prideful stance. I can't let my appearance slip up now, especially when they're all looking. I grab the first dagger at the station, and after I inspect it, I notice that there are finger prints on it.
Well, that won't do.
Grabbing another dagger, I inspect it again, trying to see if there are any finger prints. Luckily, there are none, and as I turn around, I see the dummies all lined up behind me.
Gripping the dagger in my hand, I roll my neck, cracking it. Giving the Gamemakers one last glance, I smile at them, and then go right into the action. I stab the first dummy in the shoulder, pry it out, and then smash the handle of it into its head. I step back, the dagger still positioned in front of me, and then attack the second one. With this one, I just plunge the dagger into its stomach, ripping it out forcefully. For the third dummy, I just stab the dummy in the head, leaving the dagger in it.
I step back, bow again, and then nod my head.
Walking back towards the exit, I don't turn around, knowing that would make me look hesitant and regretful. With the same stance and posture, I exit the Training Center, and once I hit the hallway, I loosen up a little bit.
I really don't know what to think at this point.
Father never taught me anything about weapons.
The doors open in front of me, and I walk past the tributes, heading right for the same spot I was sitting at before. Devan's still there, and I sit next to him, both of us sitting in silence.
"Alise Cambrie."
The small girl from Seven stands up, prancing towards the doors quickly. She turns around, waves at the girl from Eight who does wave back, and goes through the doors.
It's tribute like her that make me feel… They make me feel good.
I'm used to those kind of people – childish, naïve, and frankly, stupid. Father always told me that I was better than those types of people, but how could I blame him?
It's clear that I am.
I am better than most.
"Hollis Oleander."
The boy from Seven passes the girl, looking down at her as they pass each other. He walks through the doors, and I smile, knowing that the boy is a Career. Not a true Career at heart; he's just one of those desperate recruits.
I know all about the Careers this year. I didn't waste any time during Training.
It's the District One girl versus the District Four girl; Aoife and Coleen, respectively. Both strong-headed females who desire power, followers, and all they want is a sense of recognition. I admire them, in a way, but at the same time, I pity them.
They'll lead to their own downfall.
"Poplin Silvers."
The small girl has a small interaction with Alise, exchanging a smile and some words. I smile at the sight of the two of them, knowing that they are just two girls who will perish inevitably. They're just two girls that the Capitol thrives off of.
Small, naïve, and fodder for the Games.
Those are exactly the types of people the Capitol wants to see.
After watching Alise playing with her fingers and hair for a few more minutes, my eyes wander at the other tributes, only seeing a few of them left. Most of the Careers are all gone, only leaving whatever middle-District tributes wanted to stay and all of the lower-District tributes.
"Blake Valenzuela."
At the sound of his name, I smile, turning my head to look at him. He passes me, looks down at me, and grimaces. As he passes Poplin and Alise, he whispers something to them, and then laughs at himself.
He's almost as bad as the Careers.
Just as arrogant, deluded, and self-destructive. He'll be his own downfall too.
But, I won't. I'm better than that.
Father taught me how to regulate myself and how to control myself.
With Father's advice, I can do anything.
Father can do no wrong.
Astrid Pallon
District Ten Female, 15 Years Old
"Augusta Daveigh."
Peering down the hallway, I see the District Nine girl, Augusta, stand up, immediately going right for the doors. As she passes where the tributes from Two and Four were sitting, she smiles, and continues to walk. I almost forgot that this year, the Careers resorted to recruiting outer-District tribute; Augusta being one of them.
Although she's a Career, I don't hold that against her. I don't think she's evil, wicked, or bloodthirsty, like most people would for wanting to join the Careers. She was probably being impulsive, and under the certain circumstances, just accepted because she didn't want to become a target for them.
Besides, being a Career would have perks; supplies, allies, and sponsors.
I could never do it, though.
That'd be too much to handle.
The doors slide back open, and Augusta emerges them, head right towards the door at the end. She walks past everyone else, and as she passes me, she notices me looking at her. She smirks, winking with her right eye.
"Joseph Echemik."
Gulping, I begin to prepare myself to go into my own Private Session. I watch the boy walk through the doors, his hands held tight to his side. I wonder what he'll do in there, since from the looks of it, I'm not too sure what he can even do.
Everyone's not what they seem, though. So, I can't judge.
Concentrating on myself, I rattle a bunch of ideas off to myself, trying to come up with an idea that would be best for me. I could either play around with a knife, shoot a slingshot, or do some running courses; there's just so many things to do, with only a limited time. I have to plan it out carefully, and not do whatever comes to mind first.
It's only a training score after all, but still, I want to do well. They might not be the most important thing, but to me, they'd give that extra boost I need. Plus, you can get sponsors from them, and that's something I could use in the Games.
Granted I survive that long to get sponsors, that is.
How hard could they be, anyway?
Wolfram got a five and Asher got a five, and they both still won.
"Astrid Pallon."
Standing up, I pause for a moment, letting Joseph sit back down. I walk past him, past everyone else, and then go through the doors. After the doors close, I begin to recollect myself, breathing slowly and calmly. I can't get nervous now; now is not the time.
I have to keep a level-headed mind right now, and if I don't, there goes my chance at getting any good score.
I never ask for much, so why can't I just have this one thing? A good score?
Turning the corner, I enter the Training Center, the expansive size taking me by surprise. It's much larger than the Training Center we were all in, and there's much more variety of weapons, dummies, and stations. I walk forward, bowing a little as I approach them, and then introduce myself.
"Astrid," I say, my voice a little shaky. "Astrid Pallon."
They wave at me, gesturing for me to begin. I know that the time is limited, so I can't waste any more time. From the corner of my eye, I see the knives station, with a rack of daggers at it. At Training, I spent most of my time working with a dagger, so that's what I'm going to do.
It's worth a shot.
As I approach the station, I grab the first dagger I see, not really knowing the difference between any of them. The dagger is light and I can grip it easy, so this is the one I'll use. Turning around to the dummies, I see that they're all spread out a little, and I figure I can use that to my advantage too.
Looking back at the Gamemakers one more time, I gulp, calming myself down.
I begin to slash at the dummies softly, only making little marks in them, and as I see my attempts aren't working, I put a little more force. I tear apart the first dummy, and jump to the side to the second one, doing the same thing again. I slash at it gently first, gradually adding more force and push into it. As I finish up with the second one, I move to the third one, my body aching from all this sudden movement and use of energy.
I pant, sluggishly slicing at the third dummy. I still manage to make some cuts, but I probably already messed up too much. I just didn't notice how much energy I'd use by doing any of this, but now I do. Shrugging, I continue to pant, putting the knife down back on the rack.
Walking out of the Training Center, I don't look back, not really wanting to see their faces. I know I didn't do too well, but at least I did something. I can somewhat use a dagger, but whether or I'd actually be able to kill with it is questionable. Self-defense is one thing, but the idea of using it to kill someone is another.
That's just a question for a later time.
My foot-steps become heavy as I tread down the hallway, just wanting to leave this place altogether. As the doors slide open in front of me, I don't wait for them to open all the way, and slip through them. I see the door at the end of the hallway, but I stop myself, looking back at my seat.
I might as well just sit here; I have nothing else to do.
"Jaggary Fowl."
As I sit down next to him, he stands up, going off to his Private Session. I look after him, a smile on my face ready for him to turn around, but nothing happens, and I just sit back down. Jaggary is… I don't know. I always figure that most District pair has some secret relationship, where they care for each other and are friends beneath it all.
Apparently, I was wrong. Jaggary barely talks to me, and whenever I try to, he mumbles something and leaves. Personally, I don't have much of an opinion on him, but I wish I did. I wish I knew more about him, I really do.
Maybe something will change soon. I don't want to be completely negative on this whole situation.
Leaning my head back against the wall behind me, I close my eyes, still listening to the names that are being called up.
"Averil Disoto."
My mind drifts back to the first days of the Capitol, where we all were being prepped by the stylists and got ready for the Chariot Rides. That was probably one of my favorite moments here; the outfits were wonderful to wear, and I actually got see some of the Capitol. I've only ever heard stories about it, but now, I've actually witnessed it.
I just wish I can go back home and tell people all of this.
I won't push my luck, though. Anything can happen, whether I like it or not.
"Mauer Allister."
I remember the first time I stepped into my District floor. It was all pristine, with no cracks, dirt anywhere, or any bugs. It was all beautiful, with the colors white and silver everywhere. It was like a dream, none of it looking real. It was all too nice to be real, and once I walked around, it was even more of a shock to me.
My bedroom was my favorite thing. It was huge, with a bed the size of my bedroom back in District Ten, and my favorite part was this wall-device. You could pick any environment scene you wanted, and it would pop up in front of you, looking completely real. I always played with a farm-type scene, where there was a barn and rows of crops.
It almost felt like home.
"Fawn Brett."
The food is another great thing, too. It tastes like nothing I've ever seen or heard of before. Back in District Ten, we just ate whatever we could manage to find or make without many ingredients. District Ten's food was simple and even though it was bad, I got used to it. But, the food in the Capitol was amazing; the smells, the sights, the tastes. They really do treat us well here, even though it doesn't feel right.
They're only prepping us to fight for our lives in the arena.
They don't actually care about us.
"Avis Lowery."
The Capitol never cared for District Ten, either. So, it's not different. We do what they want, and in return, they treat us like garbage. At least, in the Capitol as a tribute, you get something out of it. They give us food, a nice place to stay, and basically anything else they want.
Only if the Capitol treated the Districts like that.
Maybe people would be happy.
Author's Note:
Any predictions on Training Scores? Who will score high, who will score low?
Or any general comments; I like to read it all.
I'm running out of things to say in Author's Note, mostly because I won't have much to say until the Games. I'm enjoying writing this story so far, especially because of the diverse bunch of tributes I've received.
Personal question:
If you were in the Hunger Games, what training score do you think you'd receive?