Chariots, Part Two.
Arella Trinett, 18 years, District Seven Female
It's not that I don't like Glenn. I do. But it's the fact that he's so alarmingly likable that worries me.
I have so many walls - spent so much time building them up that it's a wonder I even know how to break through them, when I need to. But Glenn, he's just too nice for his own good. Someone trying to get that close to me is nerve-wracking.
He asked if I wanted to ally. I said no, without thinking. It's true. I don't to ally with him. Not because I think he would drag me down, but because I don't need to get attached and protect him over myself. I won't do that. Not to Deviryn, not to Audrey. Not to Andie.
He's still talking to me. I've been trying to tune it out, for the most part. As evident by the fact that I can still hear him from where he's lounging in our chariot, I'm doing a piss poor job.
"Arella?" He inquires. "Just tell me to screw off if I'm bugging you, hey? I know you didn't want to be allies, but I feel like just ignoring you is wrong."
Just like I'm ignoring him, or at least trying to. How is that wrong? I don't want to all of a sudden to find someone whose worth it and then decide they're more valuable than me. Even though he's only two years younger he acts like he has ten times the innocence. If I don't deserve to die then he definitely doesn't.
"I'm going to look at the other tributes," I inform him. He falls silent. I turn to look at him, pushing off the side of the chariot. "You can come with, if you want? Look out for some allies too?"
He instantly brightens. It does make me feel bad, but I have to keep telling myself that my survival comes before his. My life comes before everyone's here. If I have allies, they need to understand that. I don't want them to be my friends, to try for something that's doomed to fail. That's why I'm worried about Glenn. I'm assuming that's exactly what he's going to do, and he's only going to suffer for it.
I think I've suffered enough.
Glenn hops down and starts walking down the line. Good call. I know the Careers look like a mess, but there's still no way I want to go near them. The Fives look well enough, but call me cruel for saying I don't need an ally with one less body part than the rest. For all I know, she's as capable as anyone here, but if I already feel bad looking at her then what am I going to feel in a week? The Three guy looks strong enough, but I think he's already allied with his partner. Why did everyone start making plans before me, and even more-so, why are so many people so confident with their partner by their side?
By the time I think to keep track of said partner, he's already trying to harass the little kid from Ten into talking to him. That's probably a lost cause. The girl, though, might be a good idea. She's sitting on the edge of her chariot, swinging her legs back and forth. She looks up when I walk over, smiling. I hop up on the edge of the chariot next to her. Screw proper introductions - they're not going to get me anywhere at this rate anyway.
"He always like this?" She asks, still smiling. "Larkin, by the way."
"Arella. And if you mean all the talking, yes."
"I think this is the first time Oxen looks sorta alright talking to someone. Usually he looks like he's going to pass out."
Larkin's right. Glenn is so non-threatening, so friendly, that literally anyone will talk to him. Meanwhile, every time Oxen so much as glances at me, he instantly swallows and looks at the ground. That, or back to Glenn. Maybe that's why I've built the walls that I have. Emotions complicate things.
"I feel bad," Larkin says quietly. I really wish I didn't, but I know what she means. Take one look at Oxen and you know he's done for. Glenn's probably in the same boat. I like to think that I have a much stronger chance than either of him, but I know I'd be stupid to count either of them. Oxen volunteered, for fuck's sake. That doesn't mean he has any secret skills, but it means he's aware of what's going to happen to him. The fear of death does funny things to people.
"I wish I could do something," she continues. "I know I can't. I have to be stronger than that. Doesn't stop me from feeling bad about it."
Larkin's willing to do what has to be done. Maybe this could be more than I thought.
"What do you think about the Careers?" She says suddenly. I blink slowly, turning my head to look at her. She looks thoughtful. Nervous, but like she's got an idea.
The second I look at her, really look at her, I know what that idea is. And I want no part of it.
"I think," I tell her. "That you'll get yourself killed."
Larkin looks surprised, like she didn't expect me to be so blunt about it. I won't lie to her. It's a stupid plan. But if she's willing to go through with it, willing to die for something that's never going to work, then that's one less person in my way.
I thought we could be allies, until this came up. And just like that I slammed the gates back down, locked them so no one could get it. That easy.
I think I'm just getting used to it.
Kole Chambers, 17 years, District Five Female
I think they feel bad for me.
I'm not surprised, to say the least. All I've dealt with for the past few years is people feeling bad. It's just another thing I've gotten used to dealing with. They're trying to help, even though they're not, or trying to tip-toe around the subject, even though they're doing a terrible job. There's almost never an in-between.
I've found the in-between, and it's almost everyone in the Capitol.
They're not shying away from their annoyance. The first member of the team that walked in here was muttering under his breath about how they should've gotten Kian instead of me. Kian had stared at him until he had looked away. Admittedly, it was kind of satisfying, but it hasn't gotten much better since then. My stylist hasn't appeared yet, but I'm not sure I want them to. This isn't helping my confidence any. I thought I'd finally gotten enough, on the way here, to sustain myself, only for them to tear it back down.
Like Kian said, it's not my fault they didn't tailor the costume sooner. They had plenty of time to do it.
Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
The costume could be worse. It's mostly just a black and silver jumpsuit underneath, but 20 minutes ago they started weaving together strand of these twinkly little lights around me and haven't stopped. If they put them any closer to my eyes I think I'm going to have to add blind to the list of things that inevitably make my life harder. I've settled for closing my eyes. It's easier.
The door opens for what feels like the fourth time. Probably someone else checking in on how they're doing. Only this time, every hand on me disappears almost instantly and the incessant, under the breath muttering follows.
I crack open an eye. It's still ridiculously bright in here.
"Hello," I say casually, to the older man standing in front of me. No matter how old he is, probably 60's if not farther than that, his hair is still a lot nicer than mine and he doesn't have a wrinkle in sight. I'm pretty sure I have more than him.
He holds out a hand to me, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, no doubt because of my expression. "Marcel. Nice to meet you."
I take his hand, noting the way he uses his free one to show the three assistants out of the room. They scatter with no complaint, shutting the door behind them way too quick to be anything but eager. I lean my head back against the chair, letting out a breath.
"Thank you," I sigh. Marcel chuckles.
"That bad, eh? Figured. Usually I just come up with the plans and let them do the work. Getting old, you know? But I guessed things we're going worse than usual. Thought you might need saving."
I know I could handle them. I was handling them. Mostly by ignoring them, which I consider myself a professional at, but it's still nice someone put some forethought into this. Marcel picks up a brush from the table and some palette or other.
"And besides," he continues. "Caelen is still the worst make-up artist here. It's a miracle she can leave the house in the morning."
I can't help the snort that escapes me. He taps me lightly on the nose with the end of the brush, a very clear sit still, and continues working.
"You're not all bad," I say, rather obviously.
"Of course not. There's not just good and evil, here. Those three just happen to be conjoined at the hips with matching attitudes. They're the only ones who will stick with me, though. Not many of the crowd here likes old people," he points out. Which, to be fair, is probably true. I don't think I've seen another person close to his age since we've gotten here. So we're in the same boat, kind of. Criticized for things we can't control, for things we didn't have a choice in.
"Well," he comments, stepping back. "At least you look better than District Three."
He must notice my glare, because he quickly back-tracks. "Kidding. Seriously, look."
I push myself out of the chair, stepping in front of the mirror. Really, it could be worse. At least the knee-high boots kind of make me look like a badass. Marcel grabs yet another coil of lights off the desk and for a second I groan internally, until he places it on my head. It's almost like a crown, intertwined with hundreds of little lights. They aren't nearly as blinding as the rest of the outfit.
"You want me to get you there?"
"Nah. Think I got it. Thank you though."
And I mean it. I really do. I've only known him for a few minutes, but he's done wonders. So much for me thinking my stylist wouldn't help the situation. Maybe that means everything will start looking up.
By the time I make it to the chariot, everything's moments away from starting. Kian's too busy over-killing it with his smile to even notice me approach, for a moment, but he quickly reaches down and takes my hand, helping me up next to him.
"Please tell me that smile is for a reason?" I force out, looking around at our surroundings. Almost everyone is staring at us. It's kind of hard not to.
"Might as well find something to smile about. It's not like they're looking at us for bad reasons."
That might be up for debate, but I'll take his word for it.
The massive, ornate doors start creaking open. The roar of the crowd is deafening. Apparently the ultimate goal of today is for me to lose all of my senses at once. Kian's right, though. Right now, smiling's everything. Showing everyone that we're not scared, that we're confident no matter what, that's what matters right now. Not what I feel about the situation.
I know how to fake a smile. I've been doing it for years.
Cerise Telvarri, 18 years, District One Female
This is shitty.
And by this I mean literally everything, just to be clear.
I don't know where Duke went, nor do I really care. I dared him to give Kiero Mearlove the finger a minute ago, just to get him away from me, but I actually think he went and did it. Guess we'll find out soon.
Which leaves me, lounging against the side of my chariot, glaring at everyone who even comes within 10 feet of me. Lynn waved at me, seconds before Elias all but threw her over his shoulder and dragged her away. They're my allies. But clearly even Elias has his doubts.
Fuck them all, honestly. Who do they think they are?
I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I had a plan, if everyone else had just cooperated. I thought I had a pack to lead. The Twos are gone, and they can stay that way, as far away from me as possible, for the rest of their inevitably short lives. Unless Seren wants to die, then that's the course of action she should probably follow. Duke's about as useful as a mop.
Speaking of. Valiant comes walking towards me, dragging Duke along by the arm.
"Did you do it?" I demand, a little excited. Duke glowers at me.
"No," Valiant answers instead. "And don't encourage him to."
I pout, crossing my arms over my chest. Really, what's he got up his ass that makes him so boring?
Duke continues glaring at me while he gets dragged away, like it's my fault he got caught. As if. I just wanted some entertainment. It's not my fault he's not subtle.
I continue looking around at the crowd of people. It's so thick, in the middle, that I'm surprised anyone's even alive in there. That's why I'm here, on the outside, where I can be assured that no one's going to think of stepping anywhere near me or screaming in my ear. Besides, it makes for good people watching. Maybe I should go play nice with the guy from Nine. He's nice to look at.
"You having fun over here?" A voice asks out of nowhere, almost directly into my ear. Of course. I whip around. Six girl. She's grinning.
"No, for your information," I inform her. "And I have a bubble, thank you very much."
She steps back, hands held up in front of her, but I notice the grin hasn't left her face.
"Alana," she says simply, forgoing any other introduction. "And I noticed you're in a bit of a predicament."
"Cerise," I reply. "And you noticing I'm in a predicament is fascinating. I'm sure everyone else here has too."
It makes me so angry. Everyone here can see how screwed we are without really looking. They already know we're going down in flames. Everything I thought I could do, everything I thought I could beat, and here we are. I'm alone in a place I thought I'd control over and everyone's laughing at me for it.
"Unless you have something interesting to say, can you please leave?"
Alana leans against the chariot, resting her chin in her hand. She looks thoughtful, but she isn't leaving.
"Do you trust the Fours?"
I blink, my eyebrows furrowing. Absolutely not. How is that not obvious by now? To be fair, I really don't trust anyone, but they're too buddy-buddy for my liking, even if I do have to stick with them. It doesn't help that I'm also certain Elias has an insta-crush on Duke, which is gross enough on it's own.
"No," I state flatly. Alana looks satisfied.
"Do you trust me?"
I laugh, but don't say anything. I look at her, standing by my side, and raise an eyebrow.
"Is there a point you're trying to get at?"
"Well, I mean. They're already friends. They'll go after you before each other. Want a friend?"
She's serious, and no matter how much I stare at her, she's not faltering for a second. In fact, I dare to say Alana looks almost confident. More confident than either of my allies have been, when thinking about working with me. Alana approached me. Alana was willing to throw herself on the line to ask me to ally. Which means she's already better than they'll ever been.
"And why?" I dare to ask. "Should I think you can help me?"
"Because I know for a fact I've killed more people than you have."
I can't help my mouth opening a bit, probably the least attractive I've looked tonight, but I quickly snap it shut. She's definitely not kidding with that one. It's true - I haven't killed anyone, of course, but not yet. If she already has ... and she's still not hesitating, then that means something. That's more important than even she knows. There won't be anything in me that falters, when it comes to killing someone. I know that. Everyone back in One knew it too. But Six is different. Hell, Six is worlds away.
I need someone who won't hesitate.
"Ready to be a Career?
Alana smiles huge and eager. She holds out her arm to me, like an invitation. What can I say? She's the first person here I've actually liked, the first person that's worth a damn second of my time. I loop my arm through hers, turning her towards wherever the Fours disappeared off to. Together we take off across the room, through the battlefield, parting people left and right like it's nothing. And it is nothing, all of these people, all of these dramatics. Soon, they won't matter.
They'll find that out soon.
"They're not going to be happy," Alana laughs. I shake my head.
"No. But who cares. Fuck 'em."
There's a part of me now that doesn't care what happens. It's funny, how quickly things can change. A few minutes ago I was on the bottom, surrounded by people with allies and chances and hope. Now, they won't even look at me. Oh, how the tables have turned.
I can't wait to show everyone just how much things have changed.
I didn't mean for things to go to shit this quickly. In other news, the poll results are up. I wanted two goddamn weeks for someone to untie Duke and Meritt for good and it never happened, so I give up. So go check those out, and be aware of the fact that if I ever even considered writing a third SYOT, there are no more Galore siblings to be at the top of the poll. Stop it.
And I apologize, not-so sincerely, for the amount of alliances that have already formed before training, if you're not into that. We're nowhere near done, though, I can promise you that. So many things are going on that I needed to get a lot of them done early and set the stage for the real shitstorm down the road. As always, dedicated reviewers, I love and appreciate you and hope you don't hate me too much down the road.
Until next time.