Chapter Twelve.


Chariot Rides.


Riena Ledwell, 18 years old;
District One Female.


They were nearing the stables.

Riena tried to stay as close to her mentor, Tallis, as possible. Alston kept offering her waves over Prosper's shoulder, winking when she caught his eye, and laughing quietly when Riena quickly distracted herself with something else.

Although she didn't take it upon herself to immediately dislike someone – quite the opposite really – she'd come to understand that Alston was a guy you really had to get to know before… liking him.

Riena had tried to be patient with him on the train. In the Games, she knew it would start to wear thin.

"Now's as good a time as any to try and get the group together," Tallis advised, the wrinkles on her cheeks curling up alongside her pleasant, trademark smile. "Most year the Pack likes to get to know one another before tomorrow starts."

"That's training, right?" Riena asked.

"Yes, tomorrow training begins, three days of it," Tallis said. "After that, well- I'm sure you both know exactly what's to come. Don't mind me, sometimes I forget who I'm talking to."

Tallis laughed. Prosper grinned, something Riena was more than happy to do. She looked to see what Alston was doing when everything that was currently going on became obliterated by a wave of noise that took over her hearing.

They'd entered the stables. Her eyes first hovered over the horses, two for each Chariot, draped and covered and enrobed in the finest fabrics and jewellery, or wheat and fruit to represent each District. Riena took it all in, absorbing every fine detail with awe in her eyes.

She was here to focus. Here to do what every Career came here to do. But she wasn't going to ignore the more interesting sides of this process in favour of being a complete and utter bore. The sheer magnitude of such a small, insignificant cog in the grand machine made her eyes widen.

The tributes themselves were either muttering to their District partners, their mentors, or standing by themselves, most of them in a trance by the loud noises coming from behind the closed door a few metres in front of One's chariot.

Riena quickly composed herself. When Tallis placed a warm, gentle hand on her shoulder, Riena focused on the way in front rather than everything that was distracting her from her peripheral vision.

Alston had bounded forwards, eagerly hopping up onto the Chariot and stroking the horse's mane, laughing to himself when it whinnied and shook his hand away.

Riena chuckled and stood by the side of the chariot, nodding her head at him when he looked back down. "This is great, Riena." He sounded like a little child. A hypnotized, entertained child. "Dare me to ride one. Go on."

"I'm not going to-" Riena stopped herself from indulging him. She'd already come to realise he enjoyed a challenge.

That's putting it lightly.

She'd taken a sip from an alcoholic beverage and he'd proceeded to chug three entire bottles until he was passed out on the floor.

Anything she did, he seemed to want to do better. At least he did it with a smile. Whatever his intentions, Riena found Alston irritatingly entertaining.

"We should probably leave you two now," Prosper said, stroking the same horse Alston had seconds ago been trying to pet. "Just go with it, alright. Do what you feel is best in the moment. There's no right or wrong way."

"If I punch Alston, I think that might count as a step in the wrong direction." Am I serious, or am I joking? Riena laughed at Prosper's expression and shook her head. "I'm kidding."

This whole situation was eating away at her stomach, her nerves on haywire. It was like the party before the reaping but only a thousand times worse. In a few minutes, she wouldn't just have the attention of the entire Capitol channelled towards her, but every District that inhabited Panem and all its citizens. They'd be staring at her. Watching her. Judging her.

Riena didn't care for what they might think exactly. But all that… attention. It made her light-headed when she accepted Alston's offer of assistance, hoisting her up onto the chariot as she held her dress down so it didn't blow upwards.

Once she was settled, Prosper linked arms with Tallis and the two nodded proudly at their tributes.

"Oh and remember to smile. A tribute who knows how to smile can win a lot of favour with people in important places," Prosper said.

"And lose it with tributes that want to cut your head off," Tallis chuckled, patting Prosper on the shoulder. "You and I both know that a little too well."

Riena wanted to ask more. She respected them. Tallis nearing her fifties and Prosper in his late twenties. Alston was already distracted by the horses again, but Riena… Riena knew that they were aware of how this had to be played. And maybe they were nice people, but they couldn't have been too nice to not see how this had to be. They had won after all.

But she didn't have the right question to form into words before they were walking off, time up, leaving Riena to tap nervously on the bar which she could hold onto for support.

"You wouldn't really punch me, right Riena?"

She looked at Alston, who was half smirking, half narrowing his eyes. She shook her head and smiled as best she could to build faith between the two of them. A bond between District partners was important. This wasn't a game of trust, but this wasn't a place, no matter what, where she would stab someone in the back for an advantage.

She just hoped Alston wouldn't do that either. If she pushed him away, there was no telling what he might do in the future.

"I promise you Alston, I don't plan on punching you."

He smiled. "Good, otherwise I might have to push you over the edge."

"And let me get trampled by the horses?"

"Don't worry, I'd steer them out your way."

Riena wanted to focus on settling her stomach and the headache that was beginning to pound away at her skull, but Alston was staring at her, grinning, so she laughed instead. "How?"

"Didn't I tell you I wanted to ride one?"

"More like you asked me to dare you to risk breaking your neck. But whatever gets you going," Riena said, facing the front. "It'd catch the attention of our allies, that's for sure."

Alston looked behind them, no doubt observing District Two. Riena wasn't quite sure she was ready yet for that. When the time came, she'd be as responsible as she could be, and if there was trouble, she'd put out the fire before it became too intense and threatened to swallow up their alliance's potential.

But right now, even if this was a good time to unite the group together, Riena wanted to focus on herself and herself only. This was where her first impression mattered. Not Alston's. Not anyone else's.

She couldn't impress if she vomited up her dinner. That might ruin everything she had going for her – even if she had trained, the Capitol valued appearances. A vomit stained dress would jeopardize her future.

"Remember what Prosper said," Riena whispered, taking a deep breath. "Smile."

Whether she was saying that to Alston, or to herself, she wasn't entirely sure.

But as long as she did just that, everything would be okay.


Travis Sauver, 16 years old;
District Seven Male.


"I'm sorry Petra, I shouldn't have-"

"-Don't worry, Travis. It's okay."

It's not okay. I feel… I'm not sure what I feel, but I don't like it. "I understand it's a bit early. And I did just throw that at you without being able to even talk it through. Maybe if you gave it some time, you might reconsider."

The pair from Seven were stood, hip to hip, patiently waiting on their chariot. Travis was dressed like a slutty lumberjack, shirt ripped open at the chest, shorts cut up to the thigh. His eyes were made to look all smoky, his face lathered in make-up to emphasize his features.

Obviously the idea had been meant for the two of them.

Thankfully, Petra had been given something else to wear more appropriate for her age. Whereas he was supposed to be playing up the sexy angle, she was a sweet fairy of some sorts, wings and all. It made Travis smile. And it made him sad. Because she was such a frail thing, all skin and bones, and they expected her to be able to handle this.

At least maybe he had a chance. The Games' history didn't really speak well for twelve years olds in this brand new, awful, terrifying world they'd been thrown into.

"Travis, I'm not-"

He interrupted her as quickly as he could. "Time. Yeah, time. I mean there are other people aren't there? Give it time."

"Travis I don't-"

He was already distracted. It had always been a thing of his. Petra's voice quickly faded to a mumble and then to total silence as her frail hands delicately tightened round the bar, steadying herself as they waited for the door to be opened.

Travis, though, wasn't as easy to coerce into standing idly by without something to do. He looked over his shoulder and caught the sight of Eight's chariot, led by two horses that were staring at the ground, unaware of their new visitor.

"Heya!" Travis called, cheerfully over the animals' heads. Still, they didn't look up. They're not… dead or nothing. Before the two tributes could reply, he stretched over and poked one, jumping back with a startled yelp when they looked up. Can animals… glare? Is that a thing?

He didn't have time to delve into the complexities of animals and their emotions. The boy and girl from Eight, one dressed in tattered clothing, the other stuffed into an oversized pink, frilly pillowcase of a dress, stared at Travis, one of them friendly, the other apprehensive.

It was Miss Scowl and Furrowed Eyebrows that answered his call. "What?"

Straight to the point, huh?

Travis, not so easily put off, smiled and tried to lean forwards without ruffling the horses and aggravating them further. "Just one tribute trying to get to know his fellow competitors. Thought I'd say hey."

"You've said it," the talking marshmallow said.

Travis laughed. "You're all smiles aren't you?" He looked at the boy instead, quiet next to her. "My name's Travis."

"Zeara," she said, before he could. "And this here's Arick."

"And can This Here's Arick speak for himself, or is he a… oh you aren't, are you?" Travis frowned. "I mean-"

"No, I can speak." Arick grinned, looking at Travis, then at his District partner. "I'm just not so… you know. Good at it."

"Good at speaking? Is there such a thing as being bad at speaking?"

Arick blushed. Zeara's brow furrowed even more, so much so Travis was half convinced it was about to snorted up her nostrils. He almost laughed at the thought of it happening. The expression carved into her face stopped him from doing so.

"We're not all obnoxiously irritating like you," Zeara snapped. "Are you really just a friendly tribute trying to get to know his fellow competitors, or are you a tribute trying to rack up some early kills by talking us to death?"

He stuttered over his next words. Zeara raised an eyebrow and smirked. Arick couldn't help but smile. They started to move to face each other, pushing Travis to the side, when he finally found his voice.

"In my defence, I don't actually think you can kill someone by speaking. Biologically, I mean. Unless there's something I don't know about the human body, in which case-"

"Travis," Petra whispered, from by his side. "I think she means tone it down or go away."

"Oh," Travis said, frowning. "Oh… right…"

Petra fell to silence again. Travis looked back at Arick and Zeara and attempted another friendly grin. "Round Two, okay. So I'm Travis and I'm from District Seven. I don't think I know when to shut up but that's mainly because I try to be all friendly, and then when I'm trying to be friendly, I get this overwhelming urge to not stop talking, and then it becomes this sort of weird compulsive, over the top, try-hard verbal diarrhoea-"

"Travis," Arick said, clicking his fingers, red in the face, but a smile in his eyes that made Travis feel a little bit better about the situation. "I'm Arick. This is Zeara. We're District Eight. You're Travis, District Seven." Arick paused. "You… you seem nice."

Travis fumbled over his own tongue to say something back. Zeara seemed to have warmed up a bit, less of a frown and more of an attempt at something friendly. Maybe it was encouragement to keep going.

He looked at Petra, facing forwards, oblivious to his eyes on the top of her head, and then down at his abomination of an outfit. Thirty or so minutes ago, he'd proposed an alliance, been turned down, and made to be a fool. And he knew, given time, no matter what, she wouldn't change her mind.

But he just wanted an alliance. He wasn't trying to be naive about it. He wanted to win. And to win he had to… kill. And as bad as that was, it was a necessary part of his new life.

That didn't mean he wasn't any less of the Travis Sauver that had come from District Seven. That boy was still alive and kicking. That kid had had friends. Had a lot of friends. Enjoyed his life, ignored the haters, and continued surviving with a smile.

Because he'd felt wanted. And in here, to feel wanted, he had to have a….

"Do you want to be in an alliance with me?!" Travis practically yelled, back at Arick and Zeara.

"It's starting," Petra muttered. Travis could barely hear her over his own heart thumping away in his chest. "Travis, it's-"

He felt her tug on his top. Travis ignored her and smiled at the two from District Eight, both of them exchanging a look, Zeara frowning, Arick smiling.

"What makes you think we're in an alliance?" Zeara asked, turning back to face Travis.

"It's obvious," he shrugged his shoulders. "You care about each other."

Arick blushed again. Travis was surprised his face hadn't melted off yet. Zeara, however, sighed and looked down at her feet. What's up with her? He nearly opened his mouth to say something when the loud groan of the doors pulled him back from his overeager thoughts.

Oh… it's starting…

"At least give me a chance," Travis shouted, the noise coming from beyond the stables deafening, drowning out what he had to say. "I PROMISE YOU I'M WORTH IT-"

There was no use in saying anything else. In five seconds, District One started to move and Travis was forced to hold onto the bar for dear life. This was the part he was supposed to excel at. He could get people to like him. People always liked him…. always… usually… sometimes.

And then tomorrow, Arick and Zeara. He could do this. He was good at this. Friends, teams, groups, relationships.

The Games were a close threat, but right now, he was in his element.

Right now, Travis had a job to do.


Fira Trevalle, 18 years old;
District Eleven Female.


In a place with so many loud characters, Fira appreciated the brooding, silent nature of her District partner.

District Eleven's chariot was about to roll out, the two from Ten disappearing into the flashing lights and cheers of the Capitol. Emigdio was doing his absolute best to force a gracious smile onto his face. One thing they'd been told was to make it seem that they were happy to be here.

As if the people who were going to cheer for their deaths were the type of people Fira and Emigdio had to like. Because they were. As hard as it was for Fira to accept, these blood-sport fanatics could potentially be the key to surviving.

She wasn't about to pass up an opportunity at living a little longer. Any hurdle she had to jump, she was already there.

"You look constipated," Fira murmured, trying to break the ice. Though she definitely appreciated the fact Emigdio wasn't all in her face, and as much as Fira definitely preferred her solitude, there came a point where things took a turn in the direction of becoming awkward. "Relax, it'll be okay."

Emigdio didn't meet Fira's eyes when the chariot lurched forwards. Fira had to steady herself with one hand on the bar to stop from toppling over the side and onto the ground. The startled shout that left her mouth was luckily drowned out by the sheer volume of what they were being greeted with.

Even District Eleven, scummy little peasants in their eyes, could be the star of the show. And when they were killing and dying, everyone would love them, cheer their name, and forget who Emigdio and Fira were five minutes later.

The thought made Fira impossibly sad.

"All I'm saying is you have to try a little bit harder," Fira whispered out the corner of her mouth. He had the strong silent intimidating thing down to a tee. Something Fira would never have on her side. But even when she pushed herself to wave for these applauding fools, at least she did it with enthusiasm. "I don't mean to push you into something you don't want, but… well I mean, this isn't exactly a normal parade. Life or death, you know, the whole reason we're here."

"The reason we're here is because these people need a reminder of who's in charge. Even though we're the people who give them everything."

Fira paused. She couldn't argue with that. All her life she'd worked hard to support her family and her District. Really, when she thought about it, everything she did was for the Capitol. Without the Districts, the Capitol had nothing but their fancy technology and flamboyant sense of fashion.

And without the Districts, they didn't have pawns for their Games. It'd be a sad, sad world when they ran out of District scum.

Fira realised she was getting far more irritated than she'd planned. When they ended their first lap and moved onto their second, she plastered the smile on as thick as she could. Anyone from home would find how overly fake it was revoltingly laughable. The Capitol just wanted to be acknowledged and loved. They didn't care how too good to be true a smile was from a tribute.

Finally, they came to a halt in front of the President's mansion. Fira stopped a plastic fruit from falling from her headpiece when their chariot jolted to a stop. Fira didn't bother saying anything to Emigdio. She knew that what she was trying to give the Capitol was the better strategy, but that didn't make it any easier.

All she had to do now, to repay them for everything they'd done, was win and make it back to prove them that Eleven could do it. As the President made his speech, she tried her hardest to push aside what that meant for Emigdio and his children waiting at home. Or any of the other innocent tributes who were in her position.

They couldn't be anything but tributes. The situation was disgusting but she was stuck here. What more could she do but play the part?

"At least that's over and done with," Emigdio said.

Fira looked up at the President and realised his monotonous, repetitive speech was over with. She sighed, exhaling a deep, pent-up breath. "We never have to do that again."

"Maybe I can finally put a shirt on," he grumbled, picking at the pastel coloured pattern decorated across his chest. "As much as I'm… nervous about where we're headed, I'd rather we just got there, you know?"

Their chariot started moving forwards. Fira nodded, though. She understood exactly how he felt. "Better to get it over with. All this glitter is to cover up the inevitable waiting for us."

They came to a stop. Though Emigdio was gruff and seemed to clench his fists whenever he was so easily annoyed, he was a gentleman, a kind, honest person. He helped Fira out of the chariot, nodded at her and bid her a quick goodbye before they could be enveloped by their mentors and stylists.

It had already been established they wouldn't be in an alliance. Emigdio had his children to think of. Any connection with someone from home might put him in a situation that would be hard to make a decision from. Fira sympathised with him. It was the same for her. Though she didn't have any children, at the end of the day, she wanted someone useful but… expendable.

Someone she didn't quite care about, but someone she could trust enough to get places in the Games.

Someone like…

Her eyes met his when he looked up. Fira quickly looked away, slightly embarrassed at first, but turned her head to match his gaze. It wouldn't do her any good if she appeared weak at this early stage. She wasn't some meek, timid pushover.

Gwilym Collier's lip twitched upwards, an ever so subtle smirk on his otherwise composed, coal-dusted face, before he moved in her direction.

Someone like him.

"If you're the type of person I think you are, I trust I don't need to introduce myself."

Fira smiled. "I do my homework. Gwilym Collier, District Twelve. I'm Fira Trevalle, District Eleven. You can probably tell from my-"

"Melons?" Gwilym smirked, laughing. "As dazzling as that headpiece is, I'm sure we both know each other for the same reason. We actually want to know who we're going into the Arena with."

"I like to be productive. Gives me a reason to keep on going," Fira replied.

He was the sort of guy Fira could never be close to, would probably rather punch in his smarmy nose, but could ally with because he was useful enough to help her get as far as she could before she could go out on her own.

That was the sort of person Fira wanted. Emigdio wasn't her friend. But he was from home. He had a piece of her family and friends inside of him. It would be like killing someone she loved if she had to see him die before her.

She wasn't trying to be heartless. But in here, if she didn't think in terms of bettering herself, of throwing people under the bus for her own sake, then she would die and she couldn't accept that.

Gwilym was the tool she had to use.

"I don't think we're allowed to invite people back to our floors. Maybe tomorrow we could arrange some sort of agreement?-"

"An alliance, you mean." Fira stated. The proposal was practically on the tip of his tongue. First impressions meant a lot. Hopefully she had impressed him.

"Not to overstep, but yes. Yes. An alliance," Gwilym said.

Fira started to prepare herself to leave. "Tomorrow we see what each other can do. No point having an alliance with a guy who can barely look after himself, let alone me."

"I didn't think you'd need someone looking out for you. You seem… capable…" Gwilym said.

Fira smiled. "And you seem like you know something that you don't care to tell. Whatever, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

They left it at that.

Fira went one way. Gwilym the other.

She'd taken the first step. Only a thousand more to go.


And we're making progress!

Anyone who has read my stories knows I don't really focus on the outfit side of what this chapter means. First, I'm not creative enough to come up with all the outfits. And second, I'd rather spend more time on the tributes than what they've got on.

Alliances are already coming together. Nothing is confirmed until after training and I post it on my blog, but keep an eye out for who will be teaming up with who. I try to cover everyone but not every alliance will get the same amount of spotlight straight away.

Just to finish, lil add on, it was my birthday yesterday :) How 'bout as a happy birthday for yesterday present y'all could give me a nice little review. Yeah I'm so thirsty. But think about it ;P