Training, Part Three.
Elora Farro — 17 years
District Nine Female
We're minutes late for training, and of course the Instructor starts without us, her need for everything to be efficient and on-time overwhelming every other aspect of her personality. If she has one.
In my honest opinion, she needs to loosen up. Have a little fun.
I slide away from Quill and Arlo, ducking half-behind Spens in my haste to not get glared at. Thankfully, she turns her gaze on the two of them, still standing in the hallway entrance, and I can see the look in Arlo's eyes when he tries not to laugh. I can't help but snicker.
"That wasn't very nice," Kiero mock-whispers from Spens' other side, turning to look at me. I give him a cheeky grin and a thumbs-up, straightening up and shoving myself between them with no warning. Both of them know by now and shuffle over with no complaining.
The rules are the same as yesterday. And the day before that. Only difference is now they're telling us not to step off our plates in two days. Two days. That's it. I could be dead in two days, but that's now how I'm choosing to look at it. In two days I'm going to be alive, and fighting, and not letting them take a thing away from me in the process. When I chance a second-long glance at Kiero and Spens on each side of me, they're both wearing identical frowns.
"Why do you both look like you're constipated?"
I swear Spens almost chokes, and Kiero turns to me, face now in a very different shade of disbelief.
"That's my face, what do you want me to do?"
There's a horrifically loud shushing from the front of the room. I'm able to reign in my laugh before it escapes while Kiero's face goes through several phases, ranging from mortification to a type of embarrassment I don't even think I can describe. Spens' gaze is safely on the floor, the shaking of his shoulders barely perceptible. Initially, I didn't know how the three of us had ended up together, because none of us are too similar. Spens is the fighter and Kiero is some sort of brains, with something in him practically screaming leader in all of our faces. I don't have a name for myself, yet, but I think I'm keeping them sane, in some sort of weird way.
I guess the weirdest combinations end up being the best, in the long run.
At long last we're released. By now mostly everyone was made their little groups, except for the occasional straggler that doesn't quite know where to fit, or someone who wants to be alone. My eyes go to Quill, who's still on his own. Arlo's not far behind him, trying to go somewhere on his own, but every few minutes he gravitates after him, like a balloon on a string.
"Did you talk to them?" Kiero asks me. We're letting Spens lead us to a random station on the other side of the room, the two of us walking shoulder-to-shoulder behind him.
"Yeah. I asked Quill about the ally thing and he just kind of brushed it off. Arlo told me not to feel bad and then he hugged me and told me he was happy I had made friends. Which, for all his efforts, still made me feel bad," I tell him, running a hand through my hair. There's a part of me that knows Quill doesn't want to be alone, but he does at the same time. He was a lot more closed-off, at the beginning. He's starting to care and he doesn't want to. I guess distancing himself is the only thing he's got, at this point.
I don't have an off-switch to stop caring. At the same time, there are points in my life where I just want to escape everyone, let myself be free and live my life without the constraints of other people. It's frustrating. I'm happy, though, with these two. I'm sure they love me harassing them at any time I can.
"It's not your fault, you know," Kiero tells me. "You make your choices, they make theirs. That's all we can do."
I'm half-tempted to smother him in a hug, but something tells me I better leave it for later. We have stuff to do now. Or, at least I thought we did.
"Weren't we here yesterday?" I question, looking at the station and then up at Spens. I distinctly remember the two of them attempting to build a shelter around me, only for one of the attendants to slip a little too close to it and accidentally send it crashing down on top of me. Not productive, but it sure was funny.
"Thought we could talk about plans for the bloodbath, and whatever else," Spens points out, leaning against the station's table behind him. "Might as well figure that out and then go round off whatever else we can learn."
Makes sense. Only thing is, I'm not a tactician. Bloodbath strategies isn't something they teach you in school. I look over at Kiero.
"Okay, your turn. I'm fresh out of ideas."
"Well, I know you're going into the bloodbath," he says quickly, looking evenly at Spens. "But I don't know if we should, I mean—"
"Neither of you need to go in. I'll do it. Just stay on the outskirts, grab whatever you can, and preferably don't leave me there alone," he tells us, composure not breaking in the slightest. I blink in surprise at him.
"You're willing to go at it alone?"
"Neither of you signed up for this. You shouldn't have to."
He's not saying it, but there's a part of him that cares, too. Spens was by no means as reserved and detached as Quill was, but he was still quiet. He doesn't want us to get hurt. That or he's just irrevocably loyal to those he considers his friends. I can see the hesitance in Kiero's eyes, torn between the safety of not having to run into it or having one of us in there alone. Looking at the both of them, there's a funny sort of ache in my chest, happiness that shouldn't be there but is. For the longest time it felt almost impossible to form any sort of relationship this quickly, but with them it's like it was completely natural.
There's not really much to say, so I grab both of them by the shoulders, turning us all until we're in a half-hearted hug type of thing, except it's awkward at best and there's still too much else going on to really focus on it. No matter what it's like, though, I can't find the energy to complain.
"I don't like group hugs," Spens complains. Kiero huffs out a little laugh and I thwack him in the back of the shoulder with the arm I've got around him.
"Get used to it."
When I finally let both of them go, at least half the room's looking at us, confused at whatever display of affection they think they just witnessed. I don't care, though, not about the stares or the whispers.
Knowing that people care is one of the only things that's going to get me through this. Even if it's just these two, or my mentor, or Quill and Arlo, knowing that there's someone fighting with me is one of the only things I could ever think to ask for besides victory.
Whether I'm dying or not, whether it's in two days or two weeks, at least I'll go knowing I tried.
Astrid Lucretius — 18 years
District Four Female
Turns out, staying with Hariwin effectively keeps everyone else a minimum of fifteen feet away from you.
It shouldn't be all that surprising, but it does create a fair bit of annoyance that's only been building up since training started. My initial plan was to stick with Ross and Amara, using Hariwin as a disposable meat-shield when the time was right from him to go. Now I'm stuck with him and the former two barely speak to me. Even when they do, it's me approaching them, and I have to make sure to sneak away from Hariwin before I do.
In short? It's not going exactly as I planned.
Funny thing is, I actually don't mind Terron. He might be an even bigger jackass then Hariwin already is, but he knows it and he's keeping himself from exploding much better. He's still a ticking time bomb, but there's something in him with-holding the detonation. He's strong, and he's deadly, but he's not an idiot. Whoever trained him did a damn good job of it.
So there's the sub-alliances. Camilla and Sheridan. Ross and Amara. And then there's me, with the two guys who are either going to tear the pack down and go down in the fire or win it all.
Hariwin's back at the dummies with an axe this time, one that's so large he's holding it in two hands, cutting the bodies clean in half straight the torso with little to no effort. I can't help but sigh. At least I managed to slip away, sitting at the knot-making station
"You know, it's sort of funny," Terron says casually, lounging across the bench opposite me. "Look at us two, left to deal with, well, whatever the hell you wanna call him."
I turn to glare at him. "I'm pretty sure I'm dealing with both of you at this point."
He gasps dramatically, feigning shock, and puts a hand over his heart.
"You wound me. I'm not the one that's going to snap and kill us all."
Looking at Hariwin, I'm almost positive it will happen, hence me trying to get on his good side. My hopes are that if he does lose it, he'll be gracious enough to spare me. It's nerve-wracking, basing your chances of survival on someone else's mental stability, but it's too late to weasel my way in somewhere else.
"You're still not a good person," I point out, not turning back to him. "So don't pull that shit."
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a grin spread across his face. "Neither are you, sweetheart."
It takes everything in me not to whip around and shake him so hard he falls over. It's still kind of tempting. I know that. I could have been a good person, except that all went down the drain the second we got here. The second I decided Hariwin was mine to use and no one else's. I'm prepared to kill people, to do whatever I have to do to survive.
"None of us are good people," I settle on. Terron, for once, keeps his mouth shut, only humming in quiet agreement. The pack has been built on lies and murder and deceit for years now; honor, at this point, is scarce. When it is seen it's almost shocking. That's why I'm not Ross, who is too nice for his own good, or Amara, who's too hesitant. Hell, even Sheridan, who's unbelievably strong but not a cut-throat competitor by any means.
Everything I am is made up of things I spent years perfecting. Leadership. Intelligence. All-around competence and the ability to do whatever I have to, because that's what Careers are. And now here I am, surrounded by all of the people who are managing to shove my personality into the background by breaking free of the norm.
I get up without comment and to my surprise, Terron gets up and follows, albeit with an eye-roll and a deep sigh full of irritation, like he can't bear the thought of getting up. From this moment on, I'm no longer the background object. These past three days I've spent following someone around, trying to talk to people who glance at me a certain level of distrust in their eyes that I don't like.
I end up at the largest weapons station in the center. Tridents aren't particularly suited for targets like the ones they've got up, so I spend a few minutes dragging dummies of various heights and widths around until their situated in a ragged circle. After the first few a trainer trots over, trying to offer me a helping hand, and I shoo him away, sending him scuttling back to his original area. Good. Let them be scared. Let them know I don't want to be fucked with, now or ever.
Terron seems content to sit back and watch, but he's still here, standing not far away, just watching. There a subtle, barely-there smirk on his face. When I turn to him he winks at me, crossing his arms. I'm half-tempted to throw him the finger, or go over there and shove him somewhere else, but he's not what's important right now.
I cross over to the weapons rack and grab a trident in one hand, tossing in between my hands a few times. The weight's a bit different than the ones at home, but the cool, sleek metal still feels the same, reminding me that I'm the weapon here. It only does damage if I want it to. I'm the one in control.
I return to the center of the circle, taking a few breaths to compose myself. It feels as if I've belonged to someone my entire life, been used for whatever they deem is appropriate. So this moment right here, it's entirely for me. In a matter of seconds I've blocked everything else out - the noises, the objects, the people milling around. None of it matters.
Time is futile when I'm fighting and I lose sense of everything else in the midst of the slashing and the stabbing, tearing the dummies apart like they're real enemies. There's one's arm, poised one second, lying on the floor the next, it's cottony innards spilling out on the floor. Another one's head goes flying at least ten feet away. I bury the trident in another one's stomach, wishing I had a knife in the other hand.
By the time I'm done, the floor's a mess around me. At least three quarters of the dummies are lying on the floor, limbs haphazardly arranged or separated from the body entirely. One behind me is still hanging on to it's position, one leg dangling, the other one placed solidly on the floor. With a last strike to the side of the head with my bare fist I send it crashing to the floor, landing with a dull thud.
Terron's standing five feet behind where it used to be, grinning wildly. He looks way too entertained, but I only get a second to reflect on that though before he's giving me a very slow clap, shaking his head in what's probably exasperation. The trainer quickly joins in, looking only a little afraid.
Most of the room is looking at me. Not at anyone else, or me as an addition to someone else's personality. Just me, knowing that I can stand up and fight for myself. I deserve this. I deserve to win.
No one else in this room comes close.
Audessa Paxton — 15 years
District Five Female
I haven't cried since the first night on the train, and the worst part is I can feel it all starting to come back. There's that overwhelming, crushing feeling again, the loneliness that's constantly bearing down on my shoulders. I talked to plenty of people the past two days and nothing's come of it. And it only gets worse when I sit back, realizing that a twelve year old has an ally and I don't.
What am I doing wrong?
I end up back at the archery station. I've been here a lot the past three days. I'm still not great, but it's something, and I don't want to have to get close to someone if I have to kill them. There's still a part of me that's hoping I won't have to, but I know that's being delusional. If I'm getting out of here, I'll have to kill people. I know that.
There's a larger, more overwhelming part of me that doesn't think I can do it.
I'm not that person. Mom always said I was too nice for my own good. I love being with other people; having fun and enjoying myself, and now they want me to be the exact opposite.
"Hey, you said Dess was fine, right?
I barely notice Falco approach with Abigail trailing behind him. We talked right at the end of training yesterday before being called to go our separate ways. I nod, blinking away whatever emotion was threatening to rise. At this point I don't know if the tears are sadness, anger, or downright frustration. Everything is blending together until I can't even figure out what the thoughts in my own head mean.
"Well, Abbie and I we're talking and we were wondering if you wanted to be allies?" Falco asks, smiling genuinely. "We didn't get a chance, yesterday, but last night we thought it would be a good idea."
All at once every single tear I wanted to cry is back again, but for an entirely different reason. In a matter of seconds, everything changed. Lumin said it could happen, I was just starting to believe he was being nice and didn't want to crush my hopes. They want me for me. Falco's eyes widen when he takes in my expression, what is probably my blurry, tear-filled eyes and trembling lower lip.
"Okay, uh, shit, please don't cry, I don't know how to deal with people when they cry, Abbie help me—"
Abbie laughs, and then I'm laughing, and it's so relieving when she steps forward and hugs me. It's quick, but it's calming, but all I can focus on over her shoulder is Falco's huge, confused eyes.
"Is that a yes? I'm thinking it is but I am so not equipped to handle this," he says earnestly. Abbie chuckles again and steps back, shoving him lightly in the shoulder.
"That's a yes," she tells him, shaking her head fondly, before turning back to me. "Ignore him, he's an idiot."
Falco splutters indignantly and it's hard to focus on anything else, when we're all smiling and he's waving his arms at his frantically, first in confusion and then just because it makes us laugh. And to think, I was beginning to think I wouldn't have this. Allies. Friends. I know I was told that friends aren't the best idea, that it could only just hurt more in the end, but they'll make me strive further. With them by my side, I'll have the confidence to fight harder.
Despite all of this, despite the two of them laughing away, shoving at each other like nothing's wrong, I can't help but envision what's going to happen. Our private sessions later today. Interviews tomorrow. And then the games. The bloodbath. Some of these kids are going to die, kids who are good and pure who don't deserve to lose their life so early. Falco and Abbie deserve to live just as much as the next person and so do I. For the slightest bit, I find myself quieting down, but I still feel that flicker of hope sitting just inside me. No matter what I think, I won't let anybody extinguish it.
"Well, we don't have much longer until we have to do the private sessions. Anything else we want to do?" Abbie asks, turning in a full circle. I think all of us have touched on basically everything. Eventually she chooses to stay at the archery station, one last attempt to hone her skills. I end up trailing after Falco to the spear station, even though he waves me back a solid fifteen feet from him when he picks up a spear, waving it around threateningly. It's hard to be scared when I see the earnest smile on his face, almost like a puppy. At least he's moved on from the swords.
For once, I don't find I have much to say. I'm content to be with them, with them, just happy. Enjoying what could be the last few days of my life. I let him ramble on about his girlfriend, and I'm starting to think he's not even realizing that he's doing it. He blows through topics like the wind. Offhandedly, he mentions what he thinks is Abbie's supposedly massive crush on one of the Four guys, and out of nowhere Abbie appears like she dropped down from the ceiling, looking like she's about to tackle him to the ground. Falco's still got the spear in his hands, grinning wildly, backing away from her outstretched arms. The trainer looks like she's about to faint.
For the first time since I'm here, I think, I start laughing. Not super loud, or energetic, but a genuine chuckle that somehow comes forth like it was nothing. Abbie turns to look at me, glaring, but there's no real malice in her eyes.
"Don't believe him. Remember, he's an idiot."
"Right," I deadpan. Falco looks downright amused at this point. I step forward, prying the spear out of his hand before he accidentally chops off someone's limb. He gives me a grateful look.
"Thanks. Don't want to chop my own arm off, hey?"
"The only thing you've done so far is accidentally knee yourself in the face, hence why she shouldn't believe you," Abbie points out. She tosses an arm around my shoulders, looking between me and him. I put the most innocent look I can muster on my face, smiling. It just feels so natural, like I've known them for years, and I'll never be able to truly express the amount of gratitude I have for that. They're bonded by home and by circumstance and somehow I made it into their little group without even feeling like an outsider.
"Alright, whoever gets the highest score gets to decide who's right. Sound good?" Falco decides, looking between us both. I nod. Even if I somehow managed it, there's no way I'm getting in the middle of this little competition. The longer this continues on, the more I'll be amused, and right now, I don't want anything else.
"You'll be regretting that when I kick your ass."
"I get to go in first, they won't even remember you!"
"Technically I get to go in first," I remind them. "So good luck with that."
Both of them turn to look at me. Falco goes to say something again and I clap a hand over his mouth, trying not to giggle at the look on his face.
"No more talking. You'll pass out from the lack of air and get a terrible score," I say sternly. His eyebrows almost touch his airline. Abbie downright snorts, clapping her hands together.
"I love you, damn. This was a great idea."
And right now, there's not a part of me that disagrees with her.
Quill Grove — 17 years
District Nine Male
The room is a lot more tense than I remember it being during training.
That might have something to do with the fact that most of the Capitol opinions are riding on the score you get. That, and the fact that the Careers have all gone and went back to their floors, so there's no point in putting up a pretense of strength. No one left really cares.
Spens comes out and one of the Seven's goes in, red hair spilling out of the ponytail she's got it in, but her fists are clenched tight. She's determined. The other two call out good luck's after her, the boy's almost drowning out the girls. When Spens passes by us Elora holds out her fist, waving her arm at him until he bumps it with his own. She smiles in satisfaction, dropping her hands back into her lap, and ruffles Arlo's hair when she notices his amused smirk.
The Ten girl's sitting a few feet away from me on the left. Arlo's smushed between me and Elora, with Kiero on her other side. We're all relatively quiet, the occasional comment being stirred up here or there, but every ounce of energy each of us has is being channeled into this situation. We'll be able to talk afterwards; celebrate or lock ourselves in our rooms based on the results.
I think I'll do alright. I know Elora's got about the same skill as me, so I can only hope they don't get bored by the time I get in there.
"So, what're you gonna do in there?" Arlo asks me. He asked me that two minutes ago and I shrugged. I guess he thinks he'll get a better response this time around. Thing is, he knows what I'm doing. I told him this morning.
"Besides what I already told you," I say dryly. "Introduce myself? What else am I supposed to do?"
"I don't know, tell some jokes? Sing? Make up a dance?"
"You told me two days ago my jokes were terrible."
Arlo looks thoughtful. "Yeah, they are. No offense. The dancing thing is still totally valid though."
He looks so goddamn earnest. Like he's trying his hardest to help, even if he doesn't realize that he's almost always the one talking and chattering on about something or other. When I met him, it was annoying. Now it's endearing. Distance only works if you can keep it up, and I can't. The thing is, I told myself I wasn't protecting anyone. But now I don't have any allies. And the longer I'm half-listening to Arlo, glancing at him out of the corner of the eye to make sure he doesn't notice my half-hearted attempt at paying attention, the more I feel this little sort of nagging, like I'm being pulled in his direction.
In short, a fourteen year old has managed to reel me in more than almost anyone else has.
When he gets up, demonstrating some sort of apparent ninja-move he's planning on showcasing to the Gamemakers, I let myself lean back against the wall, arms crossed over my chest. I know it's a bad idea, but not for my original reasons. There's something in him that gives me hope, that makes me stop criticizing myself for two seconds and just live. And I haven't felt like that in a long time.
Elora gets up when her name's called. Has it been that long? I guess so. She half-strangles Arlo into a hug, waves goodbye at me, and takes off through the doors.
"Hey, Arlo," I say quietly. He turns to me, cocking one eyebrow. It's beyond me how he does it. "Come over here before you accidentally wound someone."
His face falls, but he takes his spot back at my side again. He thinks I'm irritated. I lean over, bumping his shoulder lightly with my own. He brightens up a little, giving me a small smile.
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I just gotta ask you something."
Arlo hums, turning towards me, picking absently at the frayed ends of his sleeve.
"D'you wanna be allies?"
The kid nearly gives himself whiplash, his head snapping him as well as his arm, nearly hitting me straight in the face. I manage to rear back in time, nearly landing flat on the bench. Seems like that's been happening a lot lately.
"Are you serious?" He splutters. "Seriously, you have the same facial expression you always have, I don't know if you're kidding."
I can't help but smile, looking down at my lap and chuckling lightly under my breath.
"Stop laughing, you jerk!"
I rub my hands over my face, like it'll make the smile go away, while Arlo sits half-perched on the bench, looking one slip away from falling straight to the floor. I manage to wipe off most of the smile, turning to him.
"I'm just gonna say yes," he rushes out. "Because I don't know if you're kidding, but if you were, well now you're stuck with me and I'm just confused because you told me you didn't want to have to protect someone—"
"Remember to breathe," I interrupt, trying not to laugh again. "And I realized something. You don't need protecting and neither do I. You spent a half hour this morning following the Four guy around because you knew he was annoyed. You're young, but you're not scared. And I need someone like that watching my back."
Arlo goes silent, sitting sideways on the bench, just staring. In this moment, there's more happiness in his eyes than I've seen yet, and no one has seen anything but. For a second I forget everything I'm worried about, forget the self-doubt that's always had a home somewhere deep in my stomach. I see a shift in his eyes and he just barely twitches, like he wants to lunge across the bench and hug me. He knows better, though. Elora tried it yesterday and I turned into a wooden board. Unintentional, but I couldn't help it.
Elora comes back through the doors and my name is announced over the speakers. With a small sigh I rise to my feet, giving Arlo a smile that he returns, huge and bright. Elora holds up her hand upon approaching me, face the slightest bit flushed, but confident.
"You high-five me or I'm grabbing you and causing a scene."
I roll my eyes but raise my arm, slapping her hand with my own. She cheers but thankfully doesn't try anything else, letting me enter the Training Center with no other fuss. Just before the doors closes, I'm almost certain I can hear Arlo yelling some sort of encouragement after me. The silence and the lack of movement is eerie. It seems like it's several times bigger with no one here; no noise to fill it except the barely discernible chatter of the Gamemakers on their balcony. Head Gamemaker Mervaine is leaning against the edge, a drink dangling from one hand. If I'll give him anything, it's that he's attentive.
I glance around one last time. Sickles to the right. Training floor torn apart to the front of me, the slightest bit to the left. Probably the Careers, or maybe Spens. Most of the survival stations behind me. With one last effort that feels almost momentous, I tell myself to just stop thinking. For these few minutes, I'm not going to doubt myself. Vigilant in everything I do, even here.
"Quill Grove, District Nine," I announce, trying to force some amount of enthusiasm into my voice. "And I'm not dancing."
Mervaine laughs, taking a sip of whatever purple concoction that's in his glass, straightening up a bit as he meets my eyes.
"Good to know. Begin."
I'm back. Another sincere apology in case you didn't see the note on my profile for missing last week's update. From here on out I should (hopefully) be on track and we'll get into the serious stuff soon enough. Also, shoutout to kopycat101 who's going back and reviewing and also telling me not to worry about missing updates. You're the best.
Training's done, everyone. Two more chapters and then I'm killing people! Who's excited?
As a sort of FYI, I tried to follow, for the most part, what all of you put under the little 'allies' section in your tribute's form. Obviously I can't follow everything, some things I need to do purely for plot purpose, so if I went against your wishes or you're doubting where this is going, trust me? Don't worry, everything is for a reason. And I've got a lot of future plans for this. All alliances are updated on the blog. As well, immediately after posting this, I'm putting up their training scores in their little profile thing. I didn't want to write individual private sessions, so I'm hoping no one minds. And please don't be offended by whatever your tribute scored, I beg of you. If you want reasoning for what your tribute got, feel free to ask.
Until next time.