"Sometimes the wire must tense for the note
Caught in the fire, say oh
We're about to explode"
-Atlas, Coldplay
Mizuko Hali, District Four Male
May 22nd, 3:14 P.M.
Mizuko never knew how much Gavin Drown wanted him to die.
"Mags, dearie, your brain is slow for such a young thing," Gavin said, sneering, though Mags was seven years his senior. "The rules are the rules, darling. Male mentor gets the male tribute; female mentor gets the female tribute."
"Gav," Mags said, exasperated, "these are our children. Not just Miz," she said, gesturing to Mizuko, who sat, dully stabbed his chicken. The prongs reminded him of his trident. Silently, his eyes met Gavin's, his to be mentor, before returning to the chicken. If only they switched…
"- but Harleen is your daughter, too. Whatever fatherly bone in your body needs to-,"
"- Do nothing. Harleen knows what she needs to do," he countered, pointing at Harleen without looking at her. Her blonde locks greatly matched her sickeningly sweet blue eyes. "-and Miz should, as well. He's been training, Mags. He can take care of himself." Mizuko didn't miss the sly grin Gavin wore afterwards.
"Gav," Mags said, a desperate whine forming from the desperate woman.
Gavin replied with a smirk as he rose rubbing off the remains of his sandwich onto the ground. Mizuko watched the man hop up before sauntering into his private car. Harleen remained, hacking her cut of beef with her infamous crazed grin.
"The turkey's been dead if you haven't noticed, Harleen," Cobalt said, disgusted.
"Just making sure," Harleen hummed, now viciously banging the table with the hilt of her knife.
"Harleen," Mags said, grabbing her wrist, halting the next blow that would've left the turkey mangled into non-existence. "Drop the knife."
Harleen glared, eye twitching before finally loosening her death grip on the blade, letting it clank loudly against the cold tiles beneath them. Mags released Harleen's wrist with a scowl. "Save it for the Games."
"Why wait, mentor?" she glowered, cackling psychotically. "Why wait when I can practice? Oh, next time it won't be a turkey. It'll be him," she growled, jutting a crooked finger in Mizuko's direction.
Mags's calm expression vanished, leaving a threatening, animatistic scowl that Mizuko remembered vaguely from her Games. From her Games when she killed with the ease that Harleen easily had.
"Get out," Mags began, her voice low and dangerous, leaving even Harleen slightly stunned. "I said," she murmured, pushing the table, clattering dishes and her chair behind her to the floor, crashing wildly, "GET OUT," she barked, an outcry that would've made President Quinn bolt for the door.
Harleen scampered out furiously, nearly tripping on the door frame into the next room; her signature grin wiped clean off her face and replaced with an afraid frown.
Mizuko and Cobalt, the escort who'd been oh so intelligent not to utter a word up to this point, remained silent and still as Mags turned, wiping the dust and glass off her lap.
"Sorry," Mags murmured, glancing at her son and brushing the hair out of his eyes. Mizuko smiled weakly, leaving a dense, impenetrable silence to smother the train car.
"Anywho," Cobalt hummed, hastily rising and skittering to the other side of the train car, grabbing a muffin as a cover, "we don't have to focus on this… disagreement for now." She grabbed Mizuko's unsuspecting hands, enticing an ever intelligent 'what' out of his pink lips. "Aren't you excited to see the Capitol? See what your mother has truly accomplished? Oh, there are so many things to be anxious for, my child! No need to worry about Mr. Drown or Ms. O'Connell." The silent 'or your mother' was surprisingly easy to catch.
"Maybe you can," Mizuko murmured as he stood, quickly swiping his napkin across his mouth, ridding himself of the sour chicken giblets, "since your life isn't on the line."
Cobalt gasped; his own mother raised her hands to her temples, rubbing them gently. The action became usual for her - she'd always said temples were always under attack. That it was her way of fighting back.
"Mister! I am here, trying to help. Do not make me regret passing down District One," she said, waving her finger violently.
"Sorry," Mizuko mumbled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm usually not like this. You know, teenage hormones, the movement of the train, my impending death. Yeah. Not feeling up to par right now."
Cobalt gasped once more before sneering at Mizuko, then his mother. "Mongrels, all of you!" she screeched, waving her hand mockingly at the mother and son. "Good riddance! I am an escort, not a punching bag, thank you very much. Hmph! I should've taken District One when I had the chance."
Surprisingly, Mags remained calm. Her recent reaction to Harleen's prudishness was one of the few times Mizuko had seen her aura break. The others had been in her Games.
The whoosh of the automatic doors gave way to both Mizuko and Mags releasing a sigh. A sigh of relief, pain, anxiety. Everything they'd ever felt.
His mother's hands, wrinkled for the thirty-one year old she was, rested solemnly on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry you had to see that. She threatened you, and I couldn't save you the first time, so I have to save you n-,"
"I know, mom," he responded, a childish grin running over his face. Mags replicated his grin, and just for a moment, Mizuko wasn't in this train to his death. He was in the pier, wading in the water, waiting for Rain to join them.
Just for a moment.
Mags's grin faded alongside Mizuko's before clearing her throat and whispering to Mizuko in a darker voice, with darker eyes.
"Gav's not going to give in."
"I know."
"That means he'll be withholding sponsor gifts from you."
"I know."
"But you'll still be okay."
Mizuko's green eyes met his mother's blue ones, a quiet sadness sinking into both of them as the silence filled the empty space where Mags and Mizuko both had been hoping for reassurance.
"Mom," Mizuko said, his voice cracking under the pressure, the first tear rolling down his bronze skin, "I might not -,"
His mother's eyes welled, her left hand cupping her son's face as her right stifled a sob.
"I know."
Naya Elbasser, District Six Female
May 22nd, 6:17 P.M.
"Darling, if we'd met under more agreeable circumstances, the options would be endless," Cable said, winking at Naya for what must've been the thousandth time in the one damn day she'd spent with the idiot. Jollan had told her about some guy who'd been in at least of half District Six's pants.
Cable must've been that guy.
Naya considered the endless options, but not the ones Cable'd suggested, but ones for him. Drowning, burning, and poison all gained a spot on her special list.
Naya's mind fluttered the table, partly deliberately to avoid the pompous idiot who continued to go on and on about what could've been, partly through her ADHD. It was times like these when she appreciated being able to plug out the world and relax.
She was almost completely sure that she was the only tribute to ever know that there were seven hundred and eight tiles on the ceiling.
"Focus!" screamed Argeliba, whose arms swung around, though surprisingly, not at Naya. Instead, her jet black locks flung violently towards Cable, who smirked at the screeching mentor before them. "Can you not try to get in someone's pants for once? You're on your way to the Capitol, kid. Where. You. Will. Die," she said, motioning dramatically at every word at Cable, who only laughed in response.
"See? I make all the girls go nuts," Cable said to Naya, snickering as Argeliba turned a darker shade of red. Her mind once again flew to another place, another time, trying to name the color Argeliba had turned.
Her elementary teacher, Ms. Fink, squeaked blissfully at the classroom of students surrounding her. Naya had counted sixteen.
Fink's birdlike arms swung happily, chanting a nursery rhyme that'd been etched in Naya's brain since that class as the students ran, streamers of varying colors in hand, screeching the lyrics they'd come to love.
'The Rainbow starts at zero, then it builds its way up! The tea just starts to boil, then it's poured in its cup!'
Naya unconsciously smiled at the pure insanity of her teacher - and herself for that matter. They went on for what felt like hours, spewing random facts that were only partially true. A wave of nostalgia left Naya clutching her chest, shooing away the past, though only momentarily. As the pain past, Naya quietly continued to hum the familiar tune to herself until the verse she'd been looking for made its appearance.
The Rainbow is made of many colors, it will never, ever be dead! There are so many different shades of the color red! First there's the light ones: pink and cherry, then there's the dark ones: maroon and-
"Maroon!" Naya said, victoriously, raising her fork in pure joy. Argeliba, who'd just begun to lecture Cable stopped, scrunching her eyebrows at her outburst. Corienth, her relatively down-to-earth escort, frowned, looking up from his cut of roast beef for the first time. Even Cable seemed confused.
"Excuse me?" Argeliba spat, literally and figuratively, across the table, a wild anger burning in her eyes.
Oh, crap.
Naya slowly descended into her chair, her ears and hands burning a bright red in embarrassment. Her feet gently rubbed against the carpet beneath her, her lips tugging upwards. The carpet was maroon.
"Oh, just my- the, um, just, sorry," Naya sputtered, all the while trying to hold back from either bursting out in laughter at the carpet's color or bursting into tears over her stupidity.
Argeliba's glare remained on her, eyes twitching, expression morphing dangerously. She looked just about ready to bring out her infamous spear and start chucking when Corienth, of all people, the Capitolite, spoke up.
"She," he paused, throwing her a questioning look, "Naya, right?" Naya nodded quickly. "She's just stressed. Let's all just get some rest. We'll view the other tributes tomorrow, and we'll be a bit more civil," he said with a playful grin resting upon his thin lips, his eyes meeting Argeliba's accusingly. "Any problem with that?"
A round of disgruntled mumbles left the Capitolite, whose only visible difference from a regular District citizen was his messy, yet ever so slightly attractive hair, with a half grin. "Good. See the lot of you in the morning."
Naya rose, picking up her half-eaten plate and going to the kitchen as a girl, who couldn't have been any older than her, stopped her, evading her gaze, but not her plate. She scurried off, fondly reminding Naya of the various animals she'd spot on her way from school with Jollan.
Jollan.
Just the thought of him felt like a punch in the gut. Jollan, who'd always saved her from the brats back him, Jollan, who'd never left her since the day they'd met, Jollan, whose presence could relieve her of everything.
Jollan, who would only see her as a corpse.
Naya shook her head, trying to erase both Jollan's memories along with the vivid picture of her corpse flying back to Six. Without success, of course.
But truly, was it any shame? Considering the inevitable? There was no doubt. She'd be returning home in a wooden box.
A dark glaze ran over her eyes; her fists clenched. Even a sullen smile slicked over her now sour face as she heard different bids of goodnight behind her.
She'd only returned after she glowed. Glowed, burned, ruled. Nobody would forget her, the girl who couldn't focus, couldn't win. Nobody would forget her after she glowed, leaving her mark.
Just as her mother had.
Janos Sheenan, District Seven Male
May 23rd, 10:14 A.M.
Both Onyx and Janos flinched at Princeton's sharp wheeze. One of many quirks of his. The old man had wrinkles where the sun, at least hopefully, didn't shine. His hair, however, was sickening blue, matching his blood-red skin on the level of insanity.
"Whippersnappers," Princeton muttered as he slowly sat down on the couch in which Onyx and Adam, Janos's mentor, resided.
"Careful, Princeton," Janos said with a chuckle, "might break a bone if you move any slower."
His mentor's blue eyes whipped at Janos with malice - apparently he'd gotten attached to the old tut during his years here - before the elderly man rose, a tad faster, with his cane ready to swing.
"Now, now, Prince," Adam said as he restrained Princeton, his eyes still trained on Janos, who smirked at Adam. "Kid's not worth it."
Princeton visibly weighed his options - leaning left and right as he mumbled words to himself and Adam before sneering at Janos and sitting back down with a grunt. "Careful, Janos. Might lose a tooth if you say anything again."
A moment of thick, beautiful silence graced District Seven's train before Onyx, his pipsqueak of a district partner, spoke out.
"What exactly are we doing here?" Onyx murmured, pulling her cashmere sweater's cuffs down to the heel of her hand. A habit of hers. Janos remembered her vaguely - a servant on some estate. Never did have a reason to have faith in herself. Perhaps that's why, though she was his age, his height, his physique, she would die whereas he would live.
"We," Iona, Onyx's mentor, began as she settled herself on the opposite end of Janos's couch, effectively dragging Janos out of his thoughts, "are viewing the competition."
Janos perked up. Competition? Is that what they were calling it? Anyone with half a brain would see that these Games were his. His age played no part in the fact that he would be going home, healthy and rich. A light grin plastered itself on Janos's mouth. These Games weren't a big deal - he would be back soon, anyway.
Only when the shining, glimmering lights of District One along with the ferocious cries of anticipation from the Careers did Janos's enthusiasm waver. Perhaps… perhaps he did have some competition. He quickly brushed it off, quickly regaining his confident composure. District One was just talk, anyway.
"Typical Career District," Iona murmured, jabbing her finger in distasteful at the cheering kids, practically calling for the blood to start to flow. "S'okay," she murmured as she looked over to Onyx, who'd paled drastically at the marred fangs gliding through the screen. "They turn on each other almost every year. You'll be fine," she said with a weak attempt at a smile.
Janos couldn't tell who she was trying to convince.
But even with the seemingly never-ending crowd of bloodthirsty, vicious animals, the girl, of all things, was reaped. Dainty little blonde thing shook like an aspen leaf. Janos laughed, and for once, Adam didn't scold him.
The camera flew through the tributes, landing on a girl whose arm bled profusely. A sister? Relative? Quickly, his first guess went out the window as the girl smirked, snarled at the reaped girl. Rosemarie, or so he'd heard. It didn't matter, truly. She'd be dead soon, anyway.
Eventually the camera made its way back to showcasing the girl, who after a second look, looked frailer and shook more than he'd first thought. Her blonde locks were showcased in a bun, leaving her tears prominent.
"See? Nothing to worry about," Iona soothed, her smile enlarging upon the male volunteer being no bigger than he was. The boy had waited until District One's mentor appeared ready to call it a day before stepping up. "District One is really letting go of itself," she mused with a grin.
Onyx visibly relaxed, her shoulder slacking, and a light sigh passing through her small lips, but Janos remained vigilant. It'd seemed they'd already forgotten. Only the past year, Pasiphae Jacoby volunteered, perhaps smaller than the boy, Everest, was, by a head. Yet, she entered her Games with a vicious thirst to kill, quenching it with her total kill count - the highest ever - thirteen.
Janos was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of laughter.
The tension in the room had apparently vanished; instead, light laughter, usually from Iona or Onyx, filled the atmosphere. Even Princeton flashed a grin as Onyx, before a cold, stony girl, giggled in joy as Adam lightly tickled her. Janos couldn't help but roll his eyes at their idiocy, their cowardice to tell the girl that she going to die a bloody death. He had enough restraint, however, to remain silent.
Another reason these Games were so obviously his.
Through the entire bonding process, Janos remained silent. It was useless - trying to bond. Odds were, Onyx wouldn't be his ally. Janos barely held back a scoff. Those odds were nonexistent. His hardened eyes ran over the laughing figure of his district partner. She was a player, a competitor, albeit a weak and jumpy one. And all that this entire process was a game.
A game that Janos planned to win. No matter the cost.
Ira Quince, District Eleven Female
May 23rd, 5:53 P.M.
"Maybe it'd be better if Roan and I worked together, just until the Games start," Ira suggested quietly to Daisy, who accusingly glared at her tribute.
"Are you insane, Ira? They're plotting." Another fearful glance was shot at the father and son, Roan and Jon Kohl, who were murmuring while watching the recaps. "Against us," she whispered, leaning into Ira with wide eyes. Ira sighed, pinching her bridge at a weak attempt to drown out her mentor.
It was just her luck that she got the crazed mentor.
"Sure doesn't look like it, Daisy," Ira said, sullenly leaning back in her chair. "Looks like they're checking out our competition. It's kinda what we're supposed to be doing."
"Ira! Don't you see? They're trying to hurt us. If we sit down there, they'll be on us like purple on a violet. Quinn hasn't left me alone since I won! She's setting both of us up to die."
Ira flinched. Quinn. She knew that name. Her eyes scrunched up before the memory, the face, and the blood clicked together.
"Quinn Desential? The Victor from, what, two years ago? Why would-,"
"No, no." Daisy turned at the Kohl pair suspiciously, then the outlining walls before warily speaking to Ira. "President Quinn."
Ira tried not to laugh. The President was cold, yes, but there was no reason to believe the sugar-high mentor who trembled before her. She'd barely been able to stand when she needed to use the bathroom hours ago, why would the most powerful person in Panem need her dead? Ira shook her head, disappointment and frustration welling up in her throat, begging to scream at how stupid, senseless this woman was. "Excuse me, Daisy. I'm sorry, I really am, but you're an idiot. I need to win these Games. And if you aren't going to help, fine. Sit here and dream on," Ira muttered, rising from the table with a huff.
Daisy lunged for her hand, begging in some language that wasn't Panemian. Chanting, almost. Ira rolled her eyes at the woman before escaping the wooden table Daisy'd apparently gotten attached to over the years.
And they wondered why District Eleven hadn't gotten any Victors recently.
As she tried to ignore Daisy's wails, Ira settled on the chair next to Jon, who flinched at the sudden movement. Jon looked her over before glancing at Daisy, who glared crazily at the man, continuing to chant and wave her hands ceremoniously at the trio. Ira pinched her bridge once more.
She'd gotten the feeling that she'd need to for the next week or so.
"I see you've met Daisy," Jon said with a chuckle. Roan nodded sympathetically. Ira raised an eyebrow at the notion before quickly lowering it. Roan had lived in the Victors' Village since he was a child. It was no wonder that he knew his neighbor was a lunatic.
"I have," Ira said indifferently before turning to the recaps, which broadcasted a shining 7. "What'd I miss?"
"District One was a joke," Jon muttered, glancing at Ira's questioning glance before elaborating, "a reaped girl and some scrawny boy."
Ira gave a go-on nod, in which Jon complied. "District Two looks… decent. Two volunteers. The girl's on the shorter side, but she could probably pack a wicked punch," Jon said, smiling. "Probably wouldn't hit you too high, though."
"Three looks average. The girl could be a potential ally to both of you. She had this… this look in her eye that says 'Ally.' Boy won't be a problem," Jon's voice ceased temporarily. Following his gaze, Ira watched two young tributes stand, obviously shaken, but not in tears, nor crying out. Impressive for such young tributes. The boy had the shyest of grins while the girl rubbed her wrists unconsciously.
"So Seven's decent too, I guess," Jon muttered, watching the two tributes make their way to their Goodbyes. Ira flinched, rubbing the spot her mother had given her a thwack in her goodbye. She'd had it coming. Her last child was running to death, away from her.
"I don't think I want allies, actually," Ira murmured. Jon looked pained as he began to speak.
"Neither did I. But Okra and I," he paused, looking past them both and outside the windows, where trees ran past, and lakes swimming at the speed of light. "We were a team. We got to the finale together. Together, we could get more food and cover for each-,"
"But then she died," Ira said, lowly. Jon's eyes widened. "She died, and you watched. Obviously, it gets to you. I can't, won't attach myself to someone who needs to die. I couldn't live with myself once I get to the point where I care for them."
"You don't have to get to that point, just-,"
"Jon," Ira murmured, "I can't."
Both Jon and Roan appeared let down - she'd guess that they'd been planning on asking her to be Roan's ally. Her eyes watched Roan's hands bring his knees to his head, burying himself temporarily.
It broke her heart.
"We can finish the recaps tomorrow," Jon said quietly. Ira nodded silently, her feet moving rapidly into her room, abandoning Jon and Roan at the living car.
A frustrated sigh passed her lips and flew into the bed, her fists slamming the bed in anger. She couldn't ally. And yet she couldn't imagine sitting in the Arena, alone, afraid, without anyone to confess to. Without anyone to fight alongside. To kill alongside.
Her mind mentally shut down at the thought of killing. Killing, the idea that'd brought her here slowly pushed her off the edge. She'd come to break someone. Stop their heart, break their bones. But now, Ira doubted she could.
The thought of killing became harder and harder to imagine each day - knowing that each day brought that reality closer and closer. Her drive became skewed, no longer to avenge her brother, but just wanting to go home. That's all she wanted now. She just wanted to go home. Back where she didn't have to be alone, back to where she didn't have to kill.
But now, now, she had no choice. There was only one way out.
She would kill.
A/N: Hey! I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter!
As you can see, different format plan was put into action. Each district will have one chapter from one character's POV, resulting in three Train Ride Chapters. Then we'll go into the Chariot Rides, Training, and so forth.
POLL RESULTS
As promised, the winner(s) of the poll will have immunity from the bloodbath. The results are as follows:
First Place with Six Votes- Naya Elbasser of District Six, Mizuko Hali of District Four, and Syrene Lovett of District Eight. All gain immunity.
Second Place with Four Votes- Dimity Tallieur of District Three and Minet Nikelle of District Two
Third Place with Three Votes- Rosemarie Alice Patrick of District One, Janos Sheenan of District Seven, Calcite Marion of District Twelve, Calloway Grace of District Three, and Onyx Cartier of District Seven.
Fourth Place with Two Votes- Everest Duncan of District One, Graecus Kwan of District Two, Aurora Hence of District Five, Biahniz Delucan of District Nine, Soner Rowntree of District Ten, Roan Kohl of District Eleven, and Racia Everlast of District Twelve.
Fifth Place with One Vote- Harleen O' Connell of District Four, Cable Summers of District Six, Angevin Roi of District Eight, Colm Miller of District Nine, and Ira Quince of District Eleven.
Sixth Place with No Votes- Harley Fitz of District Five and Celina Kimp of District Ten.
As of now, Mizuko, Naya, and Syrene are definitely making it past the bloodbath due to this poll. Want to hear a secret? *whispers*
I already planned for them to.
Anyway, I hope everyone had a great break and is ready to go back to school/work!
Until next time!