Okay, so I'm trying to shoehorn their signature quotes in, and some fit more gracefully than others. If there's a weird line of dialogue here and there, that would be why.
Warning: Ariel. He kinda got away from me in this one.
Other warning: references to Chapter Twelve, i.e. Luther doing what it is that Luther does. Nothing even remotely explicit in this one, but it does get pretty dark for a second.
Jaiven Cali, District Two, 18
I don't forget to smile and bow at the crowd as I take the stage, but quickly enough that I don't leave Mr. Jolltree hanging when he offers me his hand to shake.
"Jaiven!" he grins. "What a pleasure to have you here."
"The pleasure is all mine, sir."
I take the opportunity to sneak a glance at the other Careers, who won't expect my attention on them right now. No death glares. Nice. I was pretty sure they were all okay with me, but you never know. The only one giving me anything like a dirty look is Woohyun—well, he's smiling, but not in a nice way—but I think that's just how he is. Plus I just talked him into telling me half his life story. He's got that kind of dysfunctional background no one knows what to do with. At least I can make sense of families full of screaming and beatings and that kind of thing, but cold discomfort and passive aggressiveness, everyone quietly crazy in their own way, eating disorders and slowly disintegrating relationships… I'd lose it myself if I had to deal with that.
But he described it casually enough, that crooked smile never leaving his face, like he expected it to bother me more than it did him. Maybe he was right. And still not because he wanted to hurt me in particular. Just because he was bored and felt like it. Then I guess I pushed it a little too far, asking about the thin scar-like mark on his neck, and his face went blank and cold and that was the end of that.
Woohyun catches me looking at him and makes a face at me. Ariel leans around Amaris to make a face at him. Amaris bangs their heads together without missing a beat.
I blink and return my attention to Mr. Jolltree and his violently orange-red hair.
"Now, what inspired you to volunteer?" he asks, folding his hands in front of his chest and looking at me with sincere interest. His nails are four inches long and painted gold.
"I wish I could say something noble, like bringing wealth home or something," I say with a laugh. "But honestly, it just seemed like an amazing experience. The best adventure I could hope for."
Blatant lies. I know what happened to last year's designated volunteer when he lost his nerve and stayed quiet at the Reapings. Better the Games than that.
I mean, there's a kernel of truth in it. The Games do seem like an adventure. And I do want an adventure. Just not this one, not anymore, but it's too late.
"How good do you think your chances are?"
I shrug. "Well, I wouldn't be here if I weren't pretty confident. I've got a good alliance and I intend to play the Games honestly and cleanly."
Jolltree raises an eyebrow. "Has that ever been the path to victory?"
"I think it has. Good karma, if nothing else, right?"
He laughs. "I guess so. Well, good for you, I suppose."
"Thank you."
"But you're not squeamish, I hope? You're playing to win?"
"Of course. Someone unwilling to fight for what they want deserves what they get."
"No second thoughts about volunteering, though? No one waiting at home?"
I've already decided to answer this question honestly, but I hesitate just to play it up, taking a deep breath and playing with the hem of my sleeve.
Jolltree's face lights up. He leans in conspiratorially. "Come on now, don't you want them to know?"
"I… I hope she does know."
"But I'm sure she'd love to hear you say it."
I make a show of considering it. Hopefully I'm blushing as I turn to look straight into the camera. "Tavia Lamont, I love you, I miss you, and I'll come home," I say clearly. For all I know, she's not even watching—I told her not to waste time worrying about me—but that wasn't for her. She does know damn well that I love her; she didn't need to hear it from a TV screen. But potentials sponsors do.
Jolltree grins from ear to ear. "Awww, that is just adorable. I know we're all eager to see how this turns out."
Yeah, me too, I think to myself.
The interview continues in the same vein. I think I do well, coming off as polite and charming. A "good guy", I hope. Far from the usual Career angle, but I'm hoping to find an untapped demographic of people too softhearted to support someone blatantly terrible but also unwilling to get attached to someone who's obviously weak and doomed. At least that had been the plan, until Amelia played pretty much the same strategy right before me. Oh well.
I'm not sure where I stand relative to the Ones, but the applause is solid as I bow again and remove myself from the stage. Okay. I didn't shake things up, but that went well.
Merona's interview goes just as smoothly. She looks beautiful, in a goddess-of-war sort of way, a slim gold dress setting off her pale skin and red hair. She comes off as confident and far more intelligent than I realized she was. Maybe not wise or deep, but certainly shrewd. Let that be a lesson to me, I guess; you can have healthy respect for someone and still underestimate them.
Luka, the Three boy, is… unexpected, especially considering his deer-in-the-headlights Reaping. They've put him in a suit, but he's still got multicolored hair and multiple piercings in each ear. This time he plays the part. The grin on his face is almost manic. He's loud and unrestrained, throwing winks at the audience, constantly moving in his seat, like he's about to start somersaulting across the stage. His training score put him back on my radar, and after this he's there to stay; even if the interview was an act, he's got a lot more passion behind him than I thought.
People don't give that enough credit as a factor, but I think it's the most important thing. Knowing how to fight helps, but wanting to win is everything. It's not the big boys who scare me. It's the ones with that certain spark in their eyes, where I can tell at a glance that if I turn my back on them before their cannon has fired, I can expect a blade in it.
His District partner, on the other hand, surprises exactly no one, electing to stare at the interviewer and mutter one or two words when asked a direct question. When Jolltree asks how in the world she managed a nine in training, she just smiles. There's no humor in it, but a lot of teeth.
Woohyun gets the same question as me—why did he volunteer?—but I know everyone, myself included, is more interested in his answer than mine. They play dumb, but the Capitol knows damn well that my volunteering was supposed to happen. His was a a surprise.
Woohyun shrugs. "I'm as satisfied as I'm likely to be."
"What do you mean by that?"
"It's a perk of being heartless. Chalk it up to teen angst if you like," he says with that same half-smile. "Doesn't bother me."
"You'd describe yourself as heartless, then? Why is that?"
"Telling you now would ruin the suspense. Maybe you'll find out if I make the top eight."
His departure from the stage gets a significant amount of fangirl screaming. Impressive, considering his angle didn't go that way at all.
Amaris hip-swings her way up to the stage, blowing kisses and winking at the wolf-whistles. Her dress barely qualifies as such.
"Another volunteer! Do I even have to ask if you're expecting to win?" Jolltree asks, never breaking eye contact with her cleavage.
"Looks like you do," Amaris laughs. "But it's not even about whether I expect to win. I will win. End of story."
"You're very confident."
"I'm realistic."
"No one at home you'll miss, though?"
Amaris laughs and laughs. "Oh, Jolltree, darling. Everyone worth knowing is right here."
He gasps. "Do you mean to say a beautiful girl like you doesn't even have a boyfriend waiting back home?"
"A boyfriend? From District Four? Don't make me laugh."
A few seats down, Woohyun mutters something indignant.
Jolltree raises a knowing eyebrow. "But you're implying you would date someone…?"
"Well, a Capitol boy, of course," Amaris says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"You'd really deign to grace anyone with your affections after coming back a Victor?" Jolltree jokes. What a question to ask a seventeen-year-old. But I'm not surprised; I know how this goes. It's part of why I got Tavia to agree to let me mention her. I want them hoping to get me back to her, not hoping to get… me.
Amaris, clearly, has no such concerns. "Oh, definitely. After an experience like the Games, I'm sure I'll have some… tension to release," she says breathily, winking at the audience.
The crowd goes wild. Well played. She might've just booted Ariel off the top of the Capitol's To-Do list.
Ariel seems to feel the same way. Off to my right, Woohyun is snickering as Ariel messes up his own hair and undoes his top few buttons, which I guess is his equivalent of suiting up to go to war. Ash and I exchange oh-boy-here-we-go glances.
The crowd gets higher-pitched as some of the men stop cheering and more women start, still with plenty of each. Ariel takes the stage and bows, casually sweeping his suit jacket off and draping it over the back of the chair. Nothing he does is obviously risqué, except somehow it is. How long did he practice in a mirror to work out that exact brand of gracefulness? Because it's definitely on purpose; he doesn't move like that when he doesn't think he's got an audience. What a mindset, to practice that of all things in one's spare time.
Merona glances at me, raising an eyebrow. "You don't like guys, do you?"
"Nope," I say, trying not to sound defensive even though I'm telling the truth.
But she just nods seriously. "Good. So you can tell he's evil, right?"
"Evil? He just seems like an airhead to me."
"Don't buy it. He's smart. And mean."
"Oh."
"So," Mr. Jolltree says, gesturing at Ariel's general existence. "This is a very different look from the Chariots."
It is. He's traded the wireframe atom helmet thing for a blood-red dress shirt and tight-fitting black vest.
"That's true. What do you think of it?" Ariel says agreeably.
"It's very, uh, aggressive."
In the corner of my eye, I see Merona take a deep breath and rub her temples, and I want to do the same. You can't set Ariel up like that, as I quickly learned.
Sure enough, he grins like the Cheshire Cat. "What can I say? I'm versatile. I can do aggressive."
Merona gives me a make it stop look.
Jolltree puts on his thoughtful face. "Was this the same stylist?"
"Oh, no, I had to do away with the last one," Ariel says lightly. Ha ha ha, just kidding, I was assigned a new one, says his smile. But if I could've gotten away with pushing the old one out a window, I would've, say his eyes.
Huh. I kind of see what Merona was talking about. He's a non-volunteer outer-District tribute, but I swear he's genuinely unafraid, even happy, to be here. There's something bloodthirsty about him. Possibly in a raunchy sort of way, but definitely in a dead serious sort of way. Jesus.
"Well… that's the spirit of the Hunger Games, I suppose," Jolltree says, clapping Ariel on the shoulder in a way that somehow involves running a hand across his chest. Classy move as ever by the Capitol elite.
Ariel smiles slyly and scoots closer. "I try. Anything else you want to know, sir? Anything at all? I'm an open book."
"Well, I'll be perfectly honest with you," Jolltree says, winking at the audience. "I think there are a few questions we'd all like answered, but they're not things I can ask you on TV. Not to mention that it would be bad manners."
"Oh, you don't need manners with me, sir." The way he says sir makes my skin crawl. Yes, I said it too, but not like that.
"Has this really never come back to bite you?"
Ariel blinks and I can practically hear the record scratch in his head. "What?"
"I… you know, your… attitude. It's never…? No one…?"
"What are you asking me?" Ariel says slowly. His voice is different. I assume what we're hearing now is what he actually naturally sounds like, when he's not putting on a show.
Jolltree obviously wants to backtrack, but it's too late. "Well, you did say to dispense with manners," he says with an attempt at joviality.
There's not the slightest shred of amusement on Ariel's face. "There's a line."
"Well, I… Can you blame me for asking?" Jolltree blusters. He turns to the crowd for support. "Right?"
The Capitolites cheer. I'm not sure exactly what they're cheering for.
Ariel looks like he's going to be sick, or kill someone, or both. Every hint of his racy persona is gone. "What?" he says helplessly. "What the fuck do you mean?"
He didn't know, I realize. Being from District Four, Amaris would know exactly what the Capitol can be like to tributes who catch their eye in… that particular way, and I guess she decided it was worth it. Maybe she really doesn't care. But Ariel would've had no idea what he was getting himself into; how little control he has here. Maybe I should've warned him, but it didn't occur to me and now it's far too late.
I'm almost surprised he's made it this far without learning the hard way. His "terrible" chariot stylist might've been trying to protect him, with apparent success. All for nothing now. If he even makes it into the Arena safely, his only way out is to die in there.
Jolltree tries to pat his shoulder again. Ariel scrambles out of his chair so fast he almost knocks it over. I get the sense he's mostly just freaked out by Jolltree in particular; he still hasn't figured out the full extent of the trouble he's in.
A few seats down, someone is snickering quietly. I lean forward to see who. Luther, the Five girl. What's she laughing at?
Ariel turns his face away from the crowd for a moment and takes a deep breath. When he looks up again, the mask is back on. "Actually," he purrs, settling back in his chair, "Go ahead. Ask. I bet I've got some… fascinating stories."
Uh, make of that what you will.