Note: legit y'all, I'm flying kinda blind as to what you're interested in reading at this point, so I'm going with my instincts, which is ... historically not always a great idea. If there's a direction you either like or don't like, please don't hesitate to let me know in a review!

x

Training Day 1

x

to have seen them

fall fall fall fly changed some

thing in me, some thing that felt safe, certain,

orderly. Now I must embrace the

soft chaos,

brief moments

of freedom,

trust.

'Soft Chaos', Alma Luz Villanueva

x

Damask Bhatti, District 8

I can't believe we don't have a mentor. Me and Jean, between the two of us, have an escort whose sole utility seems to be making meals really awkward and, beyond her, nothing. It fucking sucks, and I have no idea what I'm doing as we make our way down to the training center via the space-age looking elevator and the long, white, clinically-lit halls.

While I'm walking with Jean, I'm not, like, walking with her to training. Literally all she does is cry and complain - about our chariot outfits, about how rich the food is, about fucking everything. It's obnoxious. I wouldn't ally with someone like her if you paid me. How do you live in District 8 and end up so entitled? How do you make it all the way to the Capitol and not realize that at some point you're gonna have to stop blubbering in the bathroom every time someone makes an off-color comment about how we're maybe a little fucked?

She's not like, the worst, but she also sorta is.

Not like she seems interested in allying with anyone, me or otherwise. Or anyone seems too then with her for that matter, though it's not like we've had much of a chance to get to know the other tributes. Most of the outer districts seem pretty typical - the District 11 pair are thick as thieves, there are a few surly tributes, the woman from 9, the guy from 7, who just seem kinda checked out. I don't know. I'm probably not paying as much attention as I should be.

I keep asking myself, honestly, what am I going for here? I'm just trying to keep it real is all. I know I'm pretty fucked. I know this is going to be shitty. I know I'm gonna halfheartedly try to learn something in training while the volunteers from the trainee districts dance around us in circles doing fancy weapons bullshit to show off how good they're going to kill us.

I dunno. I'm struggling to make sense of things. I want to go home, yeah, but no point being a little bitch about it like Jean. Just gotta keep on keeping on. Put on a good face, pick up a spear or some shit, figure out how to use it. Name of the game.

We're pretty early - District 8 punctuality clearly still a factor. The volunteers haven't shown up yet, and there's just a few tributes milling about, mostly paired off by district, but in the loose way that Jean and I are standing in each others' vicinity but not together. Not much to really catch the eye. The really young guy from District 9 and his beefy partner - who honestly looks enough like a man herself - and the pair from District 11, who keep trading meaningful glances from a bench near the double doors through which we entered the room - are the only duos that seem to actually be getting along.

Typical, I guess. District solidarity really only goes so far, especially if you don't have a fucking mentor to push it.

Minutes tick by and more districts filter in - notably, the twelve year old girl from District 10 enters the room completely alone, which almost surprises me. I'd figure she's have glommed onto the guy from her district like static cling, but like, hats off to him for shedding that dead weight. You can pretty much tell from looking at her that she's completely useless. Maybe keeping her around would add a measure of sponsor appeal, but at the cost of an annoying and slow burden.

Besides, the problem with district allies where one is some charming young thing and the other actually has a fighting chance is that, even with the extra sponsor help, the dead weight tends to slow the competent one down just enough to get them taken out by the Careers or some mutt - and yeah, they get to die nobly and maybe get a few good-guy points for biting the bullet and doing the 'right thing' but they still don't win. They still die.

It's a losing proposition, ultimately - like, looking at the track record of district kids who win, you either make a strong alliance and run or just like, run. The 'morality pet' angle that some people try to play hasn't yet produced a victor.

I guess I should be on the lookout for a strong ally, but at the same time, I'm not gonna get my hopes up. I'm not going to be someone's pet project - I'm not young and cute enough for that, and I have my pride, anyway.

Finally, some action lights up as the Careers - paired off, of course, but much louder than any of the outer-district couples who've deigned to show up for training - walk in.

"Are we late?" the girl from District 1 is asking, apparently directing the question to her partner, but talking loud enough that we can all hear her, especially in the silent room.

He shakes his head by way of reply, his stony expression not changing even slightly.

"Damn, well, guess the party starts when we walk in," she says - more announces, honestly, because he's clearly not engaging with her on a conversational level, and her voice really fills the quiet room.

The guy is too busy inspecting the room, scowling when anyone meets his gaze, to join her in the exercise. He's clearly not a guy to be fucked with, that much is obvious. Interesting, though, that he's from District 1 - in skin tone and in the shape of his face, he could almost be, like, my cousin. Despite the fact that he's about twice my size. Big, but not like, one of those bull-necked tributes you sometimes see from District 2. He has kind of a quiet, terrifying charisma thing going on.

Mystery how he ended up paired off with a loud-mouth like his partner, but she seems to be the only one in the room he's not actively glaring at - and he follows where she leads. Bizarre.

The pair from District 4 are similarly mismatched, the guy looking around, making occasional exclamations of enthusiasm, while his partner, a brooding and muscular woman, mostly ignores both him and everyone else. There's not the same strange synchronization in movements and intentions that the pair from District 1 are displaying, which is a little odd. Then you've got District 2, hanging back on the outskirts so I can barely get a good look at what they're doing - they still seem more comfortable in this environment than any of the outer district tributes.

As I'm wondering when we're gonna get started already, the head instructor for the Capitol's training center - who our escort, back at our quarters, called 'Octavion' - finally shows up. He's a commanding presence, a big guy with a full beard and just a little salt-and-peppering at his temples. I'm a little relieved to see we actually have someone who looks the part in charge of this part of the process.

He ushers in a few other instructors, who he introduces as the individuals who will be assisting at the stations scattered throughout the center - and makes a few dire warnings about harming other tributes and the consequences for 'getting ahead of ourselves'.

"Save it for the Games," he says grimly, "or you may not make it to them. Understood?"

The assembled tributes - including, I am relieved to observe, the Careers - nod assent.

"Good. Off you go, now. There's a lot to learn and not much time to learn it."

Don't I know it. Squaring my shoulders, as the other tributes around me begin to move towards various stations, I set my course for the knife work station. I'm going to focus on a simple weapon - can't be too risky - and hopefully pay attention to what everyone else is doing to figure out my next move. What else is there to do?

Maybe there will be an ally in this for me. Maybe not. Either way, I'm already starting to feel crushed under the anticipation of the next few days of this - in this windowless training center, surrounded by such confusing and obnoxious people.

I wish I had a plan, but I just don't. And it sucks.

But like, what else did I expect?

x

Angel Lozada, District 4

"So, okay, weird question-" I begin, as, after a morning of picking around at the knot-tying and swordplay stations as a pair, Renata and I join the two tributes from District 1 for lunch at what has already informally become the trainee table "-Jewel. Any chance you're related to the Jewel from like four years back?"

"Hm? Tall blonde girl?" she asks, shifting her attention to me immediately, setting down her silverware.

"Yeah, that's most of you all in One."

"Does she look like she's related to her?" her district partner, Manari, asks, shooting me a withering look.

Jewel brushes the moment of tension away with her hand. "No, he's right. Angel, yeah? Are there many people in your district named Angel?"

"Uh, a few," I say, shrugging. "It's not uncommon on the coast."

"What's a common one?"

"I know like five Ursulas, for some reason."

"Well, Jewel is a common name. Like Ursula. Even if there's like, no Jewels where you're from, we've got a fuckton. I had to be 'Jewel L.' all through grade school, and again in training. Fucking 'Jewel L.', sounds like I can't pronounce my own name."

I laugh - a little bit politely, a little bit because the animation with which she tells the story is actually kind of amusing. She grins in response.

"Anyway, not related. Her name was Jewel Goldberg and she was about a foot taller than me. Also, like, blonde and shit, which I'm not. If it's gonna be hard to differentiate us in your mind, I can be 'short Jewel', 'loud Jewel', or 'brunette Jewel'. Kinda done with 'Jewel L.'."

"Not a problem, just curious," I say, a little embarrassed but grateful that she doesn't seem offended. District 1 naming customs are weird.

"Did you all have a good evening after the chariots?" she asks, completely dismissing the previous topic.

"Yeah, our mentor is kind of an asshole though. Literally spent the rest of the night listening to him complain about how he'd wanted to get y'all's stylists. Which is weird, because I thought our outfits were great - I mean, you looked amazing, of course, but some of that's just because you look amazing. Like, you can't fake that with styling. Really good, like, you stole the show."

I realize that I am babbling and can't seem to stop. "And, uh, your partner, too."

"For fuck's sake," Renata hisses, "cállate."

"What?" Jewel asks, squinting her eyes just a little bit - inquisitive vibes, not aggressive.

"Shut up," Renata translates, shooting me a murderous look.

"Sorry, me?" Jewel clarifies.

"No, este tonto," Renata tells her, canting her forehead to indicate me.

I smile. "Yes, this idiot! You should talk, I'll be quiet."

"The two of you speak another language!" Jewel announces, sounding delighted. I know Renata well enough to catch the barely-noticeable eye-roll, but either it was only visible because I was looking for it or Jewel is ignoring her obvious disdain.

"Yeah, we do," I tell her.

"That's pretty cool," she says. "Like a built-in code!"

It feels amazing when Jewel pays attention to you - I don't know how Renata seems to be immune. Like, you can tell that even her district partner isn't completely unaffected by how magnetic she is. Something about words of praise or affirmation is just 50 times better when she's saying it.

Like, I don't think it's just because she's hot, either - if you look at her really close, she has a nice enough face, but not the kind you'd write home about, and a good body, but not like… special, especially for a District 1 girl. Built kinda short and stocky, thick-muscled without much grace. Dark-skinned enough to be a girl from the coast, but hazel-eyed and curly-haired. Nothing you'd think twice about if she wasn't practically glowing from the inside.

She's moved on to shining that spotlight of absolute attention to Renata - complimenting her name, asking about the train ride and our mentors and stylists, responding as though she's the most fascinating person she's ever met.

Renata just doesn't buy it.

"What's the food like in District Four?" Jewel is asking, gesturing at the bread basket in the middle of the table. "I love these seaweed-type loaves."

"Mostly what you can catch," Renata says, voice comparatively flat and disinterested. "Fish, shellfish. Rice is cheap so lots of that."

"Does Capitol seafood stack up, so far? I'd figure it would be better fresh, right?"

"Haven't had it since I got on the train, wouldn't know."

Jewel narrows her eyes almost imperceptibly as Renata looks down to take a bite of potatoes - she seems to sense me noticing and shoots me a conspiratory glance, like, 'you seeing this?' And I am. I wish Renata would engage more - I know we're basically guaranteed an alliance with Districts 1 and 2, but there's no harm in actually trying to get along with them.

"Is Two coming?" the District 1 guy asks, clearly only talking to Jewel.

I bet he and Renata would get along, if Renata would swallow her pride for twenty seconds and try to engage.

"We can invite them over," Jewel suggests. "Looks like the two of them are busy at spear-throwing. Wanna come with me?"

Her partner shrugs wordlessly, but stands and follows her to the station where the pair from Two are - well, not actually throwing spears. Just talking, by the looks of things.

"No entiendo su erección para esta piruja," Renata spits, the second Jewel is out of earshot.

"No deberías decir eso!" I complain. "Come on, Renata, these are our people!"

"These are not our people. You're being manipulated."

"Yeah, I know, I know, she's fake as shit, but let me enjoy myself, okay? And don't call her a slut."

"Voy a llamar ella como la veo."

"Suit yourself, I like her," I say, and Renata rolls her eyes - this time there's no mistaking it. "What, you think she'll backstab us?"

"No, not right away or anything. I don't hate her - look, I know I'm being kind of a bitch, I don't want to make this harder than it is, I'm just not comfortable with them, okay?"

"It's okay," I tell her. "Let's just try, okay? This alliance has potential, you know it does. These are the people to watch out for this year. We don't have to stay past final ten if you don't want to."

She sighs.

"I'm not getting an untrustworthy impression, this just isn't the kind of people I'd like to be spending time with."

"That's your call," I say. "Jewel's exactly the kind of person I like spending time with, fake or not."

"Pinche tonto," she says, but she gives me at least a half-smile along with her eyeroll.

I understand her discomfort. Manari and Jewel give off inlander vibes in spades - the way they sit, the way they eat, it all says 'I expect this level of respect, I expect treatment as an important person, I expect you to pay attention to me and what I say and want' - and it can get grating and obnoxious when that hasn't always been your experience, as it hasn't for me and Renata. Neither of us is totally comfortable in our swanky Capitol digs, being catered to left and right.

I'm willing to enjoy the ride, but Renata clearly isn't. And like, I get it. I just think it's worth getting what we can out of the experience rather than renouncing it as some sort of indignity to our upbringing. She's allowed to disagree.

"Look who we brought!" Jewel announces, returning to the table, followed by the pair from District 2, her partner flanking her silently. "Cora, Marcus, it's good to have you."

We've talked to them before - the previous night during the chariot prep, we all exchanged words. I hadn't realized it, but I'd completely forgotten both of the District 2 tributes' names. They look a lot less intimidating out of their chariot gear, but you can never be sure with District 2.

The guy - Marcus - is just as gorgeous as he was on a television screen. I probably have about an inch of height on him, but there's something really intimidating about his gaze, the quiet way he seems to be drinking in information from the world around him without actually having to engage with it. Well-styled dark hair, a yellow-brown sort of complexion that inland people are always trying to achieve by baking themselves under the sun, but just a little olive-y rather than orange so you can tell it's natural. He smiles when he meets my eyes, and damn is it a smile. Cabrone is pulling heartstrings I barely knew I had.

"You're Angel, right?" he says, his tone of voice soft and unassuming.

"Yeah," I say, running my hand through my hair, wondering how it looks, laughing a little uneasily.

"We didn't mean to make you all wait," he adds apologetically, almost imperceptibly nudging the girl next to him as though to induce her to apologize as well.

Cora is only a little shorter than he is, though she couldn't be more different-colored if she tried. Her hair is a sort of messy and thin golden blonde, and she's pale as a ghost, like we're talking blue undertones, a strange sort of hollow look to her face. She's got huge brown eyes and full lips and fine bone structure that should say 'beautiful'. Except in this context they come off weird, like there's something not quite right. Something about her eyebrows, which are a little patchy now that she's not fully made up. Same with the figure, like, girl has some serious boob action going on, but you can see blue veins a little too clearly under the nearly-translucent skin stretched over her figure.

Maybe someone's cup of tea, but not mine.

"Got distracted," she says. "Spears, y'know how it is."

She glances at Marcus like she's trying to make sure she said the right thing - I don't quite catch the expression he makes in response, too busy watching her shiver, even though it's not that cold.

"We've all been there," Jewel says to Cora, smiling warmly - Cora smiles back. "So, do we all feel good about this? The time to put our cards on the table is now."

"It seems like a solid alliance," I say quickly, not especially caring how eager I sound to agree with Jewel.

"No one wants to drag in anyone else?" Jewel clarifies. "No one's uncomfortable signing off on sticking together to the final twelve, ten, depending on how things go?"

"We're glad to be involved," Marcus says, and Cora nods.

"Not sure who else we would want," Renata adds.

"Well, I've been keeping my eye on the competition," Jewel clarifies. "I don't think we should make any moves - I like the traditional alliance - but that said, there are some people we should watch."

"The pair from District Three?" I suggest.

"Exactly," Jewel agrees, beaming at me. "They're top of the list. Has anyone learned anything about them?"

"The guy is pretty big," Renata suggests. "Not training-big, but like… he's got a few days to learn how to use weapons and fuck us up."

I'm picking up on her comfort level increasing as the conversation turns away from the realm of the personal and more towards tactics and the Games themselves. Renata has never really enjoyed talking about herself - I probably knew her the least out of anyone at the Center, not because she wasn't present, but because she was so private. Always preferred to stick with a few other friends from the coast and keep to herself.

When it comes to strategy, though, she's suddenly engaged - not in the bubbly, animated way that Jewel is, somehow, when planning a series of murders, but in an interested and businesslike sort of participation.

"The girl is tough, too, and it looks like they're staying together," Marcus adds. "Take a look."

I follow his line of sight to a table near the back, where the pair from District 3 are eating at the same table, apparently exchanging words.

"Anything else?" Jewel asks probingly. "Do we know their names, what weapons they've been using?"

"The guy is Dion," Renata volunteers.

I give her a surprised glance - I hadn't been aware that she had been paying attention to anyone beyond the trainee districts. It's easy to forget that she's listening when she's so quiet.

"The girl is Bridge-something. Bridger. Bridge. One of those," I add, apparently not as good as Renata is at remembering names. "She and the partner - Dion, the big one - were arguing about like… politics or something in the chariot in front of us last night. I think she's a little younger than he is."

I can pay attention too.

Jewel smiles at me. "Excellent! Wow, thank god we've got you guys."

I smile back. Renata is back to rolling her eyes at me, but a little less angrily and a little more in affectionate exasperation.

"The guy from Ten freaks me out," I volunteer, prodding the conversation to continue.

He's not exactly huge, but he's well-built enough, doesn't have any traditional outer district markers of hunger growing up, and he stares unapologetically - a lot, I've begun to notice, at Jewel. He's making friends as well - with a smaller boy from District 8, who seems to look up to him a lot. Everyone else seems a little creeped out by him, including his district partner, who has distanced herself from him substantially.

"Is he the stare-y one?" Jewel asks with a laugh. "I get it. Guy has no concept of personal space, kept getting a bit too close to my ass in the elevator."

"I don't like him," Manari says. "I know men like that."

"Do you now," I say, surprised to hear him speak - come to think of it, Cora has also been suspiciously silent throughout the discussion.

He exhales sharply through his nose, sort of a dismissive huff, and resumes eating.

"I agree," Marcus adds, jumping in to fill the silence. "Alliance-building in non-trainee districts is unsettling. We've got the pair from Three, the Eight guy and the Ten guy - anyone else?"

"Districts Six and Seven seemed friendly during the chariots," Renata suggests. "Not sure about all of them, though - I've only seen the two girls around together."

"The Seven girl is pretty twiggy," I say dismissively.

"Twiggy means fast, sometimes. If she runs, it'll be hard catching up with her," Renata argues.

"I agree," Jewel says, beaming her spotlight-smile on Renata, who almost smiles back - then catches herself. "Especially with an ally - if it's an interesting relationship, we can't count on the Gamemakers to take her out when she gets boring hiding in the trees."

"That is what the Sevens are good at," I concede. "The Seven boy is someone to take out early - he looks strong, one of those Sevens who can handle an axe."

"Then he should be the first we go for - beat him to the weapons, get him out of the running before he gets his hands on something good," Marcus suggests.

"Doesn't seem to be making friends," Renata says, nodding her head in the direction of the District 7 guy, who is sitting alone at a table, looking very surly.

"Then we won't have to worry about vengeful-type allies," I respond with a shrug.

"There are some from the outer districts together - the pair from Eleven," Jewel suggests, looking around as if to prompt further discussion.

"Both are kinda soft around the edges," I say, skeptical. They don't exactly look like the kind of pair that'll present any long term challenge - both fairly tall, but with no apparent musculature. The girl has been pretty active - working over the instructor at the knife work station - while her partner is mostly hanging to the side.

"Okay, so not our first targets," Jewel agrees.

She pauses, apparently just noticing that Cora is not participating at all and appears to be tapping two pieces of silverware together with increasingly rapid metal clicking noises.

"You alright, Cora?" she asks hesitantly, seemingly not sure whether her usual affect will be effective in this context or whether she ought to soften her tone to match more, say, Marcus'.

"Oh!" Cora says suddenly. "Sorry. I don't like sitting. I'm not hungry. Sorry."

Marcus nudges her - again, almost imperceptibly, and her face changes a little. "I'm down for the plan, whatever the plan is."

Renata and Jewel nod a little dubiously. I can feel myself doing the same thing.

"I have… also noticed things," she announces, looking a little awkward as she realizes that she is the center of attention. "The guy from District Seven is sick. We were talking about him, yeah?"

"What do you mean?" Marcus asks - taking her seriously, I notice, a lot more quickly than anyone else at the table.

"Well, I've been watching him. He's sweating. It's not hot here," she explains, talking more to Marcus than the rest of us.

We turn a little too quickly to look at him again, and he notices our attention, slams down his spoon, and stalks haltingly out of the room, to the corridor where the restrooms are located. But not before we can see the sheen of perspiration on his face.

"Real subtle, you guys," Jewel sighs.

"It's true, though, you saw!" Cora says insistently, her voice ticking up in pitch slightly.

"What does it tell you?" Marcus asks her, leveling his eyes with hers - she takes a deep breath, and her face changes again.

"I think he's in withdrawal from something," she says evenly. "He'll move very fast during the bloodbath. Probably not the way we would expect, more erratic."

"More or less dangerous?" Jewel asks, looking intrigued.

"Depends. Looking at how bad off he is, he's got a shot at dying on his own without… whatever his thing is… in the arena. But in the mean time, he'll be very unpredictable. Likely to come after us on his own. Dangerous-ly reckless. For everyone else and him."

"And… you know this because…" I say slowly, trailing off and raising an eyebrow.

"Medicine!" she says. "I'm good at medicine… things. Health. Care. First aid?"

Manari looks just as skeptical as I feel - which is a new emotional range for him, in a long line of scowls of varying depth.

"That's actually a great segue," Jewel interrupts - Cora gives her a wide-eyed look of gratitude that she definitely doesn't miss. "Any special skills, you guys?"

"Renata and I could probably catch our own food, if there's water," I volunteer.

Renata snorts. "Angel has an exaggeration problem. That's assuming a lot of luck."

"I can play piano," Marcus deadpans, and Jewel and I both lose it.

"Oh god," Jewel says, wiping a tear out of her eye, smudging her makeup a little. "Of course you fucking can."

"So we're all pretty hopeless without like, supplies," I suggest.

"Yeah. Pretty hopeless," Renata says, shrugging.

"Then I guess we better win the bloodbath!" Jewel concludes with a cheshire-cat grin.

Manari stands wordlessly and steps away from the table, abandoning his empty plate. "Great plan, you're all very smart," he says, his tone entirely flat and devoid of affect. "We should actually do something, now."

"Anyone up for archery?" Marcus asks mildly.

"Lead the way," I say - and I can't help but wear a smile just as wide as Jewel's.

This is going to be a good year for the trainees. A weird year, maybe - but a good one.

x

Unless training is something that's really interesting for y'all to read, I think I'm just gonna do some snapshots from the few days the tributes have at this phase and then try to power through some interviews. I'm mostly writing for my own whims at this point, but if y'all have whims, I'm ... forreal interested.