Train Rides

Jet Leather, 13

District Ten Male

Jet Leather tapped his foot on the train board as he stared out of the window, green fields and forests passing by, and he saw animals on some fields, bulls ploughing the land. The bulls reminded him of his cows back home, and he felt himself becoming somewhat angry again.

"*** this," he muttered, not raising his voice at all lest Kaila would hear him. He was not afraid of her, he was afraid of few things, but Kaila was a woman of high talent in annoying people. Jet was already not looking forward to sessions with her, as she was their mentor and escort, and she appeared to have absolutely no idea as to how things should happen. Well, he was not planning on wasting his time on someone like Kaila; if she intended on being irritating throughout this ordeal, Jet planned on carving out a solution on his own.

He folded his arms across his chest, frowning in a childish manner, making a decision that was going to be hard. He was not going to ask Kaila for help, no matter what, because she had no business Reaping him. There were so many other people out there who could have been chosen! It was the prospect of an almost certain death that made him clench his jaws rather forcefully, the bulls not mattering to him anymore. They were just a blur now, a reflection of what he could be doing were he not here, and that was enraging Jet. The Reapings had been abolished! There was no reason to bring them back! Sadness clenched at Jet's heart, but he refused to cry. Jet never cried, however bad the situation. He became grumpy, shouted obscenities, fought even, but never cried, and he was not going to change that this time as well. He was upset, feeling the impending doom weighing down on his shoulders, on his young heart, on his childish mind, and he cracked his knuckles in frustration. He felt like breaking something, anything, especially Kaila's bones, but the woman in question wasn't present there, retiring herself to her own room. Unlike the Capitol escorts, she did not even pretend to care. She had simply asked whether they wanted to discuss strategy, and when neither he nor Avni had replied, she had gone on and on about how likely they were to die, how they deserved it, and how being arrogant was not going to take them anywhere. Then, she had left.

If being shocked about being sent to a deathmatch was being arrogant, then Jet was going to remain arrogant. He was not interested in initiating a conversation with that irritating woman. She was not worthy of any attention as far as he was concerned. However, all his frustration and anger and annoyance had not killed off his hunger. Jet felt as if needed to eat right away, eat anything. His family was poor, and even after he had dropped out of school, things were hard. He had a measly breakfast that day, and it was almost five in the evening now. his stomach was growling louder than his thoughts had, and he sighed. Probably he should go and find a kitchen. He had not seen any servant, Avox or otherwise. Come to think of it, he had not seen any kind of snacks or such on the train. Perhaps it was all stacked away. He had heard stories that tribute trains were loaded with all kinds of delicacy, but there was nothing that he could see.

Sighing, he got up from his seat, put on is hole-laden shoes again, and started walking towards the door of the train compartment. The door slid open and he stepped into Avni's car, where he stopped at the sight in front of him.

His District Partner had volunteered, something that was unthinkable, and yet there she sat on her own chair by the window, sobbing quietly. Jet paused at the barely audible sound and frowned at the figure. He thought about letting her do what she wanted to do, which seemed to be crying at the moment, as that would avoid any conversation. Jet didn't particularly dislike people, but he was not interested in communicating much, especially not with strangers. People did things that were stupid or annoying, talked about things that were stupid or annoying, were interested in things that were stupid or annoying. Jet did not know how to go about handling such people.

But here she was, a girl that was four years older than himself, a girl who had volunteered, crying to herself, away from everyone. He did not like that such a big girl was crying, and his steps automatically changed their tracks, and he was soon standing beside her. She seemed to sense his presence, and she looked up hastily, startled, eyes wide. She relaxed a bit when she saw it was just him, and furiously wiped away the tears that were on her cheeks.

"Hey Jet."

"You shouldn't cry."

"What?"

"You're so old. You volunteered. You should not cry."

Avni looked back at Jet with soft eyes, as if he could not understand where she was coming from, and probably she was right. Jet could not pretend that he knew everything, but he was at least tough about the whole thing, and not a weeping mess like her.

"You need to toughen up. Crying gets people nowhere. You've put yourself in this situation. You need to be strong and stop crying."

He immediately regretted saying that though, for Avni's eyes welled up again. he had no intention to hurt her, he just wanted to help her act tough for her own good. The boy did not know what to do, he was not particularly good with handling emotions, especially emotions of big girls, and he was about to excuse himself when Avni stood up. he was shocked, taken aback, when she wrapped her arms around him.

Jet was not used to being hugged.

It wasn't tight, it wasn't long, it was quick and innocent, and he was even more surprised to see that Avni had wiped her tears away again and was smiling now.

"Thank you Jet," she said, and Jet just noticed that her way of speaking was different, unlike any that he had ever heard. It wasn't like the Capitolites, it wasn't even like Kaila. He had never heard anyone speak in such an accent before, such a strong accent.

"I will keep that in mind and I will toughen up."

Jet simply nodded, stepping back just a bit so that she wouldn't get emotional and hug him again. it wasn't that he had a grudge against her for that, but it was just weird, and Avni seemed to get it too, for she quickly apologised for it. He nodded again, and turned to walk away. What had he been looking for in the first place?

"Hungry, Jet?"

He nodded again as she joined him.

"Come on, let's find the kitchen."

Belladonna "Bell" Betony, 18

District Eleven Female

Bell was, in simple terms, upset.

If a more detailed description was sought, however, Bell could say that she was upset beyond belief, that her heart was aching, yelling at her for being this useless, this idiot, this good-for-nothing person. Her heart that told her that she deserved to be Reaped but not die, that she deserved to win this cruel yet prized trophy, that she would never have the courage to volunteer and make a name for herself. There were other ways to become famous and important, but her heart, her heart that hurt so much, firmly believed that a fight in a deathmatch was the best among them. One could say that her mind had convinced her heart to feel that way now that she was heading for this deathmatch already, and she laughed out. She laughed aloud, her high-pitched voice ringing in the otherwise silent compartment. She cried too, her tear-ducts extra active in this moment of grief and mourning and relief and everything else she felt, feelings she wasn't quite aware of. So yes, Belladonna was acting like her talented self, multitasking by crying and laughing at the same time, holding her head rather dramatically.

However, inside her heart, her heart that was torturing her with feelings, she knew she was the most upset because none of her friends visited her after she was Reaped. Not. A. Single. One. She should have had known, known all along, that they were not her real friends. Now that she thought about them, they barely ever talked to her. They talked to literally anyone and everyone but her, and this thought made her sob again, before making her chuckle. So what if her friends did not show up? so what if they did not care? So what if everyone seemed to have given up on her? She had not given up on herself. She was going to fight for herself. She was going to make herself proud.

"Belladonna, you aren't eating."

Bell was snapped out of her thoughts. She was on the train, the very elaborate train that still lacked in glory, sitting at a table, a bowl of porridge resting in front of her. She recoiled at the scene. And then she recalled that it was the porridge that had reminded her of her breakfast, which had been porridge, and that had led her down this lane of feelings and heart ache.

On the train to the Capitol… she had expected better food. She had heard stories about how lavish the food was on the train, how delicious, but what she had received was a bowl of porridge. She clenched her teeth in frustration; even the Capitol was discriminating against her.

"I want roasted chicken."

"We don't have that."

"Chicken curry."

"No."

"Pancakes."

"Belladonna," their escort, Esther said firmly in her strange, foreign accent, "This porridge is all there is. It's up to you whether you want to eat it."

Bell stared at her with wide eyes, mouth agape. She dared to talk to her this way?! How could she?! She was not going to settle for the lesser things! Lesser love, lesser friends and now lesser food. Surprising even herself, Belladonna flipped the bowl over, the food falling down on the table, slowly dripping off the edge onto the blue velvet carpet.

"Belladonna!" Esther exclaimed angrily, jumping on her feet, even as Bell did the same, glaring hard. What was she going to do, eh? Start the Hunger Games on the train itself? Well, Belladonna Betony was not going to tolerate this kind of behaviour any longer. As Esther opened her mouth to yell at her further, Bell picked up the empty bowl and threw it at her angrily, narrowly missing, and the bowl shattered as it fell on the floor with a shattering sound, tearing the silence apart like a worn out cloth.

Ester stared at her in shock even as Bell folded her arms across her chest, the tears having dried on her cheeks, and the remnants of them stinging at her eyes. She was not going to back down under the murderous look that Esther gave her. She was not going to buckle under the fear of these 'Five', whoever they were. She was not going to be treated like trash. Even as Esther continued to glare, Bell rested her hand on the table in rage. Would she still glare if Bell flipped the table on her and 'accidentally' injured her? She smirked as the thought crossed her mind. It was so tempting, and Bell so wanted to have a laugh right now, after the traumatic event of being Reaped. She tightened her grip on the edge of the table as the two females continued their glaring match. Should she throw it now? Should she throw it at all?

Just as she was about to flip the table in the hopes that the remaining wo bowls of porridge would empty their contents on this petty woman who called herself their escort, a firm hand grasped her wrist and pulled it away rather forcefully from the table. Bell was shocked at this treatment, and she just stared with her mouth wide open, and Basileus Paladino pushed her so hard that she stumbled backwards, slipped on her own steps, and fell down thankfully on a couch and not the floor.

"What on earth?!" she cried out as he stepped towards her.

"I've had enough of your drama and your pettiness, Betony," he growled at her, his own eyes ignited by the flames of rage he felt, "Better behave yourself."

"Excuse me?!" Bell exclaimed, "I'm dramatic and petty? You volunteered to a death match! You caused all that drama to get some limelight! And you call me dramatic and petty! Hypocrite!"

"SILENCE!"

"YOU SHUT UP!"

And Bell was on her feet again, stomping over to Basileus Paladino, inches away from him. who did he think he was, pushing her around so literally?! Why was he getting in her matter?! Why couldn't he just get lost?!

"Don't annoy me Betony. Eat what you're given and stop complaining."

"Who are you? Their dog?"

Basileus pushed her again rather hard, so hard that she fell on her backside on the floor, grazing her palm in the process somehow. Belladonna looked up furiously as Esther intervened, trying to calm down Basileus, telling him 'this girl is not worth it.' and pulling him away from Bell. The girl from Eleven watched in rage, her chest heaving as her breathing became ragged, eyes wide in anger and she screamed as they left her there.

"I'LL GET YOU PALADINO! I'LL KILL YOU IN THE ARENA EVEN IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!"

Cruxia Marshall, 18

District Four Female

Cruxia found the situation on the train to be quite…distasteful.

She had heard tales of grandeur and beauty, of the Capitol's hospitality and helpful nature, but she was right in her initial thoughts about the Games not being as great as the ones under the Capitol. Firstly, they had no mentors. Secondly, the escort was useless. He had no idea how the whole thing worked, and no interest in trying to help. As for the servants that were supposed to wait on them the whole time… they were absent. There were Peacekeepers around to see that nobody fled, and Cruxia didn't see why they were needed on a District Four train, but maybe the Five expected trouble. Considering this whole competition was a prestigious event, a matter of great pride, Cruxia was not particularly happy with how the Five and their foreign lapdogs were handling the affairs of Panem's culture and traditions.

She sighed slowly, lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling of her four-poster bed. At least the bed was comfortable and she could allow herself to relax just a bit. She pulled the sheets over her absently, thinking about her life back home. Everyone would be cheering there, waiting for them to arrive in the Capitol, waiting for the chariot rides. However, Cruxia was not sure whether there would be any parade after all. The whole event was so dry that she couldn't help but think they would remove another part of the Games tradition. Why were they doing it in the first place if they did not wish to do it properly? Cruxia did not know and she did not think anybody could truly answer her question. She was glad that she had a chance to be competing in the Games, to earn honour for her District and for herself, but she wished things would have been the way they were earlier. The whole thing was done so dully this year that Cruxia couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

And this disappointment led to the emotion she was all too familiar with- anger. Her fists curled around the sheets as she stared at the ceiling. Why did these people have to mess with tradition when they did not know how to handle it?! She was angry not because they had wronged her, but because she felt as if they had wronged all the Career districts. She felt as if they were incapable, and this incapability would in turn lower the honour of anyone who won these Games, that they wouldn't be at par with the previous victors. She felt betrayed, although she could not really explain why, and she gritted her teeth. She knew she should not get angry, being angry would get her nowhere, but she could not help it at all. Back when acquaintances did not greet her in return, she became angry. When people did not respond on time, she became angry. Anything happening as it shouldn't happen made her angry. Cruxia never really showed her anger, for she knew that sometimes she was being unreasonable, and sometimes it just wasn't worth it. she liked being positive, because positivity could help people get far, but it was hard to do.

And now she was angry again, angry at the way things were conducted, not being up to mark to the Career standards, even further from the Capitol standards. She was not a fan of the Capitol, instead she found them ignorant, but they knew how to do things well.

The Games were Games only under the Capitol.

She let out a frustrated groan and sat up. Now that she was angry, she could not force herself to go to sleep in any way. She stood up rather hastily, and started pacing the floor, thinking of the Academy. She kind of missed training at this point, for training would not only calm her down but also help her improve, and she was of firm belief that everyone should continuously strive to improve themselves. The thought made her stop as a question crawled into her mind. What if the training centre in the Capitol was not equipped enough, not adequate enough? What if the trainers were not capable enough? That would not do at all, not at all… Looking at how the Five were performing up till now, she had very low expectations. Cruxia was not even expecting a facility as good as the one back home in all honesty, and that made her even more frustrated.

So she walked and walked and walked in that tiny room that was hers, all hers, the only place that looked as if it had retained its former glory. She wondered whether there was a training facility on the train, but decided that was too far-fetched. And thus, without even realising it, she started spot jogging, stretching, doing anything to make her body feel active. She was exercising hard now, sweat dripping off her face and limbs and chest, and she felt better. She continued working out, glad that she'd not had supper yet, when there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said, stopping and looking up with a smile, at Nereus Naga. He took one look at her and realised what she was doing, and smiled back at her.

"Missing training already?"

"Kind of," she shrugged, "How about you?"

"Things… are a little different from what I had heard."

"Yeah. I wish they were how they were supposed to be."

"Exactly."

Cruxia politely invited Nereus in for it was rude to keep someone waiting at the doorway for long. However, he was not really there to talk to her.

"Well, dinner's ready and we're requested there."

"Oh alright. Coming right away."

"I'll wait for you," Nereus said, "I kind of don't want to go there. His presence is rather off-putting."

"That is quite true," Cruxia sighed, glad that he agreed with her. She was right; she wasn't the only one disappointed.

"Well then, I'll just come in a bit."

"Sure."

And Cruxia shut the door lightly, walking into her bathroom to wash herself before dinner. She was kind of hungry right now, and she hoped that dinner would be better than lunch. The lunch had been insufficient for her trained body, and she hoped things would be better at least for supper.

Well, she wasn't hopeful.

That's the first train rides! It was supposed to have four POVs but I'll stick to three for this chapter. Let me know what you think, I hope you enjoyed it.

Also, submissions for Sinners and Saints is open, so I hope to see you there!

Have a great day!