Chapter Twenty-Three.
Training Day Three, Part Two.
Nikos Rioux, 18 years old;
District Three Male.
It was the final lunch-time of training and Nikos found himself sat alone.
Two days ago, on the first day of training, it hadn't been so glaringly obvious that he was by himself. Most tributes hadn't yet found an alliance. The Careers dominated the central table as a collective unit, as ever annoying in their cocky bravado, whilst the rest of the tributes found their own seats to solemnly eat their lunch.
As Nikos bit into his sandwich, on the table in the far left, he realised he was perhaps the only person he could see that had no one to talk to. It made him feel something that he didn't like. Something that subdued the anger and left him feeling … sad.
He hadn't gone out of his way to ignore the other tributes. But in Nikos' mind, the best way of making it far in the Games wasn't the people that could bog him down and hold him back, but the things he could actually learn. He'd spent ages going over the smaller, less violent stations, and as quickly as he'd accumulated that knowledge, he'd focused on actually becoming more of a physical threat than he currently was.
Something about the way he'd lost himself to letting out all his inward anger at the position he'd put himself in, and the way the other tributes continued to find themselves together, and the bitch from Ten, and just everything – it made him feel shitty.
He blamed himself. He wanted to restart the whole three days.
You don't need them, Nikos. He tore another chunk of salami from his sandwich and swallowed it down, forcing the cool drink next to him past his lips. You're a volunteer. Surely that means something from the Capitol's viewpoint?
Until the conversation with his mentor, he hadn't actually considered the fact that because of his status as a volunteer, it had immediately drawn the attention of the Capitol. He was a favourite in these Games from a betting viewpoint. The part of him that loathed the Capitol dismissed that status. The part of him that wanted to survive and make a better life for himself from the ashes of the chaos embraced his new spotlight.
From the table nearest to Nikos, he could see Albie and her two allies. He'd seen her with the girl from Eight – Armina – the other day. The large lad, Shual from Ten, he was a new addition. Something about him seemed competent. Albie herself was definitely capable. He didn't really want to see his District partner as a threat. She actually had his respect – although he'd never say that – and it didn't mean he wanted her to die.
She would, though. And if he had to be the one to do it, then so be it.
"Afternoon," he looked up at the voice. A horrid, snide little grin from Carys struck him right in the face and his lips curled. "Enjoying your lunch?"
"Carys – c'mon," the boy from Eight – Castor – called from a few steps ahead.
Carys waved at him. "See you around."
Nikos felt his fists clench. He'd heard Shual earlier tell her to calm down – to not rise to the bait. Nikos knew people like her well enough that suddenly becoming something you weren't wasn't as easy as others liked to make it sound. Nikos knew Carys because Nikos saw himself in her. And for that he disliked her even more.
If he was going to calm himself down, he needed distraction. As lunch was still ongoing, Nikos scanned the room and spotted on one of the middle tables, furthest right, maybe the only other person in this room that wasn't with someone. Over the racket that the girls from One, Two and Four were making, Nikos contained himself enough to walk on over, slamming his tray down and startling the boy.
He smiled. "Didn't mean to make you jump."
Spelt Brassard did his best to return the smile but Nikos saw him move a seat to the right, putting distance between the two of them. "That's okay," he mumbled.
"Mind if I sit?"
Something told Nikos that he did mind but he ignored it. He was drawn to Spelt purely because he was the only person that hadn't surrounded himself under the false belief that allies would take him somewhere. Nikos had to believe that being by himself was the best option. If it wasn't, he'd give in to the sadness that revolved around the fact he'd put himself in the very position he no longer wanted to be in.
Spelt smiled once more, and as funny as it looked for him to be forcing it out, Nikos didn't mind. He knew himself well enough to know he wasn't the most savoury person around. Still, he didn't go out of his way to be liked.
"Got much training done the past few days?" Nikos asked.
Spelt nodded. "I've done my best, I guess." For a moment, he almost looked sad, but he smothered that down and looked back again at Nikos. "What about you?"
"Only as much as I can get in. They don't give you an awful lot of time to prepare, do they?"
"I heard in the early Games this part was skipped entirely," Spelt said. "You took a train to the Capitol and the next morning the Games began." He shivered. "Could you imagine?"
Meh. Part of Nikos actually might have liked that. Strip this process down for all its false pageantry and get the real thing going. It wasn't as if he wanted to kill but it was better than this.
The other part of Nikos wanted longer to make himself feel competent with something. The two Career alliances annoyed him, but he also knew they were the biggest threats here.
"Not finding it a bit lonely by yourself?" Nikos asked, changing the subject.
Spelt shook his head firmly. "Not in the slightest. I hope my District partner Iva and her friends do well, but it's not for me."
"I'm alone too," Nikos said.
"You aren't going to-"
Nikos laughed. "Don't get your hopes up. I didn't come over here to make the final alliance of training. I just thought I'd say hi."
Spelt seemed to be warming up a little and Nikos was surprised he was managing a conversation without grumbling or arguing. Something about Spelt he was drawn to. Perhaps it was simply because he was the only other person by himself.
"Who's your District partner?" Spelt asked.
Nikos pointed to the table where she sat with her two allies. "Albie. She's found herself a nice little group."
I'm not jealous, Nikos thought. Not in the slightest.
"Do you hope they do well too?"
"Not as well as me," Nikos joked. "But if they do, then I guess I won't be around to congratulate them."
"I suppose so."
Nikos didn't know what else to say to Spelt. Neither did Spelt towards Nikos. They sat there until the bell tolled signalling the end of lunch and with a goodbye, Spelt left Nikos to his own devices.
Albie looked at him as she walked past and nodded her head. He appreciated the fact that despite all his shortcomings, she didn't outright ignore him. This whole new life he was leading just confused him. He knew it had been his choice at the end of the day, but with each step he was having to take, he wondered if he could see the journey out to the very end.
I have to. Otherwise – this was all for nothing.
With that thought in his head, he did his best to ignore any semblance of jealousy over all the alliances around him, convincing himself they were making mistakes, and resumed his training.
Teak Underwood, 16 years old;
District Five Male.
Teak looked at his alliance with pride.
Not just pride in them, but pride in himself. He was surprised he'd found it within who he was to be able to find not just one ally, but five. He hadn't expected Sinta and Bryce to offer an alliance on the first day but ever since then, he was finding himself coming more and more out of his shell.
He just wanted to do what was best for the whole team. He was willing to give it his best shot when the Games started and not just for his sake, but for everyone.
Sinta and Bryce were busy sparring, sword against sword, when Sinta let hers drop and took a deep breath, exhaling with sweat dripping from her brow. "Guys, one sec, I've had a thought."
Sinta hadn't exactly labelled herself as leader but they all knew she was the one that had made it possible for them to all be together. Bryce was definitely the person she was closest to and Teak didn't mind that so much. They each bought their own personalities and skillsets to the group. He knew he wasn't the best fighter so he'd been trying to pack his mind full of as many useful tidbits as he could over the past few days.
He smiled at Sheridan as she moved closer to Sinta. She tried something akin to a smile back. Teak took that as good progress.
"Everything okay your majesty?" Celestin called out, breaking conversation from Altia.
Sinta laughed. There was no ill-will to what Celestin had to say. If anything, the way he looked at Sinta seemed quite reverent.
She pointed to the clock behind them all. "I reckon with us only having a few hours left, and with our own private sessions tomorrow, we should try to cover as much ground as possible. Fill the gaps of what you think you need readdressing."
Teak watched Sinta with that pride continuing to flicker in his chest. She may not have seen herself as a leader, but it came naturally. Teak was definitely more of the follower personality type. He didn't envy her position but he'd do everything in his power to help Sinta from where she stood.
"So, what's the plan?" Altia asked.
"Split up into pairs and see what else you can cram in," Bryce said, replacing Sinta's voice. He was starting to impress Teak similarly. Finding his feet. "And also use it as time to get to know each other. We're a large alliance. Right Sinta? That was right, wasn't it?"
"Exactly," she said with a nod. "You guys okay with that?"
Sheridan hummed her assent. Teak nodded fervently. Altia and Celestin seemed quite content.
"Excellent. Well, the one person I don't know much about is definitely Bryce, so you're with me."
His face went whiter if that were possible. Sinta giggled.
"Only joking, Bryce," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll go off with Sheridan. Cel' join up with Bryce. And Teak are you okay with Altia?"
He looked at the girl in question as her eyes found him and something felt a bit unsure in his stomach. He didn't like that instant sensation. She was his ally after all. Maybe they didn't know each other but this was as good a time as any to try and learn something about someone he was determined to help.
Sinta's plan was great. They were a large alliance. They had to trust each other.
"Alright with me," Teak said.
"C'mon," Altia gestured with her head and off they went, splitting from the group. "What do you fancy trying?"
"I'm a bit rubbish at climbing," Teak confessed.
"Then climbing it is."
He felt embarrassment at the thought of showing himself up front of Altia who seemed reasonably strong, but now was as good a time as any to try his best at building up that skill. They headed over to the net which was currently occupied by a solitary figure. Teak tried to ignore the fact it was a Career male – boy from Four, Destan or something – as he swung from the net with ease.
"You're close with Sinta, right?" Altia asked, tapping her foot.
"Hm?" Teak blinked, looking away from Destan and focusing back in on Altia. "Oh yeah – yeah definitely. Her and Bryce have been kind."
There was a pause as Altia's brow furrowed. A thought seemed to flash in her mind and Teak felt bad – had he said something wrong?
"Does that not concern you?" she asked.
Concern me? He didn't understand. Sinta and Bryce were most definitely not the type of people to be remotely worried about. He was learning to trust people properly, especially those that were showing him the type of kindness he'd always wanted.
"What do you mean?"
Altia sighed. "They're nice – like really nice. Almost too nice."
"How can you be too nice?" Teak asked, confused.
"We've got Celestin who needs a bit of a kick at times but is trying which I respect. And we don't know much about Sheridan but she seems competent enough. I don't think there's a question about trusting each other, but think about it – we have an alliance of six."
Teak didn't like where the conversation was going. A large alliance had never been a worry of his to have going into the Games. In fact, it made him feel more confident than he'd felt in a long time.
"We aren't exactly threatening anyone," Teak said.
"I don't think the others will see it that way. Especially his kind," Altia pointed up at Destan who was high in the rafters, focused on his climbing. "I mean why is he alone in the first place? He has an alliance. And by alliance, I mean the Careers are split down the middle. That means there's even more groups out there. We are the largest alliance, Teak. I'm just saying that worries me."
Teak understood where Altia was coming from but he didn't want to give that thought much room to breathe. He saw the cons of what they had going on but Teak considered the positives as being much more heavily weighted. It was a shame Altia couldn't see it that way. Teak was determined, when the Games started, to persuade her otherwise.
Before Teak could really say anything else, there was a gentle cough from above them, and Teak's stomach flipped at the eyes of Destan who was now focused on the two of them, descending the net.
"Hate to eavesdrop but you aren't exactly quiet," he said with a smile towards Altia.
"Is it common practice for your type to be by yourself when you have allies?" Altia said, crossing her arms. She didn't seem that scared of him. Teak was impressed.
The Career just laughed. "Rest assured, Twelve, when the Games start myself and my allies are going to be completely ready for what we've trained for."
The emphasis on the fact he had trained made Teak feel even more uncomfortable. He wanted to go.
"You don't intimidate me," Altia said stubbornly.
"Maybe not alone, but I hope you haven't listened too much to what my deluded District partner had to say yesterday lunch time. Believe me – it won't work out well for you."
Sinta hadn't really talked much at all about the prospect of going after Chancellor. In fact, after the altercation between him, Sinta and Sheridan, she probably wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Teak didn't blame her. The boy was terrifying.
"I think we can make our own choices about what we listen to or don't listen to," Altia uncrossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Destan. "But thank you for your concern."
"Just wanting to check what the rest of you tributes are thinking of doing once the-"
"Teak, let's go," Altia interrupted.
Destan's lips curled into a snarl as Altia strutted off, leaving whatever Destan had to say unspoken. Teak looked at him and Destan glared back. He didn't want to be scared. He wished he could share Sheridan and Altia's steely confidence in the face of these trained tributes, but part of Teak thought it was stupid for them to even consider standing up to them.
He ran off after Altia.
For all the confidence he was beginning to feel in the presence of such a large group, there were still things that held Teak back. The fear he felt about his impending future being the harshest of all.
"Altia, wait!"
He ran after his ally, away from Destan.
The Games are only a few days away.
Teak swallowed his fear down and refused to let that stop him.
He had training to do.
Henley Pereira, 15 years old;
District Five Female.
As the three of them spent the last few hours of training together, Henley couldn't help but look at her new allies with worried thoughts.
Iva and Damon were nice people. Damon especially. Given where they were, in the Hunger Games, where the skills they could pick up and put together could mean the difference between life and death, Henley understood why they had approached her. It made sense.
But the part of Henley that had spent her entire life distancing herself from people because she always believed they only wanted her for what she could bring to the table, felt distant from them. Iva and Damon were slowly breaking down their walls towards each other and Henley couldn't help but keep hers up.
She had to remind herself that despite the anxiety she felt about her relationship with the two of them, that this was also the Games. Maybe keeping those walls up was a good thing. As soon as she'd managed to drill some sense into Archie, whacking him about with a cushion, her mentor had said so as well. Keep your distance. Use your head. Play to your strengths.
Part of Henley, though, wanted those walls to break. She wanted to smile goofily like Damon. She wanted to slowly ease into a sense of comfort like Iva was with every word that Damon threw out there haphazardly.
It was all so confusing.
Iva and Damon had no idea what Henley had spent the whole time thinking and seemed very happy around her. Henley refused to let them see into her inner turmoil and smiled as they passed over the knife. "Feels weird, right?" Damon said.
Henley nodded. The cool metal ignited more fear inside Henley, but rather than the tearful mess she'd been on the train, she was finding her feet. The healer in her found this to go against every single instinct, but then again, they were in the Games as teenagers – this went against every instinct a kid was supposed to have.
Henley was learning to step outside her comfort zone for the sake of her own survival.
"Have you ever had to deal with stab wounds before?" Damon blurted out.
Iva gave him a look. That look. Damon seemed familiar with it and just rolled his eyes with a laugh. Henley couldn't help but giggle. If she had to pick, she preferred Damon out of the two of them. Iva was a bit more standoffish which would have made Henley a hypocrite to say she disliked, but Damon reminded her of what Henley could be like if she let herself go just a little.
He was a reminder that even though they were in the Games, they could afford the chance to act their age and be the kids they were. Henley still wasn't sure of that, though. She couldn't get over the fact that only one of them could survive out of every single tribute in this room.
"It's okay Iva," Henley said. "And I'm still only really in my training period. I mean – I was. My mentor Marilyn kept all the grisly stuff for herself which I guess I appreciated at the time. Now as grim as it sounds, I almost wish I'd been exposed a bit more to some of that."
"I understand," Iva said with a solemn nod. "It's a bit twisted isn't it? Maybe seeing a bit more of the gruesome stuff would have actually benefitted you."
Henley looked at Iva and saw the kindness in her eyes, the soft, sad smile that played on her lips. I can't spend my entire time holding back with them, Henley silently thought. They've given me a chance. I have to give them one.
"We haven't got much time left, have we?" Damon said, interrupting Henley from her own thoughts. "Do we get to see each other again after training?"
"Only in passing really," Henley said.
Archie had filled her in about the entire process. They might walk past each other, or have time to sit opposite one another tomorrow before their private session, or on the hovercraft heading towards the Arena, but this was really it.
Henley realised looking at Iva and Damon that they hadn't really talked much about the actual Arena. About what they would do when the gong sounded and the Games began. It frightened Henley giving that thought much focus, but if they weren't going to be the two to discuss it, then maybe Henley had to take the initiative and think things through a bit more logically.
"Can you believe it's in three days?" Iva said, shaking her head.
Henley knew now was as good a time as any. "Speaking of which – did you two ever discuss what your strategy is going into the Games?"
A look went between the two of them. Henley couldn't help but feel distant because she was the last addition and they'd had longer getting to know each other. She longed for that closeness, but also didn't want it. The whole thing was messy.
"I'll take that as a no," Henley said, laughing. "Maybe we should talk about it?"
"I vote we just run. Don't even risk it," Iva said.
Damon nodded fervently. "Forget the Cornucopia."
Henley understood their fear. She had the same terror in her gut as well. But they weren't being realistic and a part of her was frustrated at their lack of willingness to at least get something.
"Can I ask you – what was it again that caught your interest about me?" Henley said. "Why did you ask me to be your ally?"
Iva looked confused but answered anyway. "Your ability as a healer. And the fact you seem like a nice person."
A nice person. Henley felt a flutter in her chest but ignored it.
She nodded. "I can't help you if I don't have at least some supplies. We might get sponsors, or we might not. I'm not saying we run straight into the thick of it all, but we can't just high-tail it and leave immediately. We have to be realistic."
Again, Iva and Damon shared a look between them. She could see the fear in Damon's eyes at the prospect of what they would have to do, and Iva's grim nod of her head as she tried to calm him.
"I see your point," she said.
Damon cleared his throat. "I suppose we do need some supplies."
Henley was glad she was getting through to them. She didn't want to march on in and start to take over, but she couldn't help but see this situation for what it was and what they would have to do. Maybe Damon and Iva did have the deeper relationship and could afford the niceties that came alongside it, but as much as Henley was envious of it, if she had the grounded mindset then maybe that was actually the better option.
If she wanted to win – and there was never any doubt in her mind that she did – Henley would see her fight in the Games for what it had to be. Play to your strengths, that had been Archie's blundering advice. She'd managed to convince him to help her and Teak, she had now found a decent alliance, and if Henley was the only person with the stomach to fight all her natural instincts and do what had to be done, then so be it.
She looked at Iva and Damon with sadness in her heart but a grim determination.
"In and out," Henley said. "Let's get what we need and go."
Whether that would work or not, she had no idea, but they had to try something.
The Games were beginning soon.
There was no point in pretending otherwise.
Maisley Corvac, 14 years old;
District Six Female.
One hour to go.
Maisley stood with her alliance, watching the clock tick on by, counting the minutes down until training was over. Her little group that she'd somehow managed to put together, a group that looked at her with trust and loyalty, were busy filling in the final hour they had properly together.
The last few days of the Capitol were a whirl-wind, Breanna had said. She had to relish the time they had left.
"C'mon Ponche, I'll race you." Carys had herself arched on the track that ran around the entire Training Hall's upper-half. She looked at Ponche, trying to convince him to join her. "It'll do you some good."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ponche said.
Carys groaned, laughed, and Maisley watched it with a smile on her face. For everything that had happened in the Capitol so far, every little string she was trying to knot together for her own betterment, she liked these people. They weren't friends, not by any means. Maisley knew it would be silly to call them that, but they were close enough that she genuinely felt she could depend on them.
That had been her entire motivation going into training. Find someone that would fill the gaps that she couldn't herself. Maisley wasn't stupid. She was the youngest. The shortest.
Being the richest didn't matter. Daddy's money could only go so far in life.
"Could I have a word, Mais'?"
She looked over at Castor who was smiling at her. Ponche and Carys were too busy bickering about Carys' desire to have a few laps round the hall. Maisley knew Ponche would eventually cave. He watched her, mostly unsure of himself and why Maisley had wandered over in the first place, but Maisley knew he was a good guy deep down.
He wanted his allies to like him.
"Sure," Maisley said. "Do you mean in private?"
Castor nodded and Maisley's stomach flipped just a little. Honestly, she was worried about her allies – worried about every other tribute. Not because she doubted their loyalty, but loyalty could only go so far in the Games. Maisley had pictured herself trying to fight through honest means and couldn't see herself besting anyone.
It was why she'd had to think about approaching these Games with a different mindset. Spin the web – like she had done back in Six, telling her fanciful tales – in a grounded, realistic way. The stories of a little rich girl could now be the tales she had to tell to survive.
"Everything okay?" Maisley asked.
"Oh yeah, definitely," Castor said, leaning against the wall fixture close to where they stood. "I've just been thinking about something I've wanted to ask for a while. Or not ask – say I guess. With little time left, there's not much point in waiting any longer."
Oh god – what?
"I'm always here to listen, Castor."
"I know, Maisley," Castor said, smiling. "You know – I've never picked up a bow myself before." Oh god. "But I'm pretty sure even with my shitty aim I'd be able to at least point it in the right direction."
Maisley knew what he was hinting at and immediately she felt as if she wanted to run away. All the pieces of her protection shattering without a second to reap the rewards. But Castor was just smiling. And as he nodded, sighing, something told Maisley he wasn't angry.
"Look, Maisley, I get it. You're using the only real strength you see yourself in possession of to do something that might help you. It's why I didn't say anything the second I saw you skitter on over to me and Ponche. I didn't see any need to."
Maisley thought about what she would have done in his position. She wasn't manipulating him in any drastically evil sort of way – not in the way of wanting to strip him of security only to backstab him. She'd shot that arrow because she'd simply wanted a way into conversation with two people she'd thought might see her for the young girl she was and feel content with allowing the weakest tribute in with them.
Ponche didn't seem as convinced, but again he clung to every word Castor said. And Carys was a fireball. She was probably the strongest of their whole alliance.
"Why?" Maisley asked, her voice meeker than usual. "Why aren't you mad?"
"Because you're a kid. We're all kids. You're the Mayor's daughter and you used the only thing you think you can bring to the table to help you in the Games," Castor said, placing a hand on Maisley's shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. "You ain't a bad person for wanting to survive, Mais'. And I don't think it's such a bad thing knowing who you are and what you feel you lack and wanting to surround yourself in something that makes you feel stronger."
Maisley felt everything that had been building up since her name was called on that stage, the years of expectation put upon her by her father, every lie she'd told to simply stand out from the crowd; it all fell apart and she felt the warmth and the wetness round her eyes before she could stop herself.
Looking strong and confident didn't matter so much to Maisley anymore. The hand on her shoulder, the smile on Castor's face, Maisley couldn't help it – she couldn't stop herself from crying.
"I have no idea what I'm doing. Not a clue," Maisley struggled to get the words out, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Castor's smile made her smile. And for once, it actually felt good to cry. "I know that the Games aren't the place for someone like me. But I'm trying. I really am. I don't want to go."
"I know, Mais'."
"I don't want to die," Maisley bowed her head and sniffled, watching a teardrop roll down her nose and splatter against the ground. "I'm scared, Castor."
"Well it's a good job you found us then, isn't it?"
She looked up and felt the ruffle of her hair. Castor beamed at her and Maisley sniffled again, trying to compose herself. It was good letting it all out. She didn't feel so stuck. So contained.
"I don't want the others to see me cry," Maisley said. "I look stupid."
"You look like a kid who's been told they have to go into a death match and kill other kids. I don't think it's stupid at all."
"Just don't tell the others?" Maisley asked.
Castor nodded. "Let it be our little secret. You don't need to lie to me, Maisley. Whether you had dad's money or not, sponsors or not, we're a team. I've got your back."
Part of Maisley, the Maisley she'd been trying to be since the train journey, knew she shouldn't confess to what she was about to say. But something about Castor, something about the fact she'd just cried, it told her it wouldn't matter. She could say it anyway.
"My dad didn't say anything," Maisley said. "He wasn't even allowed to say goodbye."
"I know, Maisley," Castor replied. "I didn't buy it for a second."
Maisley reminded herself that Castor did not care. She reminded herself that he wasn't pretending to be cool with her. She'd grown up in a life lavished in lies and luxury and it felt strange feeling like someone could actually be genuine with her.
That was why she'd never even bothered trying to be honest with other people.
For the sake of her survival, Maisley was prepared to keep it up, smile and act the confident girl she was trying to be, but a burden had been taken off her shoulders in the last ten minutes.
She wasn't ready for the Games by any means, but she felt like she had all the right tools to help her get as far as she could.
It was all she could really ask for. A chance at making it out alive.
Hey all another shout-out for an SYOT that's out there! Please if you have the time go and submit to Josephm611 – check his profile for all the details.
Question/s!:
What's your favourite element of a SYOT? It could be anything that goes into what makes one.
Favourite thing that's happened in the training chapters of this story?
So. After six chapters and every single tribute getting a POV – training is finished! It was hella fun to write, lots of alliances being made with interactions here and there. I think what I enjoyed so much about writing it was trying to infuse little cameos into POVs even if the tributes weren't necessarily allies. You got to see the majority of tributes more than just within their POV which I appreciated doing for the sake of making this cast the most fully fleshed out of any SYOT I've written.
Also I realised that before the Games, I will have written 72 POVs. And that's… a lot. Lmao. I drop POVs for the Games anyway so – if you read Lonely Hour and Hideaway you're familiar with how I'm going to format the Games.
Until next time folks!