Carameuse Heloise, 48
Capitol Citizen
"Another!" Gregoire's laughter echoes throughout the car. As the harsh sound bounces off of the glasses still on the table, Carameuse takes it all in. Her suspects, the peacekeepers, the bartender…
And one dead.
The room almost takes on a nasty maroon hue as she looks at the body - there's nothing like a murder to sully what otherwise would be a charming little bar. But sure enough, the last man - the one who was about to punch Gregoire, she recalls - she was about to interview is dead, and with no explanation.
Yet.
"He - he just collapsed right there, and the drink he was holding fell into the floor," stammers a woman in violet. The purple shades that adorn her body fit well with her pale skin - she rather looks like a blooming wildflower, with a violet-to-indigo gown and golden hair that spills out at the top. "I don't know how he died, I wasn't paying attention. I was talking to Cassia, you see…"
"So?" Flavian sneers, not even bothering to feign sympathy for the dead. For a moment, Carameuse feels an innate urge to recoil from the thin man - people like him are exactly the type that she'd rather avoid. She doesn't like the slimy ones, wrapped up in their self-importance and thinking that they're the toast of the town. They never know when they've gone too far. "I'm sure he just took a sip of the drink and died, which means that he was poisoned. And anyone could have slipped it in. Who knows? Maybe it was you, Ms. Vincent."
Carameuse casts a warning glance towards the guards, and they back away. The tension seems to decrease as they do so, the bartender slipping back to the security of her counter and the others taking seats at the longest table in the car. "No more drinks, I think. Now, we do have proof that one of you is a murderer - who else could have killed him?"
"No, no, you can't say that!" Valerie shakes her head with a fierce toss, her amber eyes hardening. "We have no idea if he had any pre-existing conditions, if the stress did him in, or if someone else did something. There are so many other possibilities, and we, we, we can't just jump to conclusions!" She finishes the sentence with a flourish, as if she's settled the debate once and for all.
"Why would a fitness mogul, merely in his early fifties and supposedly in the peak of health, die like that? It doesn't add up, and I'm astonished that you can't see that." Carameuse glances over at Valerie rather sternly, and the woman flushes. "No, someone in this room did it, and I suspect that it was indeed in his drink, as Mr. Cateo kindly pointed out."
"How do you know it was one of us?" Gregoire asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. "It could have been anyone in the room - one of the peacekeepers, I mean, even the bartender! She's the one with access to the drinks, correct?"
"How very true," Carameuse replies. "But we do have enough equipment on this train to analyze the cup, and from there we can search your persons, the car, your belongings, anything to see what killed our friend. Does anyone feel the need to confess, or do we need to take further measures to find out?"
No one replies.
Enyo Bedford, 18
District Two Female
It's time to see what she can do.
She fidgets in place while waiting to enter the training room, shooting a glance over at Aeson. He's the epitome of calm - cool, collected, and focused on the goal at hand. He'll be entering for his private session before she will, just after the girl from One, Tourmaline, is finished hers. Enyo wonders idley how the girl would have done, but doesn't have time to continue that line of thought. After all, it's hard to focus when Aeson gets up and is escorted into the training room by two armed peacekeepers.
She fidgets with her fingers, pretending that she has a knot in her hands that she's making over and over and over. She likes to have something to play with when she's nervous, something to stop her from feeling so fidgety. But she doesn't have that something - she just has to wait until she heads into the training room.
She'll do well in there. She might not be able to articulate her thoughts well, but she doesn't fold under pressure. She'll be able to perform her skills, and well at that. She'll just have to find out what the gamemakers think of that - that, Enyo thinks, will be the annoying part. Hopefully, they'll score her fairly.
She can only hope.
While waiting for Aeson to finish his session, Enyo entertains herself by observing the rest of the tributes still in here. There's the pair from Three, sitting together and waiting for their own sessions. She's watched them pair up with the boy from Twelve for an alliance of their own - they'll be strong, but not the threat that the largest alliance this year will be. They're a nuisance, not a danger.
And then there's Four - Fraser, who doesn't seem to quite know what he's doing here, and Shelby, who didn't join the alliance. She must not fit in well with Four - although they seem to know each other, they don't bother to speak to one another. The same is with District Five, who shift in their seats while waiting for their own turn to prove themselves to the gamemakers.
District Six and Seven are comfortable with one another - the boy from Seven helps the girl adjust her seat every so often, perhaps because she's pregnant, thinks Enyo - but it's Eight that's interesting to watch. The girl squirms in her seat while stifling small coughs, tearstains visible on her pale face, while the boy bites his lip in restraint every time she coughs. It's like he's struggling not to yell at her, instead being just patient enough to wait until his own session before taking out his own aggression -
Then the peacekeepers are standing in front of her, and she realizes after a moment that it's her turn to enter the training room. She gives the pair a smile when she walks in, but they don't smile back - perhaps that's not what she was supposed to do.
Oh well, she shouldn't worry about it now.
So, she's finally made it. Enyo's not sure when she's supposed to begin, but after an uncomfortable shrug she hurries to a sword and begins to spar with an instructor. She's strong enough to take the man easily, and then drops the sword in favour of a spear. She throws it once, twice, thrice, dozens of times towards the targets, hitting the bullseye every time. One of the instructors has the idea of moving the targets around for her to target, and she hits each one.
There's something comforting about hitting it each time, measuring the angle and judging her aim and strength before letting the spear soar through the air and into yet another target.
It feels good to be good at this.
All too soon, the private session is over, and Enyo stands awkwardly in the middle of the room until two more peacekeepers escort her out. She looks up at the gamemakers for affirmation - most of them aren't looking anymore, but those that are smile back down.
That's good, right?
Hopefully, Enyo thinks as she heads up the elevator and towards the floor that she shares with Aeson and the victors, they'll have all seen what she can do.
Desdemona Steen, 15
District Eight Female
She gives a small moan when the boy from Five heads into his private session. "Oh, I feel sick again - is there anything I can take? Doesn't the Capitol have medicine or something?"
"I told you, you can wait until after your session before asking about medicine again," Tristan whispers through gritted teeth. "Stop being such a wimp, Mona - you have to wait until this is all over. Think of it this way - at least you aren't from Twelve."
"Oh - oh!" Mona whimpers at the thought of having to wait an extra hour longer than she has to now to feel better. She'd hate to have to wait that long - Arisa must be brave to sit still for so long. No, Mona would rather be from one of the first districts, like Three or Five. At least she'd be able to get through everything more quickly.
Tristan rolls his eyes at Mona, turning away to talk to the girl from Nine - Emma? Mona can't remember many of the names of her fellow tributes anymore. She tried to at the beginning - she knows Tourmaline and Duchess, Armani, Arisa, and Tristan, - of course - but none of the other names have stuck in her head properly. She hasn't had a chance to learn the other names properly, or even speak to the other tributes.
Truth be told, she doesn't want to.
Tristan nudges her when the girl from Six heads into the training centre, pointing at the door. "It's your turn in about half an hour. Be ready - I know I haven't been good to you, but try to show them one of your strengths. You can't be that bad, can you?"
Mona simply glares back at Tristan, and he slips back into silence.
The room is quiet - too quiet, she thinks. It's filled with a curious nervous tension that's come with the fact that they're about to demonstrate their skills to the very people who will be controlling their lives in the arena - if they don't satisfy them, they might be the first to die once the dust settles from the bloodbath.
Oh, she knows that she isn't going to do well. She has nothing to show them, nothing to prove to them that she can do. All she can hope is that she gets lucky with one of the identification tests and that she isn't too much of a failure.
And after the two from Seven enter the room - the girl holding her stomach to protect the growing child inside as she walks through the large doors - and Tristan walks through the same doors with a confident grin, it's time for her to see what she can do.
She can't fail.
She can't.
The gamemakers are silent when the doors close with a clash and a bang, which she jumps at. She can't help it, she's too keyed up to keep herself calm now. She looks up at the gamemakers to see if they're ready to watch, then gives a shrug. She doesn't know if she's supposed to wait for them to tell her to start, but it's not like they can stop her now.
They'll have to watch her now, whether they like it or not.
She walks steadily to the one treadmill to the side of the room. She's going to start with something she can do, something that she can prove she's good at. She doesn't care anymore, not about the gamemakers not telling her what to do or if she'll fail miserably. She'll do what she loves, instead.
She's going to run.
Turning it up to the highest setting possible, Mona sprints as fast as she can for as long as she can. It's longer than what she's used to, but she's too determined to fail now - she's not giving these Capitolites a reason to go sniggering home. She's always been a good runner, and her feet don't fail her. It's only when she starts to cough, about six minutes in at a blindingly fast pace, when she stops.
Getting off the treadmill, she glances up at the gamemakers. Most aren't watching her by now, but those that are have something that look like… they look like they have expressions of approval on their faces.
She spends the rest of the session building up a large fire, smirking when she gets the fire started before attempting to boil water on top of it. She doesn't boil the water by the time that she's told to leave, but that doesn't matter.
Someone noticed her.
Aloie Church, 12
District Eleven Female
She's starting to get bored.
She taps her foot against the cement floor, making a little rhythm to occupy her mind with while she waits for her turn to enter the large training centre. Already, almost twenty of her fellow tributes have gotten their chance to head into the centre and show off. She doesn't want to sit still for any longer, she wants to do something, to move, to breathe.
It neve feels like this at the apothecary. There, she always has something to do. There's always another stack of fresh, green herbs for her to sort through, clean, and put in place in the many jars on the walls of the apothecary. There's always a patient waiting to be treated for some minute injury, another thumb to be bandaged, there's always something to do. Her parents worried that she'd miss them when she was sent to work with Cora - well, she did at the start - but that wasn't her main worry.
She didn't want to be left with nothing to do.
Who will help Cora now? If Aloie doesn't get back, who'll apprentice under the older woman to help the district? She loves her job, she loves helping her people in the apothecary. But here? No, she's serving a very different purpose - she's a sheep off to slaughter.
And then Luke leaves his seat to head into the training centre, giving a curt glance back at Aloie before disappearing through the thick, grey doors, and she's all alone now.
There's only two other tributes with her - the boy and girl from Twelve, both waiting patiently in their seats. She knows that they're both in alliances - at this point, everyone knows who is where. The boy, Hex, is working with the pair from Three, while Arisa is working with Armani from Six and Desdemona from Eight.
Aloie doesn't know if any of them will make it out of the bloodbath, but she hopes that they will.
She hopes that everyone will.
The only reason she's in the mega-alliance is because of Luke. He had realized that it would protect her - well, he thought that - if they had entered the alliance together, and he had persuaded her to do the same. She'd rather be in a smaller alliance, but she won't complain. It's nice to know that she has nine other people who won't kill her.
She won't be able to say the same thing after the bloodbath's over, though.
"Aloie Church, please head into the training room." Aloie looks up, surprised, to see two peacekeepers clad in their pristine uniforms above her. They're imposing figures, but they part to let her through to the training centre, where she'll finally be able to do something.
Hopefully, she won't fail.
She gulps when she heads into the training centre, sneaking a glance up at the gamemakers above her head. They're all in that little room of theirs while they feast on a meal that's been provided for them, not paying much attention to her. She doesn't mind that, to be honest. It's nice to know that she has only a few of them judging her every move.
But that's enough of standing still for Aloie - it's time to perform.
She easily sorts all of the edible plants from the poisonous ones, even taking a moment to show how a few of the poisonous ones could be used to help heal wounds. No one seems interested, and she shrugs. They're not going to pay much attention to her - people are people, and they focus on their needs first and foremost. That table full of food looks a lot more satisfying to them than her healing skills.
But one of the peacekeepers looks interested.
And then, to her shock, the peacekeeper whips out a gun of all things and shoots an avox who's waiting in the corner.
She can't believe her eyes for a moment, just gaping at the avox that's starting to bleed in their arm from the wound. The peacekeeper gestures over to her, smirking. "Hurry up - you've got their attention, honey."
True enough, every gamemaker is watching her with eyes wide open.
Aloie gulps once, twice, then tears the arms of her uniform off with two knives - her tourniquet, her best choice considering that there aren't any other options for her to use.
It's time to get to work.
Another chapter! We're only getting closer to the end of the Capitol and I am excited! :D
Thoughts on the chapter? Thoughts on how everything is turning out? Do y'all think that we have any potential winners in this one? Feel free to share! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing, y'all are awesome. I hope that you all are having a lot of fun with the Capitol, and that you're ready for the arena. I'm hyped!
Enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ