Raleigh West, District Six
"Try not to eat too much. Food is going to be difficult in the arena. So the trick is walking the line between making sure you have enough energy and preparing your stomach for less food." Drift said to Raleigh. They were sitting in the dining room, along with Astra, Hebe, and more avoxes than was probably necessary. Hebe was having a conversation with one of them in sign, but stopped to turn to Astra.
"He's right. I've seen so many tributes eat so much at the Capitol that their body starts to forget what it's like to be hungry. That's one of the few advantages non career districts have, so I wouldn't waste it."
"I've never actually been hungry." Astra said, almost ashamed of the fact.
Raleigh certainly had. The South Corner was one of the poorest areas of District Six, and it was where Raleigh had lived his entire life. Both he and his twin brother had taken tesserae both years they qualified for it, and even then his family struggled to keep from starving. It seemed a foreign concept to him to have never actually been hungry, to always have food on the table.
"Well. It's not actually a big advantage." Hebe amended, "I wouldn't worry about it."
Instead of being reassured, Astra scowled and shot a scathing look at Raleigh. He cleared his throat a bit and didn't meet her gaze. They had never been the closest district pair, but up until a day or so ago they had at least been civil towards each other. Raleigh wasn't sure what had changed. He wondered if it was because she had realized just how often his tics happened. He did try to suppress it on occasion. But sooner or later it bubbled up and he couldn't hold it back any more. Raleigh wouldn't blame her if that was the issue. After all, stealth was an important part of the Hunger Games. He couldn't help but wonder if his tics would give him away.
Drift looked over at the clock and stood up. "It's time to go."
There was something final about those words. Raleigh had spent the morning in denial, somehow hoping that this moment wouldn't end, that breakfast could go on forever. But even as he thought that, he knew it was impossible. Bad things happened, people died, the world was unfair. This was just the way of things. He grabbed an apple and placed it in his pocket for the journey.
Drift looked over at him, for what Raleigh realized may be the last time, and straightened his collar. "Us South Corner folks are always underestimated. You've got a better chance than they know."
Raleigh hugged him, and then the mentors traded places. Hebe smiled at him, but she stared at him in a strange way. As if she was trying to memorize his face.
"It was good to meet you, Raleigh West. I hope we see each other again."
Raleigh didn't respond. There was nothing to say. So District Six left the training center together in silence.
Elixane Marcus, District Three
Elixane had never been on a plane before. She knew all about the basics of flight. After all, she was a Three. The concepts of thrust and aerodynamics were familiar to her. But that was not experience. That was the problem with District Three, at least according to Elixane. Everything there was theoretical. Most folk seemed content studying a thing instead of exploring it. It was a difficult place for a girl like her to grow up, brash and reckless and not as smart as her parents wished she was.
But now that didn't matter as much. She was on a plane, actually flying, on her way to the competition that would change her entire life.
Dash was next to her on the plane and handed her a piece of paper, an action she found rather impressive given they were both strapped into a fast moving vehicle. She took it and carefully unrolled it.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Revised plans for the Blood Bath." It wasn't Dash but Zella who answered, "That is if you know how to read it."
"Of course I can read battle plans. Do you think I'm an idiot?" she snapped. The girl from Two shrugged and rolled her eyes.
"Who knows what they taught you at that Three school."
It was true that the Career academy for District Three most likely had a different training style than those in District One or Two. She couldn't be sure of course, since travel between districts was very closely monitored, but she imagined that there would have been a whole lot more combat at the other school.
Fighting was also part of the curriculum; District Three was aware that a career would be completely lost without some ability in battle. But the academy placed a particular focus on theoretical aspects that Elixane imagined the other upper districts didn't bother with. She had taken classes in Psychology, Military History, Crisis communication, and basic Hunger Games Arena design. There was even a class called Ancient Culture where they gave candidates books, movies and games from before the Dark Days. Lately, ancient references had been making their way into the arena, and the founders of the academy had thought the tributes would have a leg up if they could recognize when something was from an existing source.
Elixane preferred the practical lessons. However, it seemed like a lot of the military tactics had paid off, as she and Zella were able to communicate rather effortlessly about combat plans.
She hated to admit it, but the girl was a strategic genius. Her plans were practical but flexible, easy to change on short notice when new information was presented. She had a bit of a flow chart sensibility to her, directing the reader to a different part of her plan depending on how many enemies there were or what the environment was. They were absolutely beautiful, and Elixane had spent more time than was strictly necessary analyzing them all merely out of respect for the craftsmanship.
However, that didn't mean she liked Zella. In fact she was pretty sure she hated the girl. It wasn't just because they were both vying for the role of leader in the event that Titania ever showed a moment of weakness, though that was part of it. And her brashness was annoying but harmless enough. The worst part was that Zella seemed to think of Elixane as an ally. When they were alone she would murmur vitriol about Titania, or one of the other tributes. Her mind was bloodthirsty and cruel. She thought like a soldier, which Elixane supposed she was. All of Two gave off that vibe at least. Elixane didn't find the concept of killing children appealing. It was part of the Games, but that didn't mean she needed to enjoy it. Yet when Zella talked to her, it was always with a wide smile. As if they were the same person.
They definitely weren't at all. Zella was there for personal glory, and because of pressure from her parents. Elixane's parents hadn't wanted her to be a career at all. She had to fight them every single step of the way. Even when they had said their goodbyes, she could see by her father's expression that they were still trying to find a way to change her mind.
Elixane was there for a little glory, perhaps. But she had so many other reasons to be there. Without the games, she would be stuck in lower middle class drudgery forever. Her sister would never be cured, her father would continue to make depressing digital art pieces that no one wanted to buy. And beyond just her family, every child who was more interested in doing than thinking would be stuck with factory work as their only option.
The career academy in Three gave people like her a chance to be important. There was not a lot of non intellectual fame in her home district. If she did well here, an entirely new career would be open to people. One that didn't rely solely on how smart someone was.
Of course, it depended on her and Ashlar to stay open. So for now she would have to play nice with Zella, and all of the other careers. She was not a particularly patient person, but she could do it if she had to. Now was the time she would need it the most.
"These are really good." She said, and Zella looked reluctantly proud.
"Just don't ruin them. I know you're supposed to be our leader in combat, but if you make those tactics look bad I will stab you and take over myself."
"I'm going to make them look so good the Capitol will be talking about it for decades. Just you wait." Elixane said. She sounded petulant, but she couldn't help herself.
Zella smirked a bit and Elixane could feel the plane turn. They were close to landing. Soon, she would be in the middle of the Hunger Games, what she had been training for for years.
She couldn't wait.
Ashlar Granodum, District Three
Ashlar's heart was pounding so hard that he was genuinely concerned for his health. He tried to slow it down with some deep breathing techniques, but he could still hear it in his ears. The thumping was reassuring as much as it was concerning. And he had to admit that there was a good reason for his body to be reacting in such a way. After all, he was mere minutes from entering the arena.
When he was a child, he remembered watching the Hunger Games with his parents. They had explained to him about the rebellion, and how the Games was hosted every year so that Panem could memorialize the loss. It was an important part of Panem culture, of history, and though it seemed barbaric it was necessary. He had believed in the message wholeheartedly. One day, as his mother liked to tell people, he proudly declared that he was going to be a volunteer tribute like his favorite from District Two. His parents had laughed at him then. After all, there were no volunteers from District Three.
Except now there were. He was incredibly proud to have been chosen as a career for his district. He loved Three, just like he loved Panem. And it was an honor to be able to be part of this historic Games.
No wonder his heart was beating so fast.
The tunnels underneath the arena were cold and utilitarian. The walls were white, and completely empty. Wires and tubes ran above his head, but aside from that his path was clear. He was led by two peacekeepers through the corridors, which seemed to turn and branch off in strange incomprehensible patterns. He wondered how anyone could navigate them without getting lost.
Finally, they turned one last time and Ashlar found himself in a room with his stylist, Aurora. She smiled at him warmly and held out the uniform that he would be wearing for the games.
It was a relatively simple pair of separates: The top was a loose front button up with square short sleeves and stiff collar. The bottoms were shorts that went about to his knee, with rather deep pockets, and made from a smooth, dark green material like cotton. They were accompanied by a matching green hat and silk green scarf. Ashlar couldn't help but think about the parade outfit of the girl from Eight. He wondered if they had made these outfits already or if it was a direct reference, although he wasn't sure it mattered too much to him either way.
Ashlar changed into the clothing, rather pleased with how light the entire thing was. Aurora checked on him to make sure everything was in place, smoothing out his collar. She had not been a particularly emotional stylist. All of their interactions had been very businesslike and formal. Yet there was something about that small action that made Ashlar realize she would miss him.
"Do you have your token?" she asked.
Ashlar nodded and raised his wrist, where the small gold chain was already fastened. His girlfriend Agata had given it to him, and it was something that he dearly treasured. Whatever happened, he would have her close to him the entire time.
It was a reassuring thought, because although Ashlar was excited, he was also nervous. There had never been a pair of Three careers before. He didn't know if their training truly measured up. He didn't know if the other careers would truly accept him, or if he would even make it through the bloodbath. Nothing was certain. He didn't even know what the arena would look like.
Aurora gestured to a large tube in the center of the room and Ashlar hesitantly stepped inside. It began to rise, and he realized that now was not the time to think about everything he couldn't control. He was a Tribute, he represented his home district, and he had trained to make sure that he would make them proud. He would make them proud, no matter what happened out there. No matter what tricks the arena or the other tributes threw at him.
It was what he had been dreaming of since he was a small child.
The tube started to fill with a bright light as he reached the surface, and Ashlar looked out into the arena of the Hunger Games for the very first time.
AN: and that's the pregames! Are you excited? I'm excited. This has been such a journey guys, and I can't wait to actually get into the Games with all of these wonderful tributes. Hopefully no one gets mad if I kill their character. Also, Jimster920, Ruben's submitter, has suggested making a discord for this story. Let me know in a PM or comment if you guys would be interested in that. Anyway, thank you very much for reading!