VIRGIL CALLANCH BANE, 17, DISTRICT TWO, THE MORNING OF THE REAPINGS
"Down, and up- over and under- in and out," Virgil Callanch Bane murmured under his breath, his long pale fingers moving about like spiders through a web of threads. He pinched onto the weft, delicately working the yellow thread in and out of layers of warp threads. He bit his bottom lip, the threads intertwining like the baskets of material stacked in the corners of his room. As he worked, everything around him blurred away. Nothing else mattered. Leaning forward, his nose was mere inches away from the threads. Scraping against the ceiling, the loom stood tall in the center of Virgil's room. His bed, haphazardly shoved into the corner, was covered in canvas bags filled with scrapped yarn and cotton.
The small cool space was filled with the murmurings of his mantra, over and over. "Down, and up- over and under- in and out,". His body, slumped on a ragged wooden stool, was bathed in sterile white light. The lamp on the floor next to him was hot to the touch, whereas the outside world had been dark for hours. It's probably at least morning by now, Virgil knew. Yet it wasn't as if he cared. Why should he? He had work to do.
His neck cramped, his stomach growled and his eyes were bloodshot with bright pink capillaries. Ignoring the dull headache in the back of his skull, his eyelid subtly twitched. I'll just take a painkiller or two before the Reapings. It'll be fine, he reassured himself, refusing to simply lie down and sleep even though his body begged him to. Haphazardly, he continued to weave, nimble fingers shaking with exhaustion. He reached the end of a line of warp. Tilting his head, he leaned in with confusion. Why the hell is there- he began to panic. He scanned the tapestry with desperate eyes, tightly crossing his fingers.
"I swear if I missed another-" the boy began, stopping mid-sentence. Wincing, he immediately stood up. He bit his lip, daring to draw blood. His eyes honed in on two lines of warp thread next to each other, both under the same line of weft. It was at least a whole three rows up.
"Goddamnit!" he yelled in frustration. His hands met with his hair, shaking about furiously. He began to laugh at the stupidity of it all, his cheeks growing bright red. "One tiny mistake and now I have to fix at least three rows," he muttered under his breath at hyperspeed. "What if there's more- what if I have to restart the whole thing? Days- no, weeks. I'll have lost weeks!" he continued to ramble before bending over with one long frenzied groan. "Ughhhh-"
"Virgil?" A dainty voice shone from the other side of the door. He shot up and spun on his feet as the door began to open, blocked by a stray pile of textbooks he had been "borrowing" from the library. "May I come in?" the voice asked. Shaking his head, Virgil took in a deep breath.
"Yeah- sorry," he muttered, shuffling towards the door in his slippers. He began to shove away the pile of books. "Just gimme a moment," he stalled for a beat before swinging the door as far as it would go. A younger girl, with the same silky blonde hair and blushed skin casually stood in the doorway. He looked at her with wide bloodshot eyes, hair standing up in stray electric shocks.
"You look crazy," Rhea said, glancing at him in bewilderment.
"I know-, I know."
"Can I come in?" His younger sister asked, tapping her foot impatiently. Sure, she might have been less "awkward" compared to her older brothers, but there was no erasing the nervous energy that ran rampant in the Bane bloodline.
"Yeah… yes. Sorry," Virgil shook his head, turning around and heading back into his room. He aggressively combed his hair back with his fingers; nothing would matte it down. Rhea chuckled, closing the door behind her. "So, what brings you to this part of town?" Virgil asked. He plopped onto his stool. Pattering his fingers along the edge of the seat, he looked at his sister. She looked young for fifteen, round green eyes, and bright pink cheeks. Unlike her brother, she actually looked like she got a good night's rest most of the time.
"Couldn't sleep. Reapings, I guess," she shrugged, sitting down on the hardwood floor. Looking up at her brother, she continued to talk. "Lennox and Blaize say I have nothing to worry about- that someone would volunteer anyways, but it's still scary," she admitted. Virgil nodded his head. Thing is, probably nobody will. The Academies burnt down years ago, despite the mayor's pleas to the Capitol to retain the District Two training programs. Now, any rumor of training will land you in the stocks- or even worse, the whipping square, he rambled in his head, completely spaced out. Then, out of the blue, Rhea asked a question.
"What do you think?" Snapping forward, Virgil shook his head.
"Wait- what do I think about what?"
"What do you think the Games will be like this year?" she asked, triggering a smile out of him. I mean, if she wants to know…
"Well I've been thinking about that for quite a bit actually," Virgil began, before taking in a deep breath. "It's been seven years since the Capitol has gotten any entertainment, so the Gamemakers are gonna need to make these Games big, right? At least from an arena standpoint, they'll have to guarantee action. No more meadows and forests. 'Cause, what if they get a bunch of untrained and confused tributes? They can't have another 77th Games. Wait- do you remember that?"
"Not really-"
"Well, the arena was just a field of corn and farmland. Real basic stuff, as the economy was still recovering from the Mockingjay Rebellion." the boy continued, motioning with his hands as he spoke. Smiling, his green eyes began to fade as he spaced out and rambled. " The tributes, still uneasy from the Rebellion, tried making a peace pact, kinda like, before the third Quarter Quell. But this time, it worked. Ten whole minutes after the gong, and nobody died. The Capitol had to start using the trackers to blow tributes up to get them to fight each other. None of the books say it of course, but it got the worst rankings of any Games in history. Thirty whole days of just trying to coax the tributes into killing each other in some boring farm arena."
"So, what are you saying?"
"If the tributes this year won't kill each other, the Arena will," he stated plainly. Rhea nodded her head.
"Oh."
"But, don't be scared. I doubt you'll get Reaped. You're too young," he smiled. Contrary to her brother's expression, Rhea's face was dropped.
"I'm not really sure if I'm gonna be able to sleep after your spiel-"
"Just go to bed, Rhea," he said bluntly, raising his eyebrows at the girl as he quickly changed his expression. Mom and Dad will kill me if I keep her up all night again.
The younger teen slumped forward with a sigh before getting up. Slowly moving across the room, Virgil stifled a laugh. "Night, Rheaaa," he said with a slight shoo of his hand.
"I don't understand why I have to go to bed and you don't," she complained.
"Mom and Dad don't care if I become a run-down artist living in the Shambles. They do care if you do," he said with a giggle. Rhea laughed, shaking her head before she slipped out of the room. "It's the truth!" he shouted after her. He looked forward for a moment, smiling.
Shit… The tapestry, he remembered. Spinning around, he refocused on his work.
As he looked forward, the same wild energy hung about his eyes. The tapestry hung on the loom, a half-finished tableau. The color faded from his face. Fuck, he thought to himself. He glanced back at the missed warp thread. I could ignore it, but will the auctioneers? Those Capitol shlumps will take any mistake as an excuse to pay me as little as half of what it's worth- maybe even less, he scowled to himself.
"It's a cool piece, too," he muttered, hearing his little sister's bedroom door finally click across the house. He continued to look at his work, mind beginning to spin back into a vortex of artistic concentration.
The half-finished woven curtain of threads was currently just a blur of bright reds, hot yellows, and dark plumes of gray. Fire crawled up the edges of the image, intermingled with swirling smoke. Beneath the flames was the now unfinished image of the old Career Academy, the sandy yellow fortress complex that once housed the heart of Two. Now- it was just a sanctioned off pile of rubble that the main city couldn't even afford to clean up.
Virgil imagined what the tapestry would look like when finished; the concrete goliath up in flames as jeering crowds of good Capital supporting citizens cheered its downfall. Soldiers from Three would carry their flamethrowers and missile launchers, all with radiant, jovial smiles.
That's not how it happened, of course. More people died defending that sack of rock than in any other battle here in Two. When the main center erupted on flames, you could hear the wailing of the citizens who adored it, Virgil reminisced. He recalled hiding in his basement as the soldiers marched on the city, terrified that they might bomb his community as they did to countless others.
Virgil sighed, grabbing a bottle of painkillers before he settled back down and prepared to work till sunrise. He popped two of the tiny orange pills into his hand before throwing his head back and swallowing them dry.
But that's not the history being told, and so it won't be the history I'll weave.
PARIA CLAYMORE, 18, DISTRICT TWO, THE NIGHT BEFORE THE REAPINGS
Paria Claymore skidded across the ground like a frisbee thrown into the grass, head colliding with the earth. Her fingers dug into the cool damp soil, grasping for leverage. She groaned softly, rolling over onto her back. Obscured by the canopy of the hovering pine branches, the stars glowed dull against the deep blue sky.
"You're gonna have to do better than that, Paria!" her brother shouted across the clearing. The crushing of soil beneath his boots screeched proudly against the backdrop of chirping crickets and rustling trees. "How are you even gonna make it past the Bloodbath if that's the best you can do?" he mocked, his rough, stony voice near stereotyped to his bull-like iron build. Paria groaned sitting up.
"Fuck you, Geiss!" It doesn't even hurt that bad, jackass, she scrunched her face. Her creamy white skin shone with the moon's luster, like a marble statue with a mad spark in its stone eyes. "It was just a fudge-up! That's it! That's all!" she shouted as she stood up. Lazily running fingers up through her hair, clumps of mud fell from her blonde ponytail and onto her shoulders. I can do, it I can fucking do it, she told herself. Blood and adrenaline began rushing through her chest and body as she watched her brother come closer. She smiled.
"A fudge-up? Are you five? C'mon Paria- you're about to go into the Hunger Games! Let me hear the aggression! You're a warrior, not a little kid!"
"Fine! A fuck-up! You happy?" she exclaimed, stepping forward in her thrifted combat boots. Soles peeling and laces chewed away by rats, the boots were covered in deep scuffs and blotches of mud. They had been out for hours, the young woman having snuck out of her home after her parents went to bed. She stalked about into the alleyways of Two, a flickering flashlight her only guide through the now-lightless city. The darkness produced by the war had cradled the city's criminals. And Paria was no exception; training was illegal. She recalled Geiss's warnings the first time they ever left. "Never get caught. They find you training, and you'll be whipped. They find me training you, and I'll be shot on the spot."
But the girl pushed those thoughts from her mind. I have more important things on my plate, she reminded herself. She fought back an exhausted yawn. Fuck- I'll sleep in the Capitol. That's what Geiss said at least, she reaffirmed to herself. Blinking a few times, she asserted her energy towards the goliath edging through the clearing once again. Bring it on Geiss,
"Don't let your rage blind you, Paria!" Geiss instructed her, stepping closer until they were only a few feet apart. How cliche, she smirked. Geiss wiped the dripping of sweat from his brows with a stubborn grin carved onto his face.
"If you let that attitude get in the way, the Careers will never let you in."
"Can we just fight already?"
"Alright, alright- just never say I didn't warn ya," he laughed. Looking down for a moment, he brought his fists to his chest. Then, he swung. Surprised, Paria narrowly avoided the punch with a shallow dodge. He came at her again in a turbulent cloud of strikes. He hardly missed, his target attempting to get in a better fight posture. Fists up, weight forward- she began before one of Geiss's fists connected with her shoulder. Wearily, she stumbled back. Grabbing her shoulder for a second, the older boy launched at her again. Oh shit- she thought, attempting to weave between the blows. Geiss came to a slow stop, the speed of his onslaught melting away.
Geiss smirked, panting like a wild dog in the afternoon sun. Paria grabbed her shoulder once again. She exhaled sharply, hissing like a snake. Oh, I'll fucking get him for that, she laughed internally. Then, she shot at Geiss. She sprung at him like a large cat, attempting to plant her fists into his chest. She moved like a storm, her lightning limbs flashing around her target, uncoordinated and piercing. Wailing a final blow towards her brother's face, she felt something enclose on her wrist. Geiss's hand grabbed at her arm like a tightening handcuff. Then, he began to twist.
Paria stopped in her tracks, her body going limp with the pain. She gave up her weight into Geiss's grip, the muscular hand jerking her arm upward and twisting further. Paria began to scream in pain before Geiss's other hand slapped over her mouth. She stood up on her tippy toes, trying to alleviate the pressure on her bones.
"Do you want someone to hear you, Paria?" he taunted the writhing girl. This was discipline. Her feisty green eyes softened and her eyebrows pleaded in pain. Leaning forward, Geiss watched the beads of sweat form on her face. He began to whisper. "You have to learn to control yourself. If you don't learn to take your time, you will die," Without an ounce of sympathy, he twisted her wrist even further; if he went anymore, it would break. She whimpered, her eyes begging him to release. "I know it hurts, but so does a fucking knife to the gut," he near spat onto her face. He watched as the fear in her eyes slowly boiled into anger.
"I hope you know you're lucky right now. I'll be releasing you shortly. In the Games you'll get no such treat-" he started, before a sharp pain shot through his own hand. Paria began biting onto the hand latched over her mouth. Eyes bursting with rage, the girl's canines threatened to sink through layers of his calloused skin.
Geiss suppressed a shout, tearing his hand away. She laughed in victory, feeling her hand untwist from his grip. Looking up at him, she sneered, blind to the fist barreling towards her face. It connected with her eye with a dark smacking sound. Stumbling backward, she fell to the ground like a sack of wet concrete.
Her head hit the ground harder this time, a dull and immediate pain spreading through her brain like warm water. She cursed under her breath, tears leaking from her eyes. Her limbs slowly shifted under her body, wrists still glowing with dull aches. Every one of her cells screamed with pain.
"You know what?" Paria muttered from the ground, forehead pressing into a layer of brown pine needles.
"What Paria? Are you gonna cry now? In the Hunger Games, you won't have time to cry during battle. It's eat or be eaten Paria. Do you-"
"Fuck you, Geiss! Fuck you," she cried out, rolling over once again. It was like deja vu. Every fucking time I'm about to win, this assshole does something and throws me to the ground like I'm some dumb doll, she seethed. It's the same thing over and over and over. Start the fight, get so close to winning, and then hit rock bottom. Literally,
Paria sat up, pressing her good hand to her eye. The sight pulsed with the same reverberance of her heartbeat. Fuck- that's gonna be blue tomorrow, she seethed. Geiss held a hand out to her, a statuesque smile of victory plastered onto his pale chiseled face.
Pushing the hand away, the girl got up by herself, coming face to face with her brother. They shared many of the same features, the deep green eyes, the pale white skin, blonde hair, and jawlines that could cut steel. And yet she saw nothing of herself in him.
"I hope you learned your-"
"Shut the hell up, Geiss. I don't wanna hear any of it," she sputtered, one hand covering her eye and the other pointing firmly into his chest. "You can't fucking treat me like this," she hissed, looking into his face with one eye.
"Paria, I am trying to help you-"
"No- I don't wanna hear it," she spat. She stepped away from him, reminiscing on the things he had said to her during their fight. "I'm gonna fucking show you! Tomorrow, I'm volunteering, and I'm gonna win this thing- whatever it takes, and you'll fucking be forced to watch it," she exclaimed.
"Good! Then go prove it to me!" He egged her on, smiling at the hotheaded girl.
"I fucking will, Geiss! I fucking will," she yelled one final time before turning around and stomping off through the clearings, into the woods, and back home.
You'll be so fucking sorry, Geiss. I'll show you.
ADRIAN DAMAGE, CAPITOL APPROVED MENTOR, AFTER THE REAPINGS
"And I'll have a Bloody Mary, no olives please," Venus Seraphina purred to the Avox, dark eyes tracing up and down the silhouette of his body. The middle-aged man, groomed to be as featureless as the other Avoxes, simply nodded his head. Slowly turning around, he shuffled out towards the train's bar car, ignoring how Venus's clear three-inch acrylics clawed along the sleeve of the Avox's red jacket. She batted her lashes up at him expectantly.
Gross, Adrian Damage seethed to herself, subtly brushing her silky black hair out of her vision. Her sharp, gray eyes darted around the room, taking in quick succession the awkward glances her tributes shot towards the escort. Venus's own eyes trailed after the Avox (specifically his ass) as he made his way down the train car and towards the bar.
"What a delicious piece of man-"
"That will be enough, Venus," Adrian cut her off. I should have known she would be a distraction- should've left her to fend for herself back in Two, she commented to herself. Her nostrils flared. Venus pursed her deep nude lips and began tapping on the wood beneath the lace tablecloth. It would have been so easy to just leave while she was primping herself in the bathroom, Adrian thought to herself.
"Now," The mentor continued with a quick clearing of her throat. The two tributes looked her way, Paria directly on her right and Virgil across from her. Adrian had demanded that they be within immediate vicinity of her. Virgil fumbled with his tie awkwardly as Paria sat up straight in her seat, her red sundress flared out beneath her. Smart girl- trying to make an impression I see. Curious that she volunteered, though. I'll have to pry further on that later on. "Would you both like to introduce yourselves?"
And so, the first test begins.
"I'm Paria Claymore," the female tribute interjected almost immediately.
"Anything else?"
"I'm eighteen, and I'm gonna win these Hunger Games," she finished with a satisfied smile. Adrian reciprocated with her usual stony glare. I've heard that one before, she thought to herself. Nodding, she turned towards Virgil.
"And you?"
"Oh- me?"
"Yes, you."
"Oh," Virgil swallowed, sitting up taller in his chair. Purple bags hung under his hazel green eyes. Stoner? Adrian questioned silently, noticing his bloodshot eyes. She would have never been able to imagine the boy had been weaving tapestries all night instead of partying as most Two kids did before the Reapings. "I'm Virgil Callanch Bane, and I'm seventeen," he said with a limpid smile. He gulped hard.
The girl, Paria, likes the spotlight. The boy, Virgil, doesn't. I can work with that, she reaffirmed herself. Her pale hand stalked slowly across the table like a ghost, blue veins visible like tree roots under her near-transparent skin. Inching forward and further, her long white fingers grabbed a butter knife resting on the table. She gripped it tight. Glancing at Venus, she saw the young escort adjusting her nails. And now for the second test.
"So Paria, you think you're gonna win the Games right?"
"Hell yeah-" Paria began before Adrian swung the dulled knife towards her. Paria dove out of her chair, tumbling to the floor in a twisted ball of limbs. Venus looked up, saw the knife gripped in the mentor's hand, and screamed. The action continued, Adrian jumping out of her chair like a panther and stabbing downwards at the girl.
"Fuck!" Paria began to scream as the butter knife descended on her. The glinted metal stopped an inch short of her stomach, Adrian hovering over her. Her shiny black hair hung down over her face like a banshee. Cold eyes scanned over Paria, a smile plastered onto her thin, pink lips. Suppressing a giggle, she stood up, feet planted on either side of the tributes body.
"If that was the Games, you would have died." Adrian exclaimed.
"What the fuck was that?"
"A test."
"What the fuck is up with people and surprise ambushing me!?" Paria stuttered as Adrian slinked away from her and gracefully sat back in her chair. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her onyx pantsuit, eyes glued to Paria. The girl sat up, panting. "I hope you know that wasn't fair!" she stood her ground, fumbling to get up. Virgil awkwardly looked around, trying to make eye contact with Venus. He sunk farther into his seat.
"How was that unfair?" Adrian inquired.
"You surprised me!" Paria yelled back.
"You can and will be surprised in the Games."
"Well we aren't in the fucking Games," Paria spat, stepping in closer to Adrian. The blonde girl's face lit up cherry red, clean brows scrunching into a furrow of angry ridges. Virgil bit his lip, shaking his head at Paria. No one paid any attention to him.
"Yes we are, Paria," Adrian replied with a smirk. She delicately placed the silver butter knife back on the table, never breaking eye contact with the girl. Trembling, Venus looked around for the Avoxe with nervous eyes. "The Games began as soon as you volunteered," the woman continued. "The moment those cameras laid eyes on you, the Games began. True, the bloodshed won't begin for another week, but the days 'til then are just as important. These are the days to make friends, establish your enemies, and learn. Stay idle and you'll end up dead in seconds."
"You sunnuva-" Paria began, stepping further into Adrian. Then, the Avox stepped back into the room. He shuffled forward, a tray of drinks in his hand. The group was still, quiet but for awkward breaths. Pursing his lips, Virgil looked around the room. Venus tapped her nails on the table as the Avox sat down their drinks. Paria and Adrian looked at each other, the tribute girl simmering with rage. The Avox left, and the quiet persevered.
"What were you saying?" Adrian asked, grabbing a glass of water. She took a casual sip.
"Nothing," Paria said with a sigh. She collapsed back into her seat, tucking a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear. She bit the inside of her cheek, turning away from Adrian as she tried to muster a smile. She'll learn sooner or later. They all do, Adrian nodded to herself. She turned to face the table.
"And how about you? Would you like a challenge?" Adrian proposed to Virgil. The boy went white in the face, shaking his head slowly. The bags under his eyes seemed to way his chin down to the table. That boy needs to fix that posture.
"Oh, I'm alright if that's fine with you," he said with a faint smile. Adrian laughed internally, keeping her composure stony and rigid. She offered him nothing but a nod. Sighing, Venus pushed her drink towards Virgil. She adjusted the twirling pink straw to face him.
"Go on- take it. You're gonna need it," she said before sitting back in her own seat and giving a hard glare to Adrian. Swallowing hard, Virgil grabbed the drink and began aggressively sipping through the frilly straw. Adrian folded her hands in her lap and moved in closer to the table. Those gargoyle eyes flitted between her tributes as she made her final judgments on them.
A nervous wreck and an aggressive little rebel. What could possibly go wrong?
WE ARE 50% DONE WITH INTROS. I REPEAT, WE ARE HALFWAY THERE. THE ORDER NOW GOES; 3,9,11,6,8, THEN 12. I CHANGED THE ORDER SLIGHTLY TO ACCOMMODATE FOR CHRONOLOGY REASONS.
I'M SO EXCITED THOUGH! I really hope yall enjoyed this chapter and these characters; it was an absolute treasure to write and have fun with these characters. Thank you so much to Berrybush123 for Paria and timesphobic for Virgil. I really hope you enjoyed their portrayals- can't wait to return to these two later on!
And of course special shoutout to FlawlessCatastrophe for being the best beta a twink could ask for! Without her, I'd be still knee-deep in grammatical hell.
Till next time,
Xavi