Train Ride II
Congeniality
Nera Abbadelli
~17~
District 10
It's still quite a lot to take in. Several hours have passed since my name was read out for all of Panem to hear, I would have thought it would become easier with time. It would seem that if that were the case, then it must take quite a lot of time, because I feel no less uncertain and anxious then I did the moment I was Reaped. In all honesty, it didn't feel even the slightest bit real. It was as if I were acting out a dream . . . no - a nightmare. The way my feet felt rooted to the floor, that overwhelming feeling of trying to run away, yet something keeps you in place; it all added up to become the strangest yet most terrifying moment of my life.
I had always thought I would be better prepared, had my name ever been called out at a Reaping. There was always a secure feeling in the back of my mind, as whenever I contemplated the idea of it, I dismissed the possibility of ever needing to go up onto that stage.
I snort bitterly, narrowing my eyes at the train windows as the landscape rushes past in a blur.
How foolish were you? I scold myself. It's a selfish world out there, a world filled with empty promises and meaningless words. I indeed was certain I would never need to be worried about being Reaped, all thanks to my lovely twin sister Cecelia. We were always inseparable throughout our childhood, and up until today, things remained consistent. However, Cecelia was always the 'favorite' twin.
Everyone loved her more, even our own mother, who would never admit to it - but I didn't need confirmation to see the truth. It's not that people hated me or anything like that, it was always more of a 'stuck in her shadow' situation. I was always cast aside, forgotten, the second choice. It was tiresome at times, however it wasn't all bad; it was sometimes refreshing to be the quiet one.
On top of being people's favorite, Cecelia was traditionally better at most things than I was. She always seemed to excel in comparison to me, despite her denial in an attempt to remain humble. I chuckle slightly, shaking my head in amusement as I momentarily forget the current moment. After a moment or two, my frown returns, as I recall the words that she has repeated on many occasions, the very words that would give me the false sense of security I felt every Reaping until today.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, and squeeze my eyes shut as my misguided assumptions continue to haunt me. What might those assumptions be? What was the promise that Cecelia had drilled into my brain?
If I was ever to be Reaped, she promised that she would volunteer for me. Hilarious, I know - how ignorant could I be? It was nothing more than a sisterly promise, a hypothetical that I shouldn't have taken to heart. Why was I so blissfully unaware of the reality of what would happen, and more importantly, why was I selfish enough to expect her to do such a thing?
Perhaps it was because she was always the better 'me'. She is a more confident version of me, she is a better leader than I, she is even a better fighter; she would have been the better tribute, that's a fact as far as I'm concerned.
But we aren't Careers, I remind myself, as I bite my lower lip. My thoughts are truthful, just because Cecelia would be the better tribute, it doesn't mean she is inclined to volunteer for me like a Career would. It's my fault for assuming she was being outright truthful with her words, and now, I must accept my fate.
I cross my leg over the other as I sigh a deep breath, folding my arms in the process as I lean back into the sofa. Thinking back over my thoughts, I can't help but feel my forehead furrow in annoyance.
I'm a decent fighter too! Cecelia doesn't deserve all of my praise, I remind myself. I think back to our time spent at work, when we were bored on our breaks. Cecelia and I both work in a meat-packaging factory, as it is one of the most available jobs on offer. I wouldn't say we trained like a Career per say, however when we had the time, we would sneak into the freezer room filled with animal carcasses hanging from meat hooks. Using the tools they had in there, such as butchers knives, sickles, and meat cleavers, we would do target practice to pass the time, to shoot the shit per se; either by throwing knives at the meat, or pretending they were enemies to slash up close with our sickles.
I always thought it was silly at the time, especially when Cecelia would joke we were like the Careers for doing such a thing. I never saw it that way, I wasn't trying to be a better fighter, I just thought it was fun because we were bored.
Looking back on it now, perhaps it was beneficial to me after all. I'm by no means a trained fighter, but I sure as hell have some pretty significant experience with weapons; from both those moments of bored leisurely activity, and just the general work we had to do in that factory. Cecelia was always better at throwing the knives and hitting targets, but the one thing that I was prideful about, was the fact that I knew how to tear up flesh with a blade at close range.
I may not be a parallel match for a trained Career, but I can probably put up a solid fight . . . at least I hope.
"You know, I think that's the first time I've seen you crack a smile," a voice suddenly jolts me from my thoughts. Before I have time to question who it is, the tall handsome form of my District Partner, Alex Turner, suddenly pops into view with a warm smile on his face, before he sits on the chair directly in front of me.
"I - uh . . . were you watching me?" I question, struggling to get the sentence out as I'm still taken aback by his sudden appearance. Alex chuckles before he grabs a glass, pouring himself some ice-cold water from the jug beside it.
"I mean, not exactly, I just happened to glance at you when you did smile," he grins, a playful gleam flashing in his eyes. I can't help but return the smile, laughing in response as my concerns begin to recede slightly.
"Yeah well, I guess I was just reminiscing on some stupid memory," I mumble shyly, slightly embarrassed at being observed.
"Of course, I get it. I've been trying to think of . . . happier times as well," Alex responds with a sigh, as he stares past me as if he were deep in thought. I examine his face as he glances down at the ground with his soft blue eyes, a sad smile on his face as his forehead furrows in a melancholic fashion. This is the first time I've actually paid much attention to Alex since we were Reaped, I've been too focused on figuring out why my sister went back on her word, rather than trying to prepare myself for the inevitable and become acquainted with my new District Partner.
I should consider myself lucky that he has reached out to me at all; I'm not the most sociable in new situations so the chances of me doing it of my own accord were miniscule. However, there's something so warm about Alex, something wholesome. I can't really pinpoint it, but he seems to have a welcoming aura about him, like the kind of person you just want just to be around.
He glances back up at me, smiling again with a toothy grin that I can't help but lose my guard around, with my nerves feeling a lot more at ease. Moments after returning the smile, I suddenly freeze in a moment of realization. Perhaps that's what he wants me to think?
Cecelia was always the trusting one out of the two of us, and openly accepted new people to her group of friends. I on the other hand, introverted and shy, was always more wary - perhaps that's why people liked her more.
Nonetheless, I have to consider his attitude to be an act; it's a sure possibility. This guy did volunteer after all . . .
Alex seems to notice my sudden moment of apprehension, as his lips purse up in concern. He leans back for a moment, appearing to be unsure of how to approach me, which leads me to take the reins of the conversation.
"Why did you do it?" I ask softly, causing his head to perk up at the sound of my voice.
"Hm?" Alex responds, possibly not catching my question, or simply having been caught off guard.
"You volunteered, why'd you do it?" I repeat myself, this time being more specific. Alex is silent for the most part, thinking about my words as he stares down at the floor, possibly trying to figure out how he can answer best. Perhaps he knows I'm testing him - or he could just be genuinely troubled over the subject.
"I-I'm sorry if it's a bit of a sensitive topic," I speak up, a little concerned that I'm being too forward. "I know you said it was the chance of being able to provide a better life for your family, but you said it yourself on stage . . . that's a big gamble."
Alex nods his head, before looking at me once more, a sad smile on his face.
"No, you're right - I'm taking a very big risk," Alex sighs, leaning back with his fingers clenching his hair. He squeezes his eyes shut, as he groans what sounds like a regretful noise.
"I was so . . . conflicted. It felt like it was my last chance to win a better life for them, because we were on the brink of . . . no, it was impulsive on my behalf," Alex scolds himself, appearing distressed. I can't help but wonder what Alex meant exactly, the brink of what? I don't know Alex enough to continue pestering him about such a thing; so instead, I shake my head in disagreement.
"You're being too hard on yourself. It may have been just a little impulsive," I grin, with a small chuckle escaping my lips. "But you did what you thought you needed to do, that's a lot more valiant than many other people would be."
This appears to lift Alex's spirits a little, with his head nodding slowly in response at my justification for his actions. He sighs softly, before giving me a look of gratitude.
"Thanks Nera, I hadn't thought about it like that. I've sort of just been . . . bashing myself over it," he responds, a sad laugh following his words.
Well, I can't exactly argue that criticism isn't warranted over such a decision, I think to myself behind my comforting smile. He doesn't need to know that I disapprove over such measures, because if he is being genuine - and I'm pretty damn confident he is - if I want anyone that isn't me to make it home, it would be Alex.
"What's done is done right?" I respond with a shrug, causing him to snicker bitterly.
"I suppose so, all I can do is hope."
"So considering that you did volunteer, do you have anything you know . . . to help you get far?" I question, struggling to find the right words. Alex raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk arising on his face.
"Are you asking if I'm capable of killing?" He chuckles.
"Oh . . . I was thinking more along the lines of fighting, but yeah I guess killing as well," I add on. Alex takes a moment to think, before reluctantly responding.
"I can use a knife I suppose, I've had to resort to using one a few times, but I can't throw large weapons like spears or axes," Alex responds, not sounding very confident.
"Throwing weapons has never been my strong point, I always preferred to be close up," I agree absentmindedly, before my eyes widen in horror. I did not mean to let that slip. In a panic, I glance over at Alex, who looks at me in slight confusion, but mainly curiosity.
"If I didn't know any better, that makes you sound like you have weapons experience," he speaks up, his tone humored rather than accusatory.
"I - uh, forget I said anything," I reply dismissively, causing Alex to laugh hysterically.
"Come on, spill the beans - are you capable of fighting?" Alex questions, leaning forward in anticipation. I can't help but sigh, before begrudgingly confirming.
"Sort of . . . I have never professionally trained or anything, my sister and I would just spar when we were bored at work, nothing more," I say defensively, stifling a nervous giggle.
"Spar . . . each other?" Alex questions in amusement.
"Sometimes I guess, but not with actual weapons. We used those against our target practice."
"Target practice? What were the targets?"
"Dead animals, hanging on meat hooks," I respond nonchalantly. An expression of disgusted curiosity overcomes Alex, as he laughs in disbelief.
"What the fuck? Where did you work?" He cries out with a grin.
"In the meat packaging factory," I chuckle, causing a look of understanding to wash over Alex.
"Oh I see, well I guess any experience helps, right?" He smirks, causing me to nod in response.
"Yeah I guess you're right! Maybe my odds aren't so bad after all," I speak up excitedly. Alex smiles back, before falling silent for a moment, appearing to be contemplating a decision. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that our train of thought runs along the same tracks, because before Alex can speak up, I decide to be like Cecelia for once, and take initiative.
"Alex, are you looking for an alliance?" I prod quietly, causing his eyes to flicker over to me in surprise.
"Oh . . . um, well you took the words right out of my mouth really . . . do you want to ally with me?" Alex questions with uncertainty, perhaps the daunting thought of potential rejection plaguing his confidence. I scan over Alex up and down, although I have made up my mind already. Naturally, I was cautious of him at first, but following this conversation I don't think he's the deceitful type. I feel as if we have good enough chemistry, and I sure as hell need a reliable ally as much as he does.
I smile at him in response, before sticking out my hand for him to take in his own. Alex appears to relax a little, becoming quite cheerful as he takes my hand, and gives it a shake just as we did on the stage back in District 10. However, this time it wasn't as an acknowledgement of one another, but rather as a pact that will define our time spent in the arena.
"Allies," I confirm, the two of us beginning to grin at one another. Perhaps Cecelia volunteering for me was never what was destined to happen, maybe my fate was that I needed to come out of my shell . . . to become more like Cecelia.
Kirby Heyward
~12~
District 3
This should be fine. As long as I've got my brave face on, maybe I won't look like a completely hopeless train wreck? At this point I'm well equipped to put on such a face, after all - I think I've cried all the tears there were in me, I don't think I could produce more even if I wanted to.
It was as soon as I got on the train, I couldn't sustain my facade any longer; boiling hot tears brimming in my eyes, threatening to flood down my cheeks in broad view of both my Escort and Didgit, my District Partner. My Escort - I think her name was Ellie - she seemed a little more oblivious to what was flowing through my mind, as she actively cried out after me in confusion as soon as I fled away, trying to locate a private place where I could breakdown. My stifled sobs followed me down the hallway that I found myself in, as I blindly crashed through a door and slammed it shut, before collapsing on to an admittedly extravagant bed. My face found the pillow, where I released a wail so horrific, that had I not blocked my mouth with a pillow, I'm sure all of Panem would have heard me.
There I lay for hours, sobbing and sniffing as I was forced to come to terms with the fate that has fallen upon me, the realization that I was going to die. What did I do to deserve this? I'm being punished because of what people did a century ago, a war that was and would be today wildly out of my control. That's the logic of it of course, but I can't expect the Capitol to see things from my perspective, I can't expect them to care.
In the past, some prominent Capitolite figures have dared to speak out about the ethics of forcing children younger than fifteen to participate in the Hunger Games, which does go to show that not all of them are bloodthirsty monsters. Yet, those same people would always vanish, with little comments from the Capitol Government other than their 'condolences' for the missing public figures. Well, at least that was during the reign of Coriolanus Snow . . . Caroline Snow is a much different story on the surface.
As I sit up on the bed, I catch a glance at myself in the mirror adjacent from me. My eyes are still red, my face puffy from crying and my expression vacant of emotion. I no longer feel distraught, I've released all the pent up emotion I had in me - now I feel empty. I look down at my reflections body, seeing the scrawny stature that I've always possessed, and not being able to help but produce a scowl.
My small, weedy body is the exact reason the Capitol has never back flipped on their stance of having young teenagers forced into the Games. Aside from consistency and authority, they have one other consideration in mind, and I know all too well about what that is.
Fodder. Cannon fodder to be exact. People like me - younger kids or people malnourished and weak - we are essential for the Games so that the Capitol audience get their fix of bloodshed. Typically, that sort of lingo isn't particularly used when the media discuss the lesser of the competition, as there is the unspoken implication that a Fodder Tribute is simply there to make the numbers, without any real chance of making it out alive. People like me are normally named as 'Bloodbath Tributes', tributes that are likely to not escape the commencement of the Games. I suppose people that use the name Bloodbath Tribute feel as if it's a little more appropriate than calling a tribute something that implies they're there to fill a death quota. At least being named a Bloodbath Tribute suggests that you have a chance of making it out, albeit a low one.
Sighing, I look down at my lap, twiddling my thumbs as my panicked thoughts continue to dwell on me. I should be outside with my Mentor right now, strategizing and working out how the hell I'm going to get out of this situation. I've been here for a few hours now, and so far nobody has come to see me, but can I blame them? Who would want to witness a twelve year-old boy breaking down over the fact that he is going to die? I may be young, but I'm not stupid.
Contrary to my previous thoughts of solitude however, a short while later I am disrupted by a brief knock on the door. My eyes focus on the locked door, as I try to subtly sniff in order to clear my sinuses.
"Hello?" A soft voice travels from behind the door, sounding quite feminine and apprehensive. "Kirby, was it?"
I quickly rub my eyes, trying to get rid of any lingering evidence that I had been bawling my eyes out for hours, before replying in a shaky and embarrassingly high pitch.
"Y-yeah - it's Kirby."
There's a short period of silence, before the voice continues trying to speak to me.
"It's Didgit, your District Partner . . . am I able to come in?" She questions, as if speaking to an infant. I can't help but feel a flash of anger due to her tone, feeling as if this girl is patronizing me. Does she think I'm so helpless that she needs to baby me? Does she feel inclined to console me just because she's older? I'm almost a teenager; I would have thought that would warrant at least a little respect.
The deeper I think about it, the more suspicious I grow, with a flurry of possibilities beginning to spiral through my mind as to why Didgit has arrived at my door. Perhaps it's all a ruse, an intention to build up my trust before betraying me the first chance she gets. I probably look like an easy target, but that doesn't mean I have to make it easy for her.
"Why?" I call out to her, my tone a little stronger than before. "Are you here to groom me for an easy kill? I know how this goes!"
I glare at the door awaiting a response, feeling the adrenaline pulsating through my body. One of the most essential rules of the Games, is to trust nobody; not even District Partners. The silence that follows my accusation only reinforces my beliefs - that is until Didgit's voice becomes audible once again.
"Well for starters . . . this is my assigned room," Didgit responds, the hint of a giggle present in her words. Her response makes my body tense up, with my eyes widening as I recollect my half-blinded stumbling into the room a few hours ago. I hadn't paid attention to which room I was entering through my dreary vision, I must have accidentally crashed through the door of Didgit's room. She could have been waiting for a while for me to leave so that she could go in . . .
"Oh," is all I can manage to reply, the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment beginning to flood through my body, with the pink from puffy post-crying face now transferring to my cheeks in a blush. I hastily get off of the bed, before stepping towards the door and unlocking it with my head lowered in shame. It slowly swings open to reveal Didgit's petite physique, and her pretty face contorted in an expression that suggests both amusement and understanding.
I suddenly feel quite exposed, struggling to meet her gaze as I mumble an apology to her. Didgit produces a warm smile, one that puts me in a surprising state of ease - perhaps the most ease that I have felt since I heard my name escape the lips of Ellie at the Reaping.
"It's okay Kirby, I'm not here to hurt you - or groom you as you put it," Didgit assures me, as she steps past me and scans the room with her amber tinted eyes. Her eyes rest on the mess of a bed, caused by my own hand, before I clear my throat and make the effort to speak up.
"I uh . . . may have taken out some frustration," I admit, motioning towards the strewn bed covers and misplaced pillows.
"There's no need to explain, I understand," Didgit replies, beginning to straighten the covers and tidy the bed. She glances at me once more, her face soft and friendly.
"The others wanted to check up on you, but I wasn't sure if you would be ready to speak with them. I figured you might have wanted to see someone like me first, someone who can relate," she speaks up, before sitting on the bed and patting the vacant spot next to her, encouraging me to sit beside her. When I think about it, she isn't wrong. Ellie and Newton, they would only look at me piteously, like the lost cause that I could very well be. At least with Didgit, she's the very same as me, a person stolen from their family, their home, and cast into a world of death and cruelty, to be cheered on like animals as people murder one another. Newton may have been a tribute once upon a time, but he is through the rough, he won and he is safe. In many ways, I'm sure he has long forgotten what it was like to be a tribute who had just been Reaped.
Despite my initial apprehension to trust Didgit, I grow more comfortable around her by the second. Could it be ignorance? Naivety? Am I just plain stupid? Or maybe, I should just go along with it, and try not to cast away who could potentially be the only person to show me kindness in these Games.
With this in mind, I sit beside Didgit, looking down at the floor in silence as she continues to glance around the room.
"It's pretty incredible, isn't it? The extravagance, the cutting edge tech - it's a shame that we're here only under such terrible circumstances," Didgit sighs, frowning as she glances down at the floor. I hadn't taken the time to properly take in the riches of the room in my frenzied state, but now that she mentions it, she isn't wrong. It's every tech geeks dream, the automations and various functions of the room that I can spot on the control panel; they're enough to keep one occupied for ages. I wouldn't consider myself to be particularly knowledgeable about technology, considering that I am still early in my studies. However, belonging to District 3, I've still managed to develop a somewhat understanding of how to use basic technology - well at least more of an understanding than tributes from other Districts.
"I can only imagine what it will be like in the Capitol, this is only a train after all," I point out, causing Didgit to glance my way and smile.
"I was never exactly . . . struggling back in District 3, but even I'm not used to this," Didgit comments, snorting an exasperated laugh. It takes a moment for her words to register, before my eyes widen when it dawns on me who Didgit actually is.
"Oh! You're from the Lancaster family, aren't you?" I speak up, causing Didgit to raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk growing on her face.
"Yeah I am, not that it's done me any favors here," she chuckles, putting a leg up on the bed to face me.
"I-I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been rude to you befo-"
"There's nothing to be sorry for," Didgit holds up a hand to cut me off, before turning to face me fully. "I'm not special just because I come from a family of Elites . . . if anything I'm probably the runt of my family."
Didgit's expression displays bitterness with her words, however I can see the slivers of sadness in her gaze, enough to help me understand who she is.
"That's not true," I reply softly, provoking a chuckle from Didgit.
"I can assure you it is, but there's no need to worry!" Didgit suddenly beams, before springing up off of the bed. "Because in a week or two, I'll either be their prodigy Victor child, or I'll be dead without a care in the world!"
The two of us chuckle at the comment, however the bitter reality of what it entails envelopes me, causing me to need to resist the urge to frown. I sigh, staring once again at the reflection of myself in the opposing mirror. I want to be strong; I want to prove myself to all the people that have already written me off just from my age. However, I don't even know if I have it in me.
As I glance back at Didgit, she observes me as many others have - but something is different about her stare. I can't help but smile at her, a hum of nervous laughter managing to escape my lips.
"Why do you look at me like that?" I ask with apprehension, yet a mild amount of curiosity. Didgit raises an eyebrow in question, appearing curious by my words.
"What way would that be?" She replies.
"You don't look at me like I'm a baby, like I'm a hopeless kid that is here just to die," I point out, lowering my gaze in embarrassment. "All I've seen since I've been Reaped are people looking at me in pity, making sure to look away when I notice them staring at me. You don't do that though."
Didgit shrugs her shoulders with a friendly smile, before patting me on the back in a sisterly manner.
"Kirby, I know what it's like to be cast aside, left in the shadows, overlooked by others because they think of you as lesser than them. It's when you start letting their beliefs alter your own, that those perceptions truly start to take hold," she exclaims.
"So, what you're saying is . . ." I speak up, trying to grasp her message. Didgit lightly grabs my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze of reassurance.
"What I'm saying is, I know there's more to you than what can be seen on the surface, and the more that you believe that, the more you can say 'fuc-' - I mean, 'screw you' to those that underestimate you," she smiles. Maybe she has a point . . . I've felt pretty hopeless ever since I was Reaped, and the way people have looked at me and treated me like someone on deaths doorstep certainly hasn't helped. In saying that though, I don't even know how the hell I'm meant to act stronger, or more confident.
"Well how can I prove to those people? How can I show them?" I question softly. Didgit steps away from me, appearing to head towards the door, however she stops for a moment, turning her head just enough to make eye contact with me.
"If you're concerned that who you are makes you look too weak, pretend to be someone else," she suggests, shrugging a little before turning and continuing to the door. "When you're feeling up to it, you should come out into the main carriage, to meet Newton. Leizi also came along, I'm sure she'll love to meet you as well."
Didgit disappears alongside her words, leaving me alone with my own thoughts as I contemplate what she has suggested.
"So I should pretend to be someone I'm not?" I question myself through a whisper. I suppose she could be on to something, maybe if I act like I'm strong, people won't be as quick to dismiss me. What was the saying? Something along the lines of 'fake it until you make it'?
For the first time since my name was called during the Reaping, I smile to myself, as I reach into my back pocket for something that I hope is still there.
"There you are," I breathe a sigh of relief, as my fingers grip onto the folded and creased paper of what I had been reading prior to the Reaping. I bring the paper to my lap, proceeding to unfold and smooth it out, with the colors and artwork popping with exuberant life. It's an old, old, type of book, from long before the birth of Panem. They called them comic books, and although the true original ones are very hard to come by, there is a niche category of reprinted issues in the District 3 library that not many people know, or likely care about.
I find them therapeutic to read; they're like an escape from the world we live in today. My days are filled with reading about brave heroes, evil villains, and superpowers beyond my wildest imagination.
I examine the front cover, admiring the artwork of my favorite superhero of all, Superman. The way he's depicted flying on the cover - confident, charismatic, victorious - that's how I want to feel. It's as I stare into his electric blue eyes, and my eyes glance over the powerful House of El 'S' symbol on his chest, that I truly realize who I want to pretend to be.
I stuff the comic book back into my pocket as I leap up from the bed, likely creasing it in the process. No matter, I'll be able to afford thousands of them by the time I make it back home, because I'm going to win! I'm going to be like Superman, a hero . . . and heroes don't lose.
Cinder Halloway
~16~
District 4
"Helloooo?" My voice bounces off of the hallway walls, as the continuous rapping of my finger joints on the door occupy the otherwise silent portion of the train carriage. I stop knocking momentarily, only in order to see if anything is audible from the other side, however it quickly becomes apparent that there is no immediate response.
"For fucksake," I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes as I reach up to the door again, with my movement quickly followed by another round of flurried knocks that should be enough to draw anyone's attention.
"Ophiuchus, can you just open the door? Now is not the time to cry!"
It has been several hours since we boarded the train, both Ophiuchus and I, as the two of us were accompanied by our Escort. I had been taking it all in, appreciating the moment as was what I have been working so hard to achieve my whole life. Of course, my trepidatious father thought I was too premature, he thought I should have waited until I am eighteen - but what does he know? He has always been weak, a pushover; if it weren't for my mother, we would be nowhere.
Call me impatient, but I know I'm ready, and I am going to enjoy every damn moment from the second I volunteered, to the moment I shove my machete through the throat of the last tribute. Naturally, I met our mentor, Amphitrite, alongside Ophiuchus where we introduced ourselves and gave her a good idea of what we are capable of.
Except . . . it was all me. Ophiuchus might as well have not been there, he barely said a word from the moment he entered the car back in District 4, up until he excused himself to retreat to his quarters.
It's not the best sign admittedly. A District Partner who has little interest with what's going on is not exactly going to be ideal with cohesion, meaning I'm going to have to work extra hard. See, I have a vision for how I want these Games to play out. I've watched countless Hunger Games of the past, I've gone through various strategies and history lessons back in the academy; I know what it takes to win, and in order for that to happen, everything needs to play out exactly the way I want.
The first thing, I'm a Career tribute, and a damn proud one. However, more often than not, when the Career's aren't a cohesive group, it leads to their downfall. I can't afford any of the traditional Career tributes to drop off, not when I know they're capable - and I absolutely know Ophiuchus is capable.
I remember him from the Academy back in District 4, albeit pretty vaguely. He had been quite promising in his earlier teen years, however he quit to the surprise of many, claiming that it was not a life for him, and opting to live more freely and simply with a life on the ocean.
That's what is missing from him now, that pride of being a Career, that killer instinct that will help us to thrive in the arena. It's in my best interest to get him to change his mind, and although there was once a time where I'm sure it would've been impossible, the fact that he has been Reaped is sure to alter his outlook on the Hunger Games. His survival instincts are bound to kick into gear.
However, already it is proving to still be difficult. Due to his confinement to his room, I can only assume he is still coming to terms with what has happened, and his lack of a response to my calls clearly suggests he isn't in the mood to talk.
My mind flashes back to when we were both on stage, with the friendly smile he showed me as we shook hands. I had squeezed quite hard out of habit, a way of trying to assert myself over most new people, as they always tend to overlook me. However, as a result this probably intimidated him more than I would've liked further forming a wedge between us. I frown at the memory, scolding my past self at the decision to do so. I should've at least played friendly at first, I may be an asshole but acting like one isn't going to strengthen my bond with a friendly person like Ophiuchus.
Perhaps I try a different approach? Maybe I should flatter him, flirt with him a little, I know I'm good-looking so this could certainly be an option. With this in mind, I knock loudly once more, impatience beginning to get the better of me, however still wanting to get on good terms.
"Come on Ophiuchus, I'll make it worth your while!" I call out, sighing in exasperation. To my surprise, it only takes a few moments after I've spoken before the door swings open, revealing a rather irritated Ophiuchus behind it, with eyes that struggle to hide the pain of what he is going through. The hurt still appears apparent on his face, and as my eyes scan his towering body, I can't help but notice the raw grazes on his balled fists, with a couple dribbles of blood emitting from a select few of his knuckles.
For a moment I step back, alarmed by the apparent harm he has inflicted upon himself through what I can only assume was frustration relief. I'm the one that has been annoying him for the past few minutes, would it be out of the realm of possibility for him to strike me?
Ophiuchus seems to notice my gaze on his injured fist, before he coughs and hides his hand behind his back, allowing both of us to glance at each other.
"Uh, is your hand alright?" I question, opting to address the injury.
"Yeah, yeah... I may have gotten a bit carried away..." he trails off, opening the door a little more to reveal a dint that has been punched into the wall separating the bathroom and his bedroom. I cringe at the damage, imagining the pain his fist may be experiencing as a result.
"Ouch, that must have hurt," I speak up, taking a step closer to him. He shakes his head bitterly, tsking as he reveals his hand once more, and glaring at it angrily.
"In hindsight, it was really fucking stupid. Now that puts me at a disadvantage - as if I already wasn't against Careers that have been training consistently the last several years," he mumbles, the self-doubt dripping heavily from his voice. I gaze at him for a moment, considering how I should approach this. If I'm to try and seduce him to have any control over him, now is probably the best time to do so. He is hurting, he is lacking in confidence, and all he needs is a little push.
I take another step towards him, this time causing us to only be a few inches apart, before I carefully reach out towards his injured hand, taking it softly in mine and bringing it closer to my face. Ophiuchus' eyes widen in confusion, his mouth becoming agape as he begins to work out what is going on.
"Don't you worry about it, how about you let me... take care of you?" I suggest, before bringing his hand to my face and preparing to press my lips to it. However, before I manage to pull this off, Ophiuchus' face contorts into one of anger, as he abruptly rips his hand from my own and shields it away as if I was going to attack him.
"What the fuck!?" I cry out in anger, putting my hands on my hips and glaring at him. He does the same to me, although his gaze is filled more so with surprise and bewilderment.
"I could ask you the same thing. What the hell are you doing?" He replies, his voice shrill with confusion.
"I thought it was pretty clear what I was doing! What's the issue?" I snort back, shaking my head in disbelief.
"Well first off I only just met you," Ophiuchus points out, causing me to roll my eyes.
"Oh please, we only have a week before the games start, that's only so long to live a little," I retort. Ophiuchus takes a deep breath, his face calming and no longer appearing annoyed, before he opens his eyes again and continues on.
"Secondly, I have a girlfriend, Cinder," he says softly. My eyebrows drop a little, as does my demeanor when I put two and two together. I can't help but take a step back, feeling slightly guilty for having put him in that position.
"Oh... I should have thought about that," I murmur, no longer meeting his gaze. Ophiuchus chuckles for the first time, waving his hand once in the air dismissively.
"Don't worry, as long as we've got that point across now," he smiles, before turning towards the bed and plonking down on it with a sigh. "My girlfriend, Monica - she's pregnant apparently."
My eyes widen at the news, my feelings for Ophiuchus' situation beginning to turn to that of anguish. I step into the room, closing the door behind me as I fold my arms.
"Well that's quite the bombshell to drop on me," I scold him, my voice barley above a whisper. He snickers at my words, a sad sort of bitterness identifiable in his demeanor.
"I said the same thing to Monica, she only told me when she said goodbye at the Justice Building," he shakes his head, hands gripping his knees as he sits on the bed. I can't help but pinch the bridge of my nose, resenting the situation I've been put into here. I only came here to try and get Ophiuchus on board with the Careers, but instead I've gotten his sob story - and it's actually working.
God dammit, I think to myself as I put a hand on my hip and glance at him once more.
"I-I'm so sorry Ophiuchus," I speak up. He laughs at my words, shrugging in unison.
"I mean, you have nothing to be sorry for. What can you do?" He points out. This time it's my turn to smile, as I fold my arms once more and raise my eyes to his.
"Well... I can think of one thing," I reply softly, causing him to raise an eyebrow.
"What would that be?" He asks curiously.
"Join me. Join us. Become a Career," I suggest. Immediately, Ophiuchus' spirits begin to dampen again, his shoulders slouching as a grimace becomes apparent on his face. It takes a moment for him to say anything, and when he eventually does, it isn't promising.
"Oh."
"Oh? That's all you can manage to say?" I question, my voice now a little more authoritative. "Not to mention, I think that was the most unenthusiastic 'oh' that I've ever heard!"
"That would be because I'm not enthusiastic about the idea. I don't like the idea of the Careers, why do you think I left the Academy all those years ago?" Ophiuchus points out. "They're bloodthirsty killers who are usually terrible people - look at Romulus from last year."
I raise an eyebrow at his words, before feeling a scowl form on my face.
"So you're saying that I'm inherently like that? Just because I'm a Career?" I challenge him. Ophiuchus thinks for a moment, likely choosing his words carefully, before finally forming a response.
"Well in all honesty Cinder, I don't really know you that well, I have no idea what you're like," he says softly.
"Exactly! Are you going to base your judgment of all Careers over some bad past Careers? Because I can tell you Ophiuchus, I didn't volunteer because I'm a 'bloodthirsty killer'. I volunteered, because I've been trying all of my life to win," I inform him. Ophiuchus doesn't have much to say to this, in fact at this point he looks deep in thought as my words begin to sink in.
"We need numbers Ophiuchus, and you're in a unique position that not many other tributes are in; you're already from a Career District, instantly qualifying you as a member. It would be a shame to waste that opportunity out of blind hate and pride," I continue softly.
"But what if I could win without having to stoop to that level, without becoming what I abandoned already," he whispers, appearing heavily divided. I can't help but allow my grin to form; all he needs is that little push over the edge.
"Ophi - you said you preferred to be called that, right? - if I'm being completely honest, your best bet of winning is likely through joining the pack. If you hate the Careers that much, do it not for yourself, but for your girlfriend, and your child," I speak up, trying to appeal to his weaknesses. Ophiuchus' response is to lean forward with his hands rubbing his face, sighing heavily as he appears to give in to the idea of it. Now it's time for that icing on the cake.
"Besides, if you really hate some of the other Careers that much, it'll only make it easier for you to kill them later on. Call it easy access," I shrug my shoulders. Ophiuchus looks up, a burning drive hidden in his eyes as he glances at me whilst biting his lip indecisively.
"I think you might have a good point," he responds quietly, before standing abruptly, with his tall frame towering above me once more. "You've given me something to think about, I guess I'll reserve judgment until I've seen the other Careers."
I smile at Ophiuchus, before aiming my thumb behind my shoulder to motion towards the door.
"Speaking of... the Reapings are going to replay on the TV any moment now, do you want to come and look at who we're up against?" I question with a playful smirk. This time, Ophiuchus returns the smirk, a determined expression now set upon his face.
"I guess if I want to make it back home, I should start getting to know my competition," he accepts, leading me to smile at him before heading towards the main carriage where Amphitrite awaits us.
I honestly thought Ophiuchus would require a lot more manipulation to get him to do what I want, but perhaps I can get him on the same page through far less. As far as I'm concerned, I could even consider him a close ally, or better yet... a friend.
Burton Hansen
~14~
District 9
Silence. Finally, after so long, after the constant bickering, the eternal insults, I am finally away from Terra and Millet. I sigh in relief, relishing the quiet space as my back sinks backwards into the soft, cushiony bed. I never thought it would end; the introductions, the strategizing, all of it constantly delayed by the interruptions from Millet, and only worsened by Terra snapping back and trying to shut him down.
Honestly, I felt bad for Terra - at least she was trying to assist us. Millet seemed far too concerned about making himself seem better than Terra. I had always respected Millet by recognizing him as a Victor, but after today I can't picture him as anything other than arrogant and abrasive.
However, if there was someone I felt more sorry for than others, it was Amaryllis. The poor girl, younger than even myself at thirteen years old, the last thing she needed was our Mentor - or should I say Mentors plural - bickering and chastising one another. I think back, and am unable to recall a single moment where she spoke, the entire time she had sat trembling, eyes widened and skin perspiring quite abundantly as if she was on the verge of having a panic attack on multiple occasions.
I was tempted at several moments to attempt to break the tension, and try and loosen her up with some wildly inappropriate jokes based on whatever the topic at the time may have been, however I did catch myself short, having been made aware of my habit of doing so before I left District 9. I think back to what my mom and Jit, my stepfather, had told me - keep my head down, stay out of the limelight, fade into the background.
I smirk to myself, shaking my head with a small snort emitting from my nose. Doing that is nothing I'm new to. I learnt my lesson after I started middle school, my habit of behaving opposite of what I should be in certain scenarios was picked up quite quickly by my schoolmates. I'll be the first to admit, I was bullied for it. I became known as a buzzkill, and soon I learnt to become invisible, and focus on what mattered - my studies.
Soon enough, the bullies of my year dropped out to work in the wheat fields, something that I only did shift work for on occasion. I had no intention of dropping out to work the rest of my life in the wheat fields, and once they were gone, my studies were blissful. I made sure not to make the same mistakes, I flourished in my academics, and I remained under the radar.
That was of course, until today, the day I was Reaped for the Hunger Games. I've learnt my lessons, and have already implemented the same strategy into this game; remain under the radar, and float to the end while every other tribute tears each other apart. I know how to survive in the wild; my District is so rural that most of it could be considered 'the wild'. I also know how to be evasive; I had to learn to outrun the bullies back in school.
I may be young, but as long as I'm not a target, and don't put myself in harms way, I could be okay for the time being. With this in mind, I rest my head against the bed frame, closing my eyes as I continue to enjoy the peace and quiet that I had sought for so long.
However, just as quickly as I had enjoyed it, it's immediately taken away from me. A couple of rapid knocks against my bedroom door jolt me in surprise, giving no time for wondering who is the source of the knocks.
"Burton, it's Terra. The Reaping recap is about to start, you should come out and watch it with us to see who your competition is," Terra calls out, causing me to groan in frustration.
"Watch it with who?" I reply with skepticism.
"Don't worry, I promise Millet won't be there. I made sure he is occupied so we can actually focus," she informs me through the door, amusement evident in her tone. I snort, before pushing myself off of the bed.
"Alright, I'll meet you out there," I sigh, before I hear Terra's footsteps drift further away back to the main carriage.
"Great, I can't wait to see these monstrous tributes that I'm going to have to somehow outlast," I grumble, before pushing open the door. Initially my eyes are lowered towards the floor, however that quickly changes when from the top of my field of vision, I see the door opposite me swinging open. My head immediately looks up, causing me to lock eyes with Amaryllis. We stare at each other for a moment, with Amaryllis looking like a deer caught in headlights, and myself biting my lower lip at the awkwardness of the situation.
Neither Amaryllis or I have spoken much to each other at all, in fact I think we have made it our own synchronized mission to avoid each other at all costs. She was quick to escape to her room once we both realized that Terra and Millet appeared to prefer arguing with one another rather than guiding us, and understandably she hasn't made it her goal to approach me. This would be the first time either one of us have been alone with each other.
The frown on Amaryllis' face suggests she certainly isn't happy about the fact, so to put her at ease, I cough into my closed fist before breaking the ice.
"Look, we don't have to do this. I can keep my distance, and we can do our own separate thing," I murmur, scratching the back of my head as she recoils slightly in surprise.
"Oh," she squeaks, appearing taken aback. "Um, thanks... how did you know I wanted that though?"
I smile softly at her, before taking a step out of the doorway towards the main carriage.
"I can read people pretty well, plus I plan on doing the same thing anyways. As long as you leave me alone, I will be happy to leave you alone as well," I reply, before continuing onwards and leaving Amaryllis staring at me from behind with her mouth agape.
I'm glad I could establish that nice and early, I praise myself as I enter the main carriage. Amaryllis follows me silently from behind, as we both meet the gaze of Terra, who sits with a leg folded over the other, and piercing eyes attempting to appear approachable. That's understandable, both Amaryllis and I are quite young, and Terra usually has a pretty stony and intimidating attitude to her. I can at least appreciate the attempt to make us feel comfortable.
"Ah, you're both here! Come, come, it's about to start!" Terra exclaims, patting the cushiony surface of the sofa to implore us to sit beside her. I sit on the cushion beside Terra, whilst Amaryllis seats herself on the other section of the L-shaped sofa, folding her arms and turning her body to face the large screen that opposes us all.
"Now I want both of you two pay close attention to who you see Reaped from the other Districts, some of them will be dangerous, but others can be great candidates for allies - this is where I started to scope out my alliance group from," Terra informs us, looking down at the ground momentarily with a frown embedded on her face, seemingly at the memory of her fallen comrades. I suppress the urge to laugh at the idea of allies; poor Terra has no idea that I - and likely Amaryllis - have no intention of allying up with the other tributes.
"The threats should be easy to identify, I tend to have a knack for avoiding violent people," I point out, causing Amaryllis to eye me with suspicion for a moment.
Why did she do that? Does she think I'm dropping hints that I'm some deranged murderer hiding in plain sight?
I shake my head slightly, trying to get the thought out of my head. I'm clearly overthinking things, something that can be dangerous considering the situation I'm in. It's a good thing to never underestimate what the Games may throw at you, but it's also a good idea to not spiral into paranoia from such minor things. Who cares what Amaryllis thinks of me? As long as she keeps her distance, everything will be okay.
"That's certainly going to help you then Burton, especially when we get through these first couple of Career District Reapings - oh here we are, it's starting," Terra exclaims, turning up the volume of the TV from a screen that rests embedded into the arm of the sofa. The three of us turn to the screen, with the Capitol seal flashing across the screen accompanied by the distinctive tune of the Panemian Anthem. The program only plays the first verse of the anthem, before the big letters of 'District 1', accompanied by their traditional District seal, are displayed. I take a deep breath, preparing myself to focus on every single one of these tributes through a quick and brief assessment.
The first tribute is the girl from District 1, Vienna Lathing according to their Escort. She volunteers without issue, and despite making her way up in a more reserved fashion, I can't help but allow my jaw to drop at the beauty of her. I frown shortly after, catching myself before I make my attraction obvious, but not before I need to reposition myself to relieve the growing discomfort located within my pants.
"It doesn't matter how attractive she is, she's still an enemy. She won't hesitate to kill me," I mutter under my breath, thankfully without notice from either Terra or Amaryllis. I continue to read her, this time looking past her beauty and trying to grasp at who she is as a person. It's no surprise that District 1 continues to be the most genetically gifted in the looks department out of the Districts, but my question is, why does Vienna cover up her beauty so much? The clothes she wears aren't extravagant or skimpy like many others in the crowd; in fact it looks like she has gone to the effort to cover up any bit of skin on her.
"She'll be popular with sponsors," Terra speaks up. I nod my head in affirmation; it almost goes without saying at this point.
Shortly after, the next tribute comes forward in the form of another volunteer, with a surname I recognize as being the same as a past tribute from District 1. Shortly after the boy reaches the stage, their Escort confirms my realization when she asks him the question - it turns out Adonis Lockheart is the younger brother of Sienna Lockheart, a Career tribute that died a few years ago. Adonis is tall, muscular, and also has District 1's defining quality of attractiveness. If I had to admit, he looks ten times more intimidating than I remember Sienna being. It's a safe bet to say that Adonis is a sure threat in this Hunger Games.
"Those two are easily Careers, watch out for them," Terra insists.
I'm way ahead of you Terra.
District 1's Reaping quickly wraps up, and before I know it, the screen is already displaying the famous District 2 seal, one I see quite often due to their sparse amount of Victors. Terra begins to lean forward, whilst Amaryllis appears to hold her breath, eyes wider than usual out of a likely fear of what's to come. Both of them know, District 2 tributes are almost always the biggest threats of the arena.
Kicking things off, a girl strides forward to volunteer with absolute confidence, and when she reaches the stage we are quick to learn that her name is Andromache Poyner. She's as pretty as she is fierce, and already I can gather the assumption that she will be towards the top of the Career Pack hierarchy. She is an easy one to label, she's a threat.
Next is an apparently controversial volunteer, one that I don't quite understand how it is so, but regardless I can sense the heavy competition between the volunteers. It is District 2 after all; I expect nothing less. Ultimately, the boy that is the first to utter the words "I volunteer", is the one that I see standing on stage after a few moments, a boy named Thanatos Elegia. His physique is intimidating, and his demeanor is serious - if I had to pick someone that I am the most terrified of so far, it would be Thanatos. He is undoubtedly a threat.
"Some serious competition from Two, Cato would be happy," Terra comments.
"How the hell are we meant to kill these type of people?" Amaryllis speaks up, for what feels like the first time. Both Terra and I glance over at her in surprise, before Terra focuses back on the TV with only a few words in response.
"Numbers. You're stronger in numbers."
Both Amaryllis and I look at each other in response, with Terra having suggested what both of us seemingly want to do the opposite of. Alliances can be beneficial, but they can also be liabilities. I already know how I plan to beat tributes like the Careers, it involves patience, and their own physical deterioration.
District 3 is now flashing on the screen, and ultimately, they are nowhere near as intimidating as the previous Career tributes. The first tribute is a girl named Didgit Lancaster, who this time around is an actual Reaped tribute. Peculiarly enough, Didgit laughs to herself as she walks up to the stage, which many I would imagine would find as strange behavior. Normally I would be able to agree with them, however I can detect the bitterness, and almost disbelief within her tone, that suggests her laugh sources from a bewilderment of being Reaped. I certainly wouldn't call her a threat as of yet, but she very well may not be someone to disregard. I'll label her as a wildcard.
Following Didgit, the first twelve year old tribute is Reaped, a young boy named Kirby Heyward that cannot for the life of him convince me that he's handling the situation all that well. I feel my stomach drop a little as his innocent face flashes on the screen, alongside even Amaryllis and Terra shifting uncomfortably as they stare at the screen. I subconsciously put Kirby into the non-threat category.
Once again my ears perk up at the sight of another Career District, this time being Four. It doesn't take very long for their first tribute to come in the form of a volunteer, as a girl named Cinder Halloway deviously volunteers with a smirk embedded on her face. Interestingly enough, she's the youngest Career tribute so far, volunteering a little prematurely at sixteen. However her demeanour and confidence alone is enough to place her in the threat category.
Shortly after, the only Career tribute that is Reaped rather than a volunteer, comes in the form of Ophiuchus Sandsea, or Ophi as he insists on the stage. There's something about him that suggests a little bit of a sodden spirit, perhaps the reluctance that he seems to have with being Reaped assists that feeling. Regardless, he seems to be in very good shape, plus his charisma that he manages to produce after his initial shock is surely enough to win over the Capitol audience. Easily another threat.
"The Careers look... strong," Amaryllis squeaks, concern palpable in her tone.
"As per usual," Terra snorts, a bitter sound in her voice. I nod my head in agreement as the District 5 seal comes onto the screen, now beginning to pay attention to that. Many other tributes would have their attention wane following the Career Districts, but I know better than that.
The first tribute is a girl that is Reaped, named Yelena Lantsov. Despite being on the older side, I can't gather too much about her that sets her apart from your generic tribute, other than the fact that she seems to be a little more extroverted than most. Her ability to talk could come in handy, especially during interviews, but for now I would label her as a non-threat.
The boy however, is one of the strangest looking tributes I've ever seen. He has to have some melanin deficiency or something of the sort, not to mention his lack of emotion as he steps forward after volunteering. I see Terra's eyebrows furrow in confusion as Slane Ampersand volunteers, probably trying to work out why this strange looking boy of fourteen would volunteer. I wish I had the answers, but for now I don't, which is why Slane is a wildcard as of now.
Finally, we reach the halfway point as the District 6 seal flashes on the screen for a few moments. The first Reaping is rather uneventful, as a girl named Lucille Fforde is Reaped, managing to come up quietly without much of a scene. She's a pretty girl, but other than that, she doesn't reveal much that would suggest she's anyone noteworthy. I'll have to observe her during training, however for the time being she falls under the non-threat category.
Things really kick into gear however with the next tribute, with a boy named Otto Van Meitch also volunteering. The way he acts when he makes it up to the stage however is nothing short of strange. Proclaiming that he should be well known by all, acting as of he is some sort of royalty, all the while being draped by rags for clothes and grime from what I can only presume are the streets. It leaves me scratching my head, and I honestly can't tell if this is all an act.
"What on Earth?" Amaryllis whispers to herself.
"Quite a few volunteers this year..." Terra speaks up, a hint of concern evident in her voice.
I shrug my shoulders, brushing off any concern I have for Otto, judging by his weedy frame and clear malnourishment, I wouldn't be surprised if little Kirby Heyward from District 3 can snap him like a twig. Non-threat.
I wish I could say the same for District 7, but once they're first tribute is established, I am instantly aware that there is more to be wary of on the horizon. Yet another volunteer comes out of the woodwork, a girl named Amazon Abiodun, who already looks physically formidable as she strides forward with confidence and ferocity. The more I watch her, the more my discomfort grows with the competition I have against me. Amazon is a certain threat.
To make the matter worse, her District Partner is yet another volunteer, a towering mass that looks to be the largest tribute as of so far. Malik Durbe makes his way up with excitement, and as I see more of him, I grow further uncertain of my chances. Somehow, both Amaryllis and I exchange glances at one another, with her eyes being wide with fear at the sight of Malik. I can only hope I didn't reciprocate the same expression. Malik is an indisputable threat.
I'm able to take a little sigh of relief when it comes to District 8, with the first tribute being a girl that is Reaped rather than a volunteer. Lindsey Clarke is the girl's name, and similarly to Yelena from District 5, she doesn't set off any alarm bells in my mind, she seems to be a fairly ordinary girl on the surface. For now I will mark her down as a non-threat.
Moving on from Lindsey, I am once again taken aback by the surprising occurrence of an outer-district volunteer. Nokia Adamar is quick to volunteer for the boy that is Reaped, and interestingly enough it appears to be in order to join Lindsey in the Hunger Games. The two of them could know each other, despite Lindsey's clear look of confusion by this. I don't know what Nokia has up his sleeve, but if he's confident enough to volunteer his life for this, he must be semi-capable, right? Until proven otherwise, I'll have to label him as a wildcard.
"Oh no," Amaryllis whimpers, as District 9's seal displays on the screen. Terra gives a small chuckle, before leaning forward and placing a hand on Amaryllis reassuringly.
"Don't worry, you were fine during the Reaping," Terra insists. I raise an eyebrow, twisting my mouth slightly as I return my gaze to the screen. If anything, I hope I was forgetful - that's the only way my strategy is going to work in this thing.
I pay little attention to when Amaryllis' name is called, having witnessed it for myself in the flesh when I watched it on the projection in the Town Square. However, I lean forward slightly as I watch Autumn reading my name out for the second time today. To my relief, when the cameras eventually focus on me I look anything other than interesting. If I had to describe how I looked, it would be unreadable. My face looked content, despite the crushing feelings I was going through internally, and thanks to my young age and lack of remarkable physical qualities, I do a good job of not capturing the audiences interest.
Terra glances at me, mouthing the words "you smashed it", I suppose in an attempt to support me. Little does she know, I'm happy to have done the complete opposite. I can already feel the disinterest coming from the Capitol, and before too long, the big threats will be at one another's throats, and I can float along to the end... well at least in theory.
Before too long, the image of both Amaryllis and I on the stage disappears, only to be replaced by the rural and humid looking District 10 landscape, they're accompanying seal also appearing over it. The first tribute is a girl that is Reaped, her name being Nera Abbadelli. She appears shocked, and hesitant to go up, but eventually has no choice but to do so. She's an attractive girl, and she seems surprisingly athletic from what I can see, if I had to place her anywhere I would think she is more of a wildcard.
The boy is an interesting case as well, his name being Alex Turner. He is only sixteen, yet he puts himself forward as a volunteer for whatever reason. He appears to be good looking, meaning the Capitol will like him for that, plus he's a volunteer so they'll enjoy that even more. Not to mention, he could certainly have some capabilities if he is volunteering, I can't put him any less than a wildcard.
"District 10 seem quite impressive this year," I speak up softly, the two of Terra and Amaryllis looking at me in response.
"I was just thinking that, perhaps they're solid ally options?" Terra prods, not so subtly trying to push me towards allying with the pair from Ten.
"Perhaps," I respond, knowing full well that I won't be doing anything of the sort.
Already we are moving on to District 11, and to my delight, neither of the pair pique my interest as District 10 did. Loretta Kavanagh is the female tribute that is selected, coming in the form of a small, unsuspecting frame that rivals twelve year-old Kirby Heyward. Although she doesn't physically threaten me, the way her eyes dart from side to side, and the movements that she makes as if she is on the balls of her feet, ready to flee at any moment; I predict she could be a more evasive tribute such as my self. However, I still don't think she will be much of a threat - as long as I'm faster than her. Non-threat.
I'm taken aback by how angry the next tribute is, that being Mot Whitaker. He doesn't strike me as someone that thinks rationally; in fact I think he is easily blinded by emotions. I find myself lacking concern about him, already placing him in the non-threat category.
"Finally," Amaryllis breathes as District 12's Reaping commences. I too feel weary from the Reapings, and silently pray that District 12 is once again nobody to worry about. Elyanna Aspen is the Reaped female, and I find myself not being able to tell much about her. She seems fairly delicate in all honesty, and although she certainly is pretty, I don't find her to appear as much of a threat, but rather a non-threat.
Zander Hoxley on the other hand, I'm a little more intrigued by. He seems awfully calm - dare I say confident - for someone that has just been Reaped. For someone living in District 12, he seems to have a reasonably well-fed physique, and as he talks with his Escort, I detect some sort of charm to him that certainly would help him attracting allies. I eye him down until the Reaping ends, my alarm bells beginning to go off a little. I think this may be the first District 12 tribute that I deem a threat.
Terra switches off the screen, before glancing either side at the two of us.
"Well, thoughts?"
"I think I'm screwed," Amaryllis groans, rubbing her eyes out of exhaustion. I stand up, looking at Terra for a moment before finally responding.
"There are certainly some noteworthy competitors, I need time to reflect," I say softly. Terra bites her lip, before nodding her head and motioning towards the hallway.
"Of course, feel free to have a think about it, I'll see you for dinner!" She exclaims with a smile. I return it momentarily, before darting off towards my room thinking heavily about my competition; and oh boy do I have some things to think about.
Author's Note:
I'm not really sure how to start this... I'm back? I know it feels like I've done this a couple of times now, and I really do have to apologize for how long it has taken to complete this chapter. I'm going to be real with you guys - I was simply burnt out. Uni took a toll on me this year, and once holidays began, I wanted nothing more than to relax and not think about working. Writing falls under a hobby for me, and trust me, when I'm in the mood I love writing. I think I just needed a prolonged break from anything relating to writing, whether it is uni work or even this story. So from the bottom of my heart, I'm terribly sorry for the wait. I really wanted to feel inspired to write, I didn't want to rush one out that felt half-assed, so ultimately here we are.
I think it goes without saying that COVID has royally fucked all of us this year, and the lockdowns that my state in my country was put under was extremely demotivating for doing anything. Thankfully, my country and state have a lot more freedom now, and I will be feeling more motivated to continue with Heir. No matter what, I always plan to finish this story, I just don't know how long it will take is all. I know many people will have forgotten about this story and stopped reading, but I will continue no matter what as it is my creative outlet, and I love where I am taking it.
Speaking of which, let's summarize this chapter! We got to meet Nera, Kirby, Cinder, and Burton, feel free to let me know what you thought of them (and the District Partners that may have featured in their POV's). I figured including a recap of the Reaping's for Burton's POV was a good opportunity to remind you of who the other tributes are, as it has been a while since the Reaping chapters. I'll be getting started on the next chapter soon, which will be named Train Ride III: Hostility, and will consist of POV's from Mot (D11), Lindsey (D8), Adonis (D1), and Elyanna (D12). Thank you so much for reading, Happy Holidays, and I'll see you next time!
-Winter