TW: Vague mentions of prostitution
Chapter 2: Tall Tales
"Ugh, I hate driving in the city." Iden's voice held the air of a weathered cabbie as he pulled the car out of the school parking lot; Riin rolled her eyes. The afternoon traffic of the city centre slowed the vehicle to a crawl as Iden weaved carefully around a bold skateboarder.
Riin glared at the kid as they passed. "Hey, look; ten points if you hit that guy with the groceries."
The light ahead of them switched red, and the man in question hefted his large sack of necessities across the crosswalk. Iden huffed in amusement, shaking his head as he inched the car to a stop. "What about this lady and her dog?" he said, analyzing the pedestrians traversing the street.
"Not the dog!" Riin gasped in faux horror. "Twenty points."
Iden snickered as the light turned green, stepping gently on the accelerator when the road cleared.
The car itself was a new addition to the family. Only a scant couple of months lie between Riin's birthday and her brother's; he'd turned eighteen this past September, and the only thing he'd pestered their parents for was driving lessons.
"Iden, we don't even have a car," their mother had pointed out.
"But—"
"You don't need to drive when you can just take the metro; it's much faster," their father chimed in.
Riin had watched with a wordless frown as her brother's face fell, and he disappeared to sulk in his room, grumbling about their parents' lame excuses. Finding that she rather agreed with him, and considering the honestly ridiculous amount of money she had collecting dust in her Victors' bank account, Riin took matters into her own hands. It had taken a considerable amount of effort to keep it behind their parents' backs — she'd gone to Janus for help with that one — but the look on Iden's face (and her parents') had been worth it.
Pinching the keys between her fingers, Riin couldn't hide her grin as Iden practically ran laps around the sleek sedan, tracing his fingers across the glossy black paint as he inspected every inch of the vehicle. "Holy shit, Riin; this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he breathed, his eyes alight with almost childish joy.
"First of the new models from District Six's Capitol series," she bragged, tossing Iden the keys. "Even the president hasn't gotten his hands on one yet."
With a high-pitched chirp, Iden unlocked the doors, climbing eagerly into the driver's seat.
"Hang on a minute," their mother said as Riin opened the passenger side door. "I don't think so. You don't even know how to drive."
"No thanks to you," Iden muttered under his breath, and Riin snorted a laugh.
"Come now, Valdora, I'm sure he's smart enough to handle it." Riin's ears perked up at the sound of Janus's voice, no doubt drawn out by the commotion across the street. "After a few lessons, of course. If you'd like, I'd be happy to teach him."
Bold words for someone who's only ever used a car as a murder weapon. At least, as far as Riin knew. Valdora seemed to be thinking along the same lines; she opened her mouth to protest, eyes narrowed, but Iden interrupted. "Really? That'd be awesome!"
"Me too!" Riin piped up. "You said you would!"
Reluctantly, Valdora relented, realizing that she wouldn't have time with her increased shifts and her husband wouldn't be able to since he'd never learned.
Two months later, Iden toted a preliminary driving permit in his wallet, and while he still wasn't supposed to be driving on his own, he'd started chauffeuring himself and Riin to and from school whenever they didn't feel like taking the metro. He hadn't been stopped by patrolling Peacekeepers yet — due to his "excellent driving skills" according to him. Even if they did get stopped, Riin felt confident in her abilities and her new status as Panem's most recent Hunger Games Victor to talk them out of punishment, not to mention her mother's position on the force.
Grinning, Riin clicked through the radio channels, searching for something that wasn't the upbeat repetitiveness of Capitol-brand pop music. So much for satellite radio; District Eight's local stations at least had some variety. "Oh, Iden, look!" Riin said, pointing at an elderly woman hobbling slowly up the sidewalk with a cane. "Fifty points for her!"
A snort burst from Iden's mouth as he slowed the car down, turning a corner into the entrance to Victor's Village. "Ah, I'm going to hell for laughing at that," he sighed.
The lights were off when they walked through the door of Riin's mansion, setting down their school bags in the foyer. No doubt their mother had a late shift again; the Head Peacekeeper kept her plenty busy since promoting her to captain.
"You don't have self-defense classes today, do you?" Iden asked, his nose already digging through the refrigerator.
"No, I'm meeting with Janus later on. Victory tour stuff."
"Exciting," he said sarcastically, settling on the leftovers from last night's dinner. "I guess Dad's back at the seamster's shop again."
Riin hummed in agreement as she sat herself on the plush living room couch, propping her feet against a pillow and snagging a couple of magazines from the coffee table. She'd gotten Janus to help her order some subscriptions so she could stay up-to-date on the ins and outs of the Capitol's lifestyle, figuring it might help her out later when she needed to deal with sponsors. Plus, she couldn't deny the entertainment in reading about their stupid little lives. "Don't know why he doesn't just quit. It's not like we need the money," she said, flipping through the pages of a booklet titled 'Vogue Capitol'.
Iden made a noncommittal noise around a mouthful of cold fried rice. "Probably nothing else for him to do," he said with a shrug. "He'd be bored as hell around here."
"He's got, like, ten thousand embroidery projects; he could do that," Riin said, skimming a page with two odd-looking long-nosed canines on the highlight, photographed sitting on an ornate velvet chaise. "Oh, check this out, there's a whole column about the President's dogs." She tilted the magazine to show Iden, who'd appeared over her shoulder to look.
"Those are dogs?" Iden scoffed. "They look like wolf-horses, or something." He grinned suddenly, poking Riin's shoulder. "Hey… hey, Riin, I've got one for you."
"One what?" Riin asked flatly.
He pointed at the magazine. "What does the President say to his dogs when they're sad?"
"I don't know, what?"
The corner of Iden's lip twitched. Clearing his throat, he spoke in an incredibly poor impression of President Valorius's voice. "He says, 'Hey, why the long faces?'"
Riin rolled her eyes as Iden dissolved into laughter at his own joke. "Stupid."
"Oh, come on, that was funny," Iden said, nudging her again.
She swatted him away. "Yeah, whatever. Listen to this: 'Often seen trailing President Valorius at public events,'" Riin read aloud, slipping into her best Capitol accent, "'the two snow-white borzois Phobos and Deimos have captured the nation's attention. With extra genetic enhancements inspired by the well-known canine muttations of the 150th Hunger Games…'"
It took Riin a minute to realize she'd stopped reading.
"Is that… common?" Iden said incredulously. Catching the look on Riin's face, he slowly slid the magazine out of her hands. "Maybe you should try a different one," he said gently, passing her a magazine at random.
Would they do that with the mutts from mine? Riin thought, taking the issue from her brother's hands. She didn't know how she'd react to seeing a knife-toothed cougar on the leash of some Capitolite, but even the thought made her stomach churn. As for the Widows… Riin hadn't seen any since her return, though she doubted anyone in the Capitol would want one as a pet.
Glancing at the magazine, Riin found Xerya Valorius's face staring back at her from the cover. She almost tossed it away, but the headline caught her eye: 'Faithful Wife or Panem's Biggest Whore?'
Riin's mouth dropped open, her uneasiness vanishing at the intrigue. "Are they allowed to say that?"
Iden raised his eyebrows at the headline. "Probably not in the districts," he said with a shrug. "Don't you have homework, though?"
"Eh," Riin said, flipping to the article. The teachers wouldn't dare fail her out of school now, even if she didn't do her assignments. She was busy, anyways. "Oh, do you want to come throw knives with me at Janus's later on? I was thinking about going early; don't worry, we'll kick you out before we get to the Tour stuff."
The sound of light shuffling reached Riin's ears as Iden cleaned away the evidence of his snack. "As fun as that sounds," he said, pulling a textbook from his bag, "I actually have to do my homework."
Riin rolled her eyes, turning back to the article. She'd seen plenty of magazines and articles featuring the First Lady of Panem in her studies, ranging from analyses of Xerya's various party outfits and whether or not they clashed with her naturally-violet eye color (and the following iris color-correction trend) to photographs of her and the President as 'the nation's most popular couple since the Pykes of District Two', even throwing in some wedding pictures. Riin usually enjoyed the latter, tracing over the intricate lace and pearls of Xerya's wedding dress with a keen eye. While the fact that the President had chosen an eighteen year-old for his bride had raised some eyebrows in the districts, she'd gotten the impression that the citizens of the Capitol fawned relentlessly over the couple.
Apparently this was not always the case. As Riin's eyes traced over words like 'gold-digger', 'floozy', and 'parasite', she began to wonder whether the sentiment held any truth or if it had been born of sheer jealousy. Two sides to every coin, she mused.
Again, Xerya's words came to mind. 'We all have our Games to play,' she'd told Riin at her Victor's banquet. Despite the article's aim to convince her of the opposite, something in Riin's gut told her that the President's wife was no money-grubbing airhead.
Riin spent the rest of the afternoon picking through her stack of magazines for snippets of words about the First Lady and her husband. While she doubted the verity of half of the articles, the information gave her a sense of Xerya's reputation with the citizens of the Capitol. Whether they hated her or they wanted to be her, she remained a high-profile subject of Capitol conversation.
She did notice, however, that most of the smearing articles solely targeted her and not the President - which seemed unfair in Riin's mind - save for an old magazine Janus had given her that contained an article criticizing the country's leader for choosing a partner thirteen years his junior. Out of curiosity, Riin searched the name of the author on her Capitol-provided cellular, her eyes landing on the words "Journalist Still Missing After Vacation to District 4." Alright, no slandering the President, then.
Digging through the magazines again, she found only one other article by the unfortunate journalist, a rather old one judging by the fact that it covered the election of the late President Valorius to her fifth compound term. To think that only three years later, she would be assassinated by her own Vice President… The only thing the Capitol loves more than the Hunger Games is live political drama, Riin thought with amusement.
At about half past four, Riin tossed the magazines aside and gathered herself to visit her mentor. Her father still had not made an appearance so her departure would leave Iden alone in the oversized mansion. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" she needled. "Zhara might be there."
Iden raised an eyebrow from where he sat at the kitchen table, pausing his hasty scribbling onto a stack of paper. "Not sure what you're insinuating, but this essay isn't going to finish itself," he said nonchalantly.
"Fine," Riin shrugged. "See you at dinner, then."
Grabbing a light jacket and her set of house keys, she stepped outside into the chilly air. Janus's mansion lay across from hers, a mere jog across the green, close enough that Riin wasn't short of breath when she knocked on the door. "Hello, Riin," Zhara said, opening the door with an airy smile. She brushed her hair over her shoulder as she welcomed her guest inside, and Riin noticed strands of scarlet woven into the underside of her long braids.
"The red looks nice," she pointed out, not bothering to remove her jacket as the two of them headed into the backyard.
"Thanks," she said brightly. "Just got it done last week." Zhara's focus shifted as she caught sight of a fluffy ragdoll cat perched on top of a wood-carved storage bench. "Oh, Morphy!" The cat leapt onto the grass, snaking itself around Zhara's legs, and she scooped it effortlessly into her arms.
Rustling through the storage bench, Riin extracted two sleeves of throwing knives for the both of them from underneath a pile of soccer balls. "That thing's still showing up?"
"Oh, he's a sweetheart, aren't you Morpheus?" Zhara stroked the cat lovingly, earning a loud purr of approval, and Riin raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
According to Janus, that cat was a demon incarnate, and he had the scratches to prove it. Around Zhara, however… Riin reached out a hand to test the hypothesis; with a loud hiss, Morpheus swiped at her outstretched fingers. Riin snapped her hand back just in time, answering the cat with a hiss of her own. Zhara chuckled, allowing him to drop from her arms.
Ignoring the cat, Riin strapped the sleeve of knives to her leg, readying herself to face the bullseye nailed to a nearby tree that stood as the target. The sound of the back door opening interrupted her. "Riin? You're here early."
The blade embedded itself on the outer ring of the target, and Riin turned to face her mentor. "Hi Janus," she greeted. "Just wanted to hang out with Zhara for a bit."
"And you've done all your schoolwork, I assume?"
"Of course," she lied.
Janus hummed in doubt, though he didn't question her, instead moving to greet his daughter, who sent a pair of knives straight into the center ring before accepting a welcoming peck on the forehead. "Very nice," he praised, and Zhara beamed. "Keep practicing, Riin, and one day you might catch up."
Riin grumbled in response, getting rid of a couple knives into the fringes of the target. The lighthearted tone of Janus's quip didn't disguise the fact that he was right. Zhara had years of practice on her (not training; it was simply a hobby), and it showed. Not that either Riin or Zhara really needed the practice, as the two of them were no longer eligible for reaping — now, it really was just a hobby.
"Zhara, I'm afraid I'll have to steal Riin away from you in a bit," Janus said, grabbing a sleeve of his own to join the girls. "Barnabas will be over in about a half an hour to discuss things for our upcoming trip."
Riin let out a groan as Zhara merely shrugged. "Does he really need to be here?" the former said with a grimace. "It's not like we actually need his help."
"Be nice, Riin," Janus chided, casually chucking a knife into the bullseye. "We'll need to work as a team in the future, even if only two of us are mentoring."
Riin rolled her eyes, releasing a sigh and a knife. The blade buried itself into the middle ring, and she rolled her shoulder to stretch out the kinks in her muscles. Slowly but surely, her aim improved with each throw. So far, all of her blades had found themselves pegged to the target board at various radii from the central ring, a marked improvement from her attempts at the training center before the Games.
While the task often dredged up memories of her time in the Capitol and in the arena, Riin found herself calmed by the diligence required to hit the target. Separating the terror of the arena from the simplicity of aiming and throwing proved a surprisingly uncomplicated feat, as long as she maintained her focus. Initially, Janus had worried that it might trigger unpleasant reactions; however, upon finding that she had become prone to carrying a blade on her person regardless, that particular fear quickly dissipated.
The three of them threw in comfortable silence as dusk settled around the air, until Morpheus the cat decided to scramble up the tree to lounge on a low-hanging branch.
"Bet you my lunch money you can hit the cat," Riin said aside to Janus while Zhara went to pluck him from the bough and collect the scattered blades.
Janus gave her a stern glare that said neither of them would be doing any such thing. A sharp knock on the front door answered before Riin could, loud enough for them to hear it from the yard: Barnabas.
Reluctantly, she followed Janus inside to greet her fellow Victor, slipping one of the knives that Zhara had retrieved into her pocket.
For the most part, Riin hadn't crossed paths with Barnabas since her return, neither having any desire to be in each other's company. She'd caught sight of him heading over to Janus's every once in a while, though whether that was because they were friends or because he didn't have anyone else, Riin wasn't sure.
"Dibs on not mentoring this year," Barnabas said stiffly, shucking his jacket upon entering.
"Nice to see you too," Janus said dryly while Riin just shot him a glare. "I think that conversation will have to wait since we actually have something to do in the off-season this year."
Barnabas huffed as Janus led the two of them into a private room for their discussion. "Come on, I haven't had a year off since Coraline bit it," he grumbled.
"Neither has Janus," Riin pointed out, taking a seat on the arm of a thick leather chair and fiddling with the knife.
The stout man lowered himself onto an opposing armchair with a scowl. "You haven't been here long enough to give input."
Riin opened her mouth to retort when Janus cut her off. "We're not discussing this now," he said, a firmness to his tone. From one of the many bookshelves lining the wall, Janus pulled out an impressively thick file, setting it on a nearby desk to rifle through its contents. "There's still a lot to do before the Capitol team gets here."
"I don't see why I have to even go," Barnabas griped, and Riin rolled her eyes.
Was he always this rude? Perhaps he's just drunk. Riin didn't spend enough time in Barnabas's company to know whether that was a regular occurrence or just a special occasion for the Hunger Games season, and frankly she had no interest in finding out.
"Capitol rules, you know that." From the maw of the folder, Janus extracted a thin booklet, passing it to Riin. "Scilla was kind enough to send me an hourly schedule of the tour this Monday; have a look."
Skimming over the paper, Riin stifled a yawn. Janus hadn't been kidding when he said 'hourly'; for all her casual, unconcerned demeanor, Scilla did her job well. "Nothing unexpected here," Riin said, twirling the throwing knife between her fingers. According to the leaflet, the tour would proceed as usual: from District Thirteen up to District One, skipping Eight, with a rendezvous at the Capitol to meet their delightful citizens, and a grand finale back home.
District Thirteen. Any other time, she might be genuinely curious, but the idea of visiting her former ally's home district… Riin tried to shove down the uneasiness. At least we're getting it out of the way first.
She didn't miss the quick, concerned glance Janus sent her way, but thankfully he didn't press. "I know I gave you a couple Capitol magazines," he continued, drawing Riin's attention from the schedule. "But I think it would be a good idea to familiarize yourself with the Victors of each district, since you'll be meeting most of them as well."
Right; she'd only met a small handful of them at her banquet. How many were still living, anyways? "Okay, so I can just watch all their Hunger Games, then," Riin said, thinking out loud.
Barnabas let out a cross between a cough and a snort, and Riin shot him a glare.
"I don't think that's necessary," Janus said hesitantly. "You can if you wish, but I wouldn't bring up their Games with any of the Victors. It tends to be a rather sensitive subject."
Riin nodded, taking in Janus's words. She'd already seen most of the Games since the last Quell during her time before the arena, but it couldn't hurt to brush up on the others. Like her own, the gory details of every single Victory had been broadcasted on live television for the viewing pleasure of the citizens of Panem. Additionally, she'd recently ordered an all-encompassing set of encyclopedias detailing every Hunger Games since the 75th for just this purpose.
As a mentor, she would be competing against these people in the years to come, and Riin knew too well the value of sensitive information.
"We'll have to handle your celebration in the Capitol as well," Janus said, nosing through his file again. "Usually, the most influential sponsors are in attendance, and we'll need to be careful around them."
Barnabas scoffed from his armchair. "I doubt we'll have to worry about getting sponsors for a while," he said, passing a brief glance at Riin, who frowned.
Janus shot him a warning look, and Riin's confusion deepened. There was something they weren't telling her. "It might help," Janus said, ignoring his counterpart, "if you choose a talent that they can capitalize on. Have you looked through that booklet I gave you?"
Pointless homework assignments from school were bad enough; now she had them from the Capitol too? Riin wrinkled her nose. "They all seem like a waste of time," she said disdainfully, using the tip of the knife to clean her fingernails.
An almost-weary sigh escaped Janus's like, while Barnabas chuckled. "You need to pick one."
Folding her arms, Riin scowled. "Why? It's stupid."
Barnabas seemed to agree with her. "Really, I don't know why the hell they bother with that." He huffed a mirthless laugh. "To make them like you? They'll sell you anyways, faster than a wedding dress in the summer."
Riin's head snapped in his direction, her eyes widening.
"Barnabas!" Janus snapped. He'd been careless; Riin could tell by the look on Janus's face.
"Sell me?" she demanded, her heart beginning to pound in her ears. For the second time that day, Xerya Valorius's words played in Riin's mind. We all have our Games to play. You'll find that out soon enough.
Barnabas raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You think your Victory was cheap? You've got debts to pay, kid." He shot Janus an accusing look. "Don't ask me why your dear old mentor didn't mention it sooner."
'Debts'? What the fuck did that mean? Even the thought of whatever that might imply sent a coil of dread gnawing at Riin's stomach. She'd won the Games of her own accord; she didn't owe anyone anything. The display of guilt on Janus's face laced with anger directed towards his counterpart, however, hinted at a different story, a truth to Barnabas's words.
Whatever this was, it was important. And Janus had kept it from her.
That stung, like a thousand Widow bites, a cold poison coursing through her veins. Riin had seen his Games; sure, he was an ally-killer, a two-faced betrayer in the arena — no different than herself.
But Janus wasn't supposed to do that, not with her. He was supposed to help her, to tell her everything she needed to know so she wouldn't make a fatal mistake in the Capitol.
He wasn't supposed to keep things from her, like… like Victor.
Ignoring the almost-pleading look on Janus's face, Riin got up and left without another word.
Janus's voice called out to her, but Riin barely heard, the conversation pounding through her mind relentlessly. Sell you. "Wait!" Debts to pay. "Riin, wait!" You think your Victory was cheap?
The sound of feet slapping against asphalt reached her ears as she ran.
A/N: :V Don't worry, next chapter will have a lot more Super Fun Conversations like that... rip. I think I first read THG when I was like... 13? Gotta love these themes.
For those of you Also reading True Vengeance... lmk if you caught all those :P Lol, maybe I should rename it 'Keeping Up with the Pykes' hjfhj.. (also the update for that will probably be coming out later on in the week.. I intend to post it by at least like.. Saturday, and I would sooner, but I am. Ahem. Still writing it /fingerguns/ )
Anyways, I thought that was a fun little way to stick in some worldbuilding and jazz there.. There's just A Lot going on in the Capitol like, All The Time jhgfhj. I'd be curious to know your thoughts on that, if you'd like to share ! Still planning on doing the weekly updates for this, but Lots of Progress is being Made :D fun times ! See y'all then
- Nell