Chapter 7- Terra Coppersmith
It's been about four years since I set foot in the Capitol, and I wasn't expecting to feel this much pain from seeing it again. Everywhere I look I see Fletcher; he was on the train with me and suddenly I am sixteen again, giddy with first love.
Only love, as it turns out.
And every time I remember something that he did, or someplace where we were, it's like a punch to the stomach, because he's dead. That beautiful, brilliant boy is dead, and it's because of me that he died. He died for me, and I loved him.
The journey here was the worst train ride I've ever had, because Iry is with me. Between her being a tribute and me remembering Fletcher constantly, I'm going to be a wreck by the time Training starts.
It's killing me, too, that my sister is a tribute, and it's probably all my fault as well. They reap the family members of victors too often for it to be just bad luck. Iry is here in the Capitol because of me.
"Deecey came to say goodbye," Iry said last night; I took her straight into her room, a few doors down from mine. I've kept the same room that I've always had while travelling. "Alex too, and Mrs. Underfall. Alex brought Eli and I got to say goodbye to him too. Deecey's going to look after Ribbons."
"Good," I said, hugging my little sister tight.
"Why are you here on the train? I thought you didn't mentor," Iry asked.
"I've stayed home because of you. Now that you're here, there's not much of a point in me staying back in District 8 unable to help you. Here, I'm going to be your mentor."
"What about Shuttle and Woven? Can they help too?"
"Of course," I said. "Of course they can." I'm Iry's mentor, with Shuttle helping, and Woof has taken Azlon alongside Woven. That suits me fine.
Iry keeps glancing down at my hands, each one missing a finger. I know she's wondering what she's going to look like when she comes out of the arena. And she is going to come out! I swear she'll be the victor if I have to go in myself and kill them all.
I will keep my sister alive.
But now, Iry is gone temporarily, gone to her stylists in the Prep Center. And I wait.
"They've given her Damius, did you know?" Shuttle asks, coming up behind me and lightly touching my shoulder. That's one thing you should never do: sneak up behind a victor. Any one of us is liable to take a head off or something if we're startled enough.
"Good; he's always liked Iry," I say. Damius used to be my stylist, back when I was a tribute, and then as a new victor. I haven't seen him in years, though. He was kind and gentle, and I liked him.
There're other victors loitering around in the lobby of the Prep Center, waiting for their own tributes to be done. Some look more impatient than others; like Aulus Buteo from 2. He's pacing up and down and looking rather menacing. Woven and Woof are nowhere to be seen; I'm sure they'll show up at some point. "What do we do in the meantime?" I ask Shuttle.
"We can go to the garden that's adjacent," she says. "Then we'll need to go to a victor stylist to get our makeup done for tonight. Nobody's going to see us, but we're expected to look like victors." Shuttle rolls her eyes.
"Let's go then," I say.
The gardens turn out to be a gigantic greenhouse filled with tropical plants and butterflies. Leafy ferns drape over the walkways and remind me of a jungle. There was a jungle in my Games, but I never went in there. Just the thought of the Games brings Fletcher back to me again.
"I'm reminded of him constantly," I say to Shuttle quietly, leaning over to examine a particular butterfly.
"Who?"
"Fletcher."
"He was good. A fine young man," Shuttle says. She wasn't his mentor, but she knew him too and tried to keep him alive alongside me and Woven. She's been a mentor for years, though. Do the tributes start to blend together after awhile, especially when they don't come back?
"I miss him," I say.
Shuttle nods. There's nothing really else to say. Fletcher's dead, and no amount of grieving or talking about him will bring him back. Ever.
"So this is where you've been hiding!" I turn to see an older man with grey streaked brown hair walking towards us. He's vaguely familiar but I don't know how.
"Elm, what a surprise," Shuttle says, embracing the man. "How do you like your tributes this year?"
"The boy's a bit of a nightmare looks wise, but the girl more than makes up for it. I'm already getting calls about her," he says, a smug look on his face, then he notices me. "And you're Terra Coppersmith. I remember you from your victory tour."
So that's where I've seen him. "Which district?" I ask.
"District 7 of course. Don't you recognize me?"
"It's been a long time."
"Terra, this is Elm, Elm, you know Terra," Shuttle says.
"Good to see you again, Terra," Elm says, shaking hands with me. "I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot of you in the Viewing Hall."
"Elm!" A woman with curly brown hair calls from the garden entrance.
"That'll be Corinna wanting me for something. See you tonight," Elm says, and walks away.
"What year did he win?" I ask Shuttle after he's gone.
"He won the 2nd Games," she says absentmindedly. "Corinna's his victor partner; she won the 24th. Before the Quarter Quell."
"Shuttle, what am I going to do about Iry?" I say, my voice dropping. "I can't lose her."
"We'll get her home. I promise that I'll do everything I can to help you bring her home," Shuttle says.
"I can't lose her," I whisper, sitting down beside an ornamental pool. There are two scenarios that are playing out in front of me: the first is that Iry dies and is buried in the District 8 cemetery alongside my parents and Fletcher. And if she dies, then I die with her, really. She's the person I've been living for all my life.
The second scenario is that Iry wins; she's crowned victor and escapes the arena. What then? My sister will still have changed drastically in the arena, and in a way, I will lose her in either scenario. And what about the Capitol? I've escaped their attentions by hiding in District 8 until they forgot about me. Iry's only thirteen. Will they go after her too?
"You and I will go and get her sponsors during Training, that's how it works," Shuttle says, sitting down beside me. "She's small and sweet, and very likeable. We'll be able to get her sponsors more easily than Elm's going to with his boy tribute."
"And what about me?" I ask. It feels selfish to even bring it up, but it's been weighing on my mind the past day. "Will the Capitol citizens go after me? Like Lissi Hornfell or others like her?" They're the reason I've been kept out of the public eye for the past five years.
Shuttle sighs and rubs her eyes with one hand. "It's going to be a risk. You might have faded enough to get by, or you might not have. It might be the only way to keep Iry alive. It's your choice, ultimately."
I don't hesitate. "I'll do it. Nothing's more important than Iry."
Shuttle smiles wryly. "Then welcome to the Lion's Den."
"There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere," Woven says, coming to join us. "Azlon's got an insane stylist this year. Emmie got moved to District 7 this year, which is a shame."
"Iry's still got Damius, right?" I ask. I hate to think of my little sister in the hands of a madman.
"Damius has Iry, yes. There's some newcomers this year, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing," Woven says. "Woof's been arguing with Azlon's stylist, Janus, for the past half hour. The stylist wants to put Azlon into something terrible; not sure what. You know how Woof gets, though."
"Who're the victor stylists this year?" Shuttle asks.
"Titanium, Pleia, Hippolyta, and Mitsy."
"Lovely," Shuttle says, grimacing. I have no idea who any of these people are; perhaps I would have an idea if this wasn't my first year mentoring.
"They'll be moving onto costuming in an hour; we should beat the rush at the stylist stations," Woven says. Shuttle stands up, then helps me too. Even after five years standing up is difficult on these legs.
Out of the garden and in the main Prep Center lobby, there's a lot more victors than there were before. Men and women both, of all ages and all districts too, as far as I can see. Many of them are talking with each other like old friends, and they probably are.
I recognize several from my Victory Tour, and from watching them on television throughout the years. Standing by the fountain in the center are Athena Fieldman and Aulus Buteo from District 2. And over by the large windows at the front of the Center is Silver Bellcreek, the victor of the 1st Hunger Games, talking to Mags from 4.
The girl who walks very stiffly towards the stylist stations is Porter Tripp, who broke her neck during her Games and had to wear a neck brace while touring. I also see Beetee Latier, the brilliant victor from 3, who won the year before me.
Panem has had forty victors and, not counting the ones who have already died, they are all here in this building. That's a lot of people with the ability to kill.
"Come, Terra," Woven says, and I obediently follow my mentor. Is she still my mentor now that I'm a mentor too? I don't know. I want to see Iry, but I remember from experience that the tributes don't see the mentors until we all get to the stables for the chariot rides. In my year, once the rides were over, Postumius got so outrageously drunk that he had to be dragged upstairs to the apartments.
Remembering that also makes me think of Fletcher, who I was just beginning to know then, and it feels like another punch in the stomach.
"Terra, are you okay?" Shuttle asks, coming up beside me. I nod.
"I'm fine."
Iry Coppersmith
I'm scared and sore with all the treatments they've been doing to me, but I know my prep team, and they know me. Back when I was little, and Terra had just won the Games, Sappho, the lady with pink hair and long eyelashes, gave me a makeover. I also know Lem and Tiffany, my other two stylists. My prep team used to be Terra's, and it makes it easier somehow.
"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry but it's going to hurt just one more time," Tiffany says apologetically.
"It's okay, I know you don't mean to," I say. I've been soaked, trimmed, scraped, and waxed for several hours now, and I think it's starting to come to an end. Then I get to see Damius again. He was always nice to me, too.
Tiffany rips the last strip off my legs; I wince but don't cry out. Lem pats my head in sympathy.
"She's a brave one, isn't she?" Sappho and Tiffany make noises of agreement.
"Alright, let's have a look at you," Sappho says, helping me up. I feel embarrassed to be naked in front of them, but it doesn't last long because Tiffany hands me a robe.
"Damius will be here in a minute. We'll see you when we get you into your costume, okay sweetie?" Tiffany says.
"Okay." Sappho blows me a kiss, then the three of them leave.
A few minutes after they leave, Damius enters, and I can't help breaking out into a smile when I see him. He's the most normal person I've seen so far in the Capitol; he reminds me of the people at home.
"Iry, I never thought I'd see you here," Damius says, shaking my hand. "You've grown up since the last time I saw you."
"I'm thirteen now," I tell him, sliding off the table.
"Why don't we have a bite to eat while we talk?" he asks. He leads the way to another room connected to this one; this new room has a table in the middle and some pretty paintings on the walls. On one wall there's nothing but windows and I can see down into the Capitol. It's beautiful, even more beautiful than I've always dreamed it would be.
Damius presses a button and the table splits open, bringing up a second tabletop underneath that holds two bowls of soup and a basket of bread.
"Nothing too heavy, just something to put meat on your bones," Damius says. "Bon appetite."
"Thank you," I say. Taking a spoonful of soup, it surprises me with how delicious it tastes. Is everything in the Capitol this tasty?
"Now, you'll be wondering about the costume for the Chariot Rides," Damius says after a few minutes. "And I must warn you, I have a new partner this year who's higher in seniority than I am, so I must do as he wants more than I would like to."
"What does he want to do?"
Damius sighs. "Janus's fascination this year is with capes. No matter how much I tell him that capes have been done recently, he insists. So, you will have a cape. I've designed something that will look good on you, and left the boy up to Janus. I hope you'll like it."
"I'll like anything you put me in," I tell him honestly. He laughs.
"Don't speak too soon, Iry. You haven't seen some of the truly dreadful costumes some of the other stylists have conjured up." He gestures to the soup. "Please, eat up. We have an eventful night tonight and I don't want you to faint midway through the chariots."
I giggle. "I've always wanted to come to the Capitol, you know," I tell him.
Damius raises his glass. "Then here's to the Capitol, and here's to returning a victor."
I raise my glass too. I might be small, and I might be young, but Terra won't let me die in the arena. So I don't really need to worry, do I?
An hour later, I'm standing in front of a mirror as Tiffany takes in the sides of my dress. I kind of like my costume, actually. It's a red velvet dress with a white silk cape that flutters behind me when I walk. Sappho braided my hair up really prettily, and they've put a garland of silk flowers on my head.
Tiffany put the final touches in and steps back. "There! You look pretty!"
"Thank you!" I say, spinning in a circle and feeling the cape fly out behind me. "Can I go show Terra?"
"You can," Damius says, patting my shoulder. "The Chariot Rides are due to begin in about a half hour, so we should head down. Come with me."
We take an elevator down from the Prep Center and end up in an enclosed stable. Most of the other tributes are here, and I feel scared when I see them. They're going to want to kill me in a few days. But, for now, I am ignored, and I get to get a good look at them.
The tributes from District 2 are standing by a pair of brown horses talking together. They're wearing tunics that have been painted to look like stone and they look very clever. The girl is shorter than me, which surprises me.
Meanwhile, the tributes from 3 are dressed like robots or cyborgs or something, with wires and metal completely covering them. Neither of them looks too happy to be here.
"Iry!" I rush towards the sound of my name, straight into my sister's arms. "You look nice," Terra says. "Better than the kids from 10."
I look for who she's talking about and immediately giggle. The boy is dressed like a cow, and the girl is dressed like an old-fashioned cowboy. It's terrible.
"Where's the idiot?" Woven says coming up behind us.
"Which one? It sounds like we have a couple this year," Terra says.
"Well I've found one," Shuttle says, pointing to Postumius who's dancing around with a glass in hand, talking to other escorts. "I am not doing a repeat of last year."
"What happened last year?" I ask.
"He gets drunk down here every year, but last year he threw up on the stylist from 2. I have no idea how he didn't get fired after that."
"Here's the other idiot, and Azlon," Woven says. Azlon is coming over, dressed similarly to me, but wearing a very shiny white shirt, black pants, and a heavy red velvet cape. He's also wearing a crown on his head made of fabric. With him is a manic looking man with spiky red hair and too much makeup.
"I'm impressed you held off with your original idea," Shuttle says, looking at the manic man.
"The fool had them make me match Damius," he snarls. "As for the interviews, Janus holds full power!"
"Good for you," Woven says, then makes a point of ignoring him.
"So, Iry, just smile and wave to the crowd. They're going to love you," Terra says. She sounds cheerful, but her mouth wobbles a little like she's trying not to cry. "They're not going to be able to do anything but love you."
"I'll be okay, Terra, I promise!" I tell her, giving my sister a kiss on the cheek.
"It's about time to get onto your chariot," Damius says, taking my hand.
"Good luck," Shuttle and Woven both tell me. Where's Woof?
"Let's go," I say, and I'm led to my chariot pulled by the bay horses.