Snowdrop
Consolation and Hope
Dylan Manta, District Four Male, Eighteen
The Reapings have come and gone once again, the citizens of Four silently shuffling away from the centre of the district going back to their daily life. Those that are safe from the claws of the Capitol all sigh a collective relief. Others rush to see their loved ones, towards the Justice Building, begging a higher power that they come back.
The sound of furniture hitting the wall coincide with the waves on the coastal shores of Four. Dylan launches yet another piece of furniture towards the pristine white wall, seeing red in his vision as anger consumes him completely. He just wants to break things and release whatever pent-up stress and anger he is feeling at this moment. He picks up another chair smashing it on carpeted floor, splinters going everywhere.
He can feel his heart beating fast, his breath sounds rough and heavy, his chest rising and falling fast; sweat forming at his temples dripping down his red cheeks. He hadn't felt rage like this since his father had died, his actions back then were reminiscent of how he feels now.
Dylan retraces his steps, looking into the events leading up to him smashing furniture on the ground, but he knows it's too late to think like this. He was having fun only yesterday, enjoying life with his siblings, the worries were so far behind him then, but it seems to ambush him just at the right moment.
He was so close to being free from the Hunger Games. He wanted to focus on his life after the Reapings, get himself together and not have it eat at the back of his head, as it has done so for several years, but fate seems to have a different plan for him.
He sits broken on the floor amongst the splinters and the debris. He could feel the tears well up in his eyes, but he balls his fists as he hits his thighs as hard as he could. He does this several times, feeling the pain course through his skin, trying to stop himself from crying. He will not cry over this, he would not shed a tear for the Capitol for taking away his freedom.
He takes a deep breath as he continues to sit on the white carpeted floor. His brown eyes scan the damage he had done in the room. In a way, it feels cathartic ruining the room and in a different way the anger and anguish draining from his body. His head clearing up now, the red smoke dispersing as it shifts to the Hunger Games.
The door to the room opens up and for a moment he thinks that he's going to get in trouble but his eyes light up slightly as his siblings file in along with their mother and his close friend Kai. His siblings rush towards him avoiding all the broken furniture and tackling him to the ground until they all collapse on the floor.
At this moment he feels his heart brighten up as they share a laugh together. His sisters, too young to understand completely what is happening just continue to laugh. His brother, Finn, stays quiet after their laughing fit. They sit with him on the floor a sombre atmosphere gathering in the air.
His mother kneels beside him and he tries to avoid her sad gaze. The once tough woman is reduced to sadness once more. Dylan didn't want to see that again, despite the anger he felt, his heart always pang whenever he sees his mother in this way.
Cool hands reach for his face, however, cupping it making Dylan face her, sad eyes staring right at him. He could feel the pain in his heart as he could see the tears falling from his mother's eyes. They stay like this for a second, his mother taking a moment to let her feel the anguish before returning to her usually stern face.
"My son." She finally speaks, voice quivering slightly before she coughs fixing herself. "Come back to us, I will not allow you to leave us so soon."
"I will." He says nodding quickly, his mother had gone through enough for him to add to her grief is not what he wants to do.
His siblings tug at his sleeves and their mother lets him go at that moment as Dylan looks at Kendra. He gives her a smile, a reassuring one, that he knows always works with them. Opening his arms he ushers Kendra and Ariel together and squeezes them tight into an embrace. He places a kiss on their head, enjoying the smell of home within them, committing it to memory.
"You look after your brother, now." He tells them and they just giggle. "Look after him for me because he's going to get into fights protecting the both of you."
"We will!" Kendra says with a smile. "But you'll be back soon, right?"
"I will be, just have to go away for a few weeks." He says, a white lie to her, and maybe himself as he looks at Finn now. "You look after them for me, okay?"
His brother only nods his head, the tears dripping down his face as he comes in for a hug. His mother stands up and his sisters follow suit as they pull away from him. Finn stays a little longer before standing up and joining their mother. She doesn't say anything else, just a quick nod of her head as she leaves the room; his siblings follow her with a wave.
The room falls into silence once again. Dylan, still on the floor, looks up at the ceiling, and he sighs out loud. Kai stifles a laugh as he offers a hand to him. He pulls him up to his feet before they join together in a hug, with Kai patting his back and Dylan doing the same.
"You know you've got this in the bag, right?" Kai says to him then he looks around the room. "Just do what you did here to everyone in the arena."
They laugh together. The anger melts away from him as Kai continues his jokes. The duo being friends since they were little, and Kai has always been good at relieving the stress away from Dylan. He always appreciates that about him, a personal destresser. He sighs again looking at Kai.
"You'll look after them for me, won't you?" Dylan starts. "Just in case I don't come back."
"You will come back," Kai replies grasping at his shoulders and shaking him. "You may not have trained the last couple of years, but the training in Triton is very hard to forget."
"Still."
"Yes, Dylan, I will look after them, you never had to ask."
"Thank you."
"But you need to promise me that you will fight, and use the knowledge you got from Triton to your advantage," Kai says, seriously this time looking him straight in the eye.
He nods his head. He will forgo his resentment towards the academy, despite making his skin crawl. Kai pulls him into another hug just as the Peacekeeper opens the door telling him to leave the room. They pull away from the hug just as the Peacekeeper is escorting him away from the room.
"Just remember your training!"
The door stays open for a few minutes, and he finds that he's just staring at it. He blinks away his daydreaming as Tide Seaworth walks in, an apologetic look on his face. He wonders why he is here, and just as he is about to ask the older man speaks first.
"Mr Manta." He says, coughing to clear his throat, mulling over his thoughts, and Dylan can feel something is off. "I will offer my condolences first, I am here to formally apologise."
"What do you mean?" He asks coming forward a little bit, a bit of anger rising in his tone.
"We did have a volunteer for this year's Games, but for some reason he didn't…well…volunteer." He shuffles his words.
"And my name just happens to be the one picked from the bowl?" He can feel the fury coming back. "That's bullshit!
Ziva Matterson, District Five Female, Eighteen
There's a sense of melancholy in her mind as she watches people leave the centre. Her last ever Reapings and she is here, ready to go to the Hunger Games. She doesn't know how to feel just yet as she traces a hand over the glass window of the Justice Building, not a speck of dust anywhere.
She squints her eyes from the sunlight peeking through the clouds. She can feel the warmth even through the glass as she continues to draw imaginary shapes, tapping slightly with calloused fingers. She smiles at the warmth, welcoming it and missing it as it disappears behind dark clouds.
Ziva does wish she can just come back to the bunker once again, as much as the sun feels nice on her skin. She wants to feel a good book in her hand once again, the paper gliding with her fingertips as she turns the page, information being processed in her head.
She supposes that wishing for something like this is because her thoughts are quickly escalating. Her mandated time outside of the home only lasts two to three hours, and she's been outside her safe space for more than that. She can feel that same feeling yesterday in her skin, thinking about home distracts her from that.
Her entire life has been spent within this bunker from the moment she was born until today. Her life has changed, and she doesn't quite know if it's for the best, she doesn't know how to feel about everything being so new. She thinks about how she might be away for more than a few weeks, even up to a month and she closes her reeling herself in for a moment.
She supposes that she might not even make it back alive, her efforts of preparing with her father all in vain, and that somehow makes her feel unsettled. The concept of death is not entirely new; her own mother died when she was born, yet she supposes that she's never experienced someone dying, so she doesn't know how to feel about that either.
She furrows her eyebrows as she thinks about how little she knows of the world around her beyond the books she reads, and even at that point the books only talk about strategy and other tactical terms. Ziva continues to stare out the window thinking that maybe she liked the gossip Ingrid Southpaw gave her when she was allowed to go outside, a chance to learn something different.
Now Ziva has to learn everything all over again. She knows about the Games, despite living in a bunker, it is an unavoidable threat. The concept of fighting to the death all for some petty glory, that's something that she does not care too much about; none of it matters. Not when, in the grand scheme of things, the world is going to end soon.
The world is coming to an end, she knows this, her father knows this, and yet the world is acting like nothing out of the ordinary is happening. The rest of the world is acting as if the next couple of years is just going to be the same old celebration of death.
She looks around the room, observing how everything is decorated in a fancy way. Curtains hang from the ceiling all the way down to the floor, lush velour merging with clean carpets. She supposes the end of the world doesn't really matter to the Capitol, considering all the frivolity; they have the Hunger Games to look forward to every year after all.
Ziva walks way from the window after most of the crowds disperse, walking calmly to one of the plush red chairs in the middle of the room and taking a seat. She examines the elaborately designed carpets once again, it's nothing like the bunker, far from it.
Her quiet observing is disrupted by the two wooden doors slamming open. The force of the doors as they slam reverberating the walls making most of the paintings shudder as her father walks in, anger and fury on his face. She stands up in attention, arms by her side and face looking up as he approaches her.
He grabs at her jumpsuit feeling the heat of his anger radiate off him and onto her. She can feel her heart beat nervous as he grabs her close. She can see, from the corner of her eyes, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip. She does not dare look at her father, instead keeping her head high as he begins to speak to her.
"You must come back to me at once! Do you hear me!?" He shouts at her, his face getting redder as he begins to get more frustrated. "You…we…are not done with your training, everything about the apocalypse, the end of the world. WE. ARE. NOT. FINISHED!"
Her father lets her go, Ziva stumbling backward onto the lush red chair once again. She watches in fear as her father picks up a chair, and in all his rage smashes it toward the ornate carpet, all the while her father's word circulates in her head, the once calm melancholic nature of her mind buzzing around like a hive of bees.
Ziva flinches every time the furniture collides with the floor and his words echo in her head with each smash of the furniture. Her heart rate seems to elevate faster now, feeling the panic inside her build up, the beating of her heart thumping against her rib cage.
He continues to smash the chair, moving from the paintings on the wall and throwing it against it. The ruckus he's causing alerts the attention of all the Peacekeepers rushing in to take the man away. Ziva snaps out of her panic rushing towards her father's aid but the Peacekeepers tell her to stop as they attempt to subdue her father.
She wants to help her father, but her need to obey those in higher power stops her completely. She is the product of her father's discipline and she stops completely listening to the Peacekeeper as their colleagues grab hold of her father. He fights them back looking directly at Ziva.
"Remember, my daughter, you are not finished with our plans! You must come back to me! The world is going to end, and you cannot be in the Capitol before it does!" The drag him away, out of the room, his voice and shouts echoing in the hallway before the doors close.
Ziva begins to bite the tip of her thumb, frozen where she stands, staring at the wooden doors. Her mind then begins to think about her father, and all of the words he had said to her, as she does so she begins to pace continuing to think about him.
The world is ending, she knows this, the Hunger Games is her obstacle to overcome. She is ready to fight in order to come back to her father. What she is not ready for is the end. She can feel a sense of panic rise within her again, that same feeling of nervousness so unlike of her creeps up on her.
She will return, she'll survive whatever the Capitol throws at her.
Juniper Cassidy, District Eleven Female, Fifteen
The silent humming of the train feels comforting somehow, even though the train is speeding towards the Capitol at a pace she had never experienced before. The droning noise blocks out any thoughts of worry as she thinks about the tearful goodbye with her family. The quietness of everything seems to help in that regard, the scent of her family still lingering in her clothes, the smell of the district still tangling in her hair and skin.
Her Reaping clothes are all she has left of her home, the nicest dress she had ever worn, a creamy-coloured ensemble with white sandals. She is still finding the courage to change out of them, wanting to keep everyone close to her, even for another night before she plunges into the Capitol. She sighs as she feels the blanket on the bed she sits on, it feels soft against her hand; the bed it sits on is bigger than half the room that she shares with her sisters.
She has not left her room since entering the train, heading straight towards her designated room not even saying pleasantries to anyone. Her only mentor, Bergamot, does not even care that she had practically locked herself in the room, with no one to check on her for the last hour or so.
There is this feeling of anger inside her, however, that Juniper wants to let out. She loves her family, and as tearful a goodbye it was, and the promises made that she'll return, she is angry that she is being separated from them. She is abandoning them, when they barely make enough to survive, for the enjoyment of the Capitol.
She feels the blanket between her hands once again as she stares up at the ceiling, ornately decorated with patterns that can make one easily confused if stared at for too long. Her sigh is heavy as she lies on the bed, feeling guilty that she is living a life of comfort, and her family sits back at their dishevelled home in Eleven. The luxurious nature of everything, the train, the blankets, and even the walls seem to give her a guilty feeling. Juniper is being pampered whilst her family, her brother and sisters, lay on the most uncomfortable bed for the night.
It makes her sick to the stomach.
She wants to pick up something and throw it angrily at something, to see something the Capitol has spent money on smashed to pieces but she stops herself remembering something her brother had told her inside the Justice Building. Juniper takes a deep breath instead, her brother telling her to stay calm whilst at the Capitol, to garner trust between the Capitolites and maybe support her.
He's right, he's always right when it comes to other people's perceptions, but her brother thinks that she wouldn't be able to survive without some form of alliance with other tributes. She scoffs at that statement from him. She is resourceful, knowing how to live day by day when their entire family has been at the bottom of the barrel.
She doesn't need allies, she knows that she can survive whatever the Capitol throws at her. Juniper stands up as she paces the room lost in thought. Whatever good that happens from now until the end of the Games can only be a win in her book, she doesn't need allies because she knows she can do this on her own.
There's a knock on the door and Juniper stops to look at it for a moment. It doesn't slide open, instead, the muffled voice of their Capitol Escort is the only thing she can hear. She cautiously approaches the door as she knocks once again. She looks at the door waiting for Juniper to speak only for the Escort to speak again.
"Juniper, darling, won't you come out and at least eat something?" She said and Juniper can barely help her eyes from rolling as she retreats from the door.
Kitty Seton doesn't completely understand the gravity of their situation. Her concerns are more about what they're going to wear as a first impression for the Capitol crowds the minute they get off the train, or whatever the stylists' plans are for the upcoming chariot event.
Juniper cannot stand the woman but the advice from her brother echoes in her head once again as Kitty knocks on the door once more trying to get her attention. She releases another heavy sigh as she moves towards the door making it slide open for Kitty to see her.
"Ah, there you are." She smiles at her and Juniper just politely smiles back. "Will you please come and join me and Bergamot for some food? Have you eaten at all today?"
Juniper can only remember the soup from last night as her only source of sustenance, skipping breakfast so that her sisters can have something to eat, she is used to not eating much during the course of the day that she had forgotten about food entirely.
"I'll just wash up." She says wanting to add something else to the sentence but her brother's words are in the forefront of her mind.
Kitty seems to like the response as she smiles and nods. She points out that there are various clothes inside the closet that she can change into if she so chooses. Juniper stifles her gratitude as she closes the door on her once more backing away from the door.
Juniper makes her way to the en suite bathroom gawking at the size it. She feels like it's bigger than the room she shares with her sisters. The mirror opposite the door reflects herself; a tired look, her hair a black frizzy mess. She doesn't remember the last time she ever looked at herself like this, and now she knows why she doesn't look often.
She moves toward the sink splashing her face with warm water against her sun-dried face, washing off the dirt and dust of Eleven watching the water as it circles the drain. She moves to wipe her face, her face looking slightly better. She wants to take a shower, but she'll do that later, Kitty is expecting her anytime now.
When she walks out of her room she bumps into Rohn, her district partner. He looks her up and down scoffing as he continues towards the food compartment of the train. She raises her eyebrows holding her tongue, which is rare for her, noting that he's ditched all of his Reaping clothes in favour of the Capitol luxuries.
Kitty is sitting at the dinner table when she arrives just after Rohn, buttering some bread. She looks elated at their appearance standing up and pointing with her hand for them both to sit. Bergamot is already sitting beside the Escort eating his food in silence.
"Please sit my darlings!" She says excitedly sitting down.
Juniper reluctantly takes the seat beside Rohn, who already grabs at every food that is on offer. He begins to stuff his face and Juniper can't help but stare in disgust as Kitty begins the procession of events. She partially listens to her speak, taking a bite of some beef and unable to hide the deliciousness of it.
"Well, I suppose we open the table towards you two," Kitty says finishing her ramblings. "We, Bergamot and I, often ask if our tributes are going to ally this year?"
"I'll cut to the chase," Juniper speaks first having cleared her mouth from the food. "I am not allying with anyone, let's make it easy for us going forward."
"You don't seem all that put together anyway," Rohn says beside her and she looks at him with a glare.
"At least I still have my dignity." She challenges him and he just smiles.
"I'm where I was born to be." He says to her. "Don't hate me because it's taking you longer to realise."
She holds her breath in. She really wants to throw him against the wall right now.
Amorette Lokiran, District Twelve Female, Eighteen
Her skin smells of roses and lavender. Two flowers pertain to a calming scent, soothing the nerves trickling around her skin. The champagne in her hand may have something to do with those nerves too now that she thinks about it. She feels the luxury around her as she takes a sip of her drink, the silk robe hugging her comfortably after her shower.
She sits beside the window of the dining compartment staring out at the moon. The heavenly body is bright in the night sky, illuminating the path towards the Capitol. She sips some more from the flute savouring the bitterness enjoying the silent humming and feeling the moon's glow through the window. She looks away briefly, seeing the bubbling drink in the glass, she swirls it around a few times before she downs the rest of it.
Amora is living the life she always wanted, and what was denied to her since her childhood. The food, the clothes, the setting, everything is perfect, except for the company. She glances with wary eyes towards her district partner, sitting on the opposite side of the compartment within the dinner table, reading some trashy Capitol magazine.
He doesn't avoid her glance, instead staring right back at her, not even reading the magazine. She looks away from the glare instead standing up to get another glass of champagne, feeling uneasy from the continuous stare. She looks towards the window again, ignoring the gaze. If she focuses enough she can see the light from the moon illuminating the mountains surrounding Twelve.
The atmosphere is beginning to become tense, her dark emerald eyes avoiding her district partner. She moves to sit back down beside the window, a sigh leaving her lips as she holds the drink in her hand. Her situation at the moment is not really what she wants. Everything is perfect spare the people that are accompanying her on her journey. Their mentor, Thorium Cole, has disappeared into the ether after saying pleasantries, never to be seen again it seems.
Their Escort, well she doesn't know where he is at the moment. This means she is all alone, save for the endless stares. She is used to being by herself. She buries the thoughts as she continues to stare at the moon. It really does look amazing tonight, reminiscent of when she would tell the patrons of her shop that her potions were charged by the moon to make them more potent. She must now make the moon her own spotlight now, use it to her advantage, and use it to empower herself.
The door slides open in the compartment taking her attention away from the window to see their Escort, Louis, walking in. His suit is off completely seemingly looking more relaxed. The man has his white shirt rolled to his elbows, he nods at Sora, raising an eyebrow at his staring at Amora, before moving to the drinks cart.
"Have you two become well acquainted, then?" He asks them both as he fixes himself a drink before going to sit beside Amora on the velvet sofa.
"If staring at me since the Reapings count as being 'well acquainted', then yes we are well acquainted," Amora tells the Escort sitting beside her with a fixed smile, taking another sip of the alcohol. "It is quite creepy though if you ask me."
She glances over to the boy staring at her, tucking loose black hair behind her ear. Amora can see him scoff as he finally breaks the stare and flicks through the magazine not really reading anything. Louis flicks his eyes between the two of them and just sighs.
"It is truly an effort to make my tributes get along every year." He sighs as he down the amber liquid in his hand. "Does it hurt you to get along, or is that just the nature of the Twelve?"
"If it wasn't for this farce, then you would fear me." Her district partner finally speaks up, and Amora raises an eyebrow at him, he continues to not look at her now, flicking the pieces of paper on the magazine without a care in the world, which for some reason irritated her even more.
"In what world would I end up fearing you?" She says turning around to face him fully now, the champagne flute abandoned on the window sill.
"You're acting like a complete and utter fool."
Amora snaps knocking over her drink, the contents spilling on the dark green carpet, the bubbly mixture staining it. She stands up heading toward the boy, Louis stopping her but she just pushes the man aside. She heads towards the table snatching the magazine from him and throwing it away. He stops and looks at her, a bored expression on his face.
"The only person here acting a fool is you." She says as she crosses her eyes, dark green eyes glaring at him, and the boy just smirks.
"If I am a fool, then I hate to break it to you Amora." There is creepiness in the way he says her name, almost like a shadowy vine caressing her face. "I have decided that you are not worth it, you are just like her, callous and disrespectful."
"I don't know what you're talking about." She says. "You don't know what I went through, the hardships I had to endure."
It is true that she has faced hardships, growing up alone for the majority of her life. Her parents spend more time with other kids to truly look after her. She had grown to be self-sufficient, having to learn how to look after herself from a young age.
"You want to know true hardship?" He says finally standing up placing both hands on the table, his voice menacing, Louis stands beside Amora just in case a fight breaks out. "Have you ever watched your parents die in front of you?"
Amora looks him directly in the eyes, green meeting brown, scanning for a lie. She is not sure if what he just said is true or not, but by the way, he grips the edges of the table and the way his jaw clenches afterwards, she can tell that something did happen to her parents. She does not know what to say as Sora lets go of the table.
"I thought so." He finally says going to pick the magazine on the floor, sitting back down at the table and continuing to read it.
Amora doesn't say anything else as she leaves the compartment heading directly for her room, the door sliding open into her luxurious room. She waits until the door closes before she collapses on her bed for the night. She does not know if it's the alcohol coursing through her mind but she did not expect that outburst from her.
She needs to calm down. Amora needs all the help she can get, she will use the rest of the journey to formulate some form of plan. She would need to be noticeable from the moment she gets off, practice hard and catch the attention of the Capitol.
First, she's going to have to find a way to destroy her district partner.
Ancartha Redlock, District Two Female, Seventeen
A comfortable silence settles between them all, the dinner table presenting a calm atmosphere. The sounds of silver cutlery hitting pristine white china mingled with the soft droning of the speeding train. There's small talk here and there but never really interesting enough to warrant a response from her, she just offers a nod and a smile.
The amicable dinner is going well, with their mentors: Brasidas and Adrestia, talking quietly to each other across the table. Her district partner, Domitian, is in the same boat as her, sitting in the quietness playing with his food. It looks like he has barely touched his food, just merely shuffling it about the plate.
Adrestia's conversation begins to involve their Escort now, Jean, as he drones on about the latest Capitol news, and how the next couple of days is going to proceed. Ancartha half listens as she takes another bite of the bread on her plate, amazed at how everything tastes twice as better as in Two.
Despite the chattering between the three most adult people at the dining table, Ancartha's thoughts about the next couple of days occupy her head. The moment of that same glory she felt at the Reapings seemingly diminishing at the gravitas of it all settles within her. There's a sense of shock, not wholly believing that she's still here, thundering down towards the Capitol, towards the Hunger Games. She takes a bite of the steak in front of her to stop herself from panicking, savouring the flavour.
She starts to plan inside her mind; a plan to present herself properly and correctly to the Capitolites for the upcoming week. She knows their eager eyes will be forever scrutinising her every move, how their perceptions of her will all depend on how she looks in front of the cameras. Ancartha can fight, she knows she can, but presenting herself to the whole of Panem? She doesn't know how to do that at all.
That thought lingers, the plan circling in her head continues as she takes another bite of her food; ruining the taste in her mouth. She doesn't want to adopt some sort of persona to look appealing to the Capitol. However, her best friend had told her to work on it, to present a calmer Ancartha, to look presentable, with the notion that they will view her differently if she does not.
Ancartha hates this act, having practised it a few times back at home. She finds it revolting to hide her true feelings. She knows that Dele, her best friend, is right though, he's always the one that's more thoughtful. He knew way back when she was chosen as the volunteer that she would have to adopt a 'nice' persona.
She wishes that he is here with her right now. A chance to see him once again and not just a brief moment in the Justice Building where they hug before she left the district, Dele awaiting her return. She had always fantasised about Dele and her together in the Games, fighting everyone side-by-side. They would have been an iconic duo that the Capitol would talk about forever.
Instead, Domitian is with her. Her grey eyes flash a look towards her district partner once again, his face still downcast fixated on rearranging his food. She doesn't really know how to speak to him, despite knowing about each other for a while now. They never really had a moment to interact with each other despite going to the same academy together.
Jean seems to notice the both of them sitting in silence clearing his throat and opening up the conversation he was having with the mentors to the rest of the table. Ancartha looks away from Domitian and trains her eyes to the Escort, he smiles at her, and she forces a friendly smile his way too.
"How are you finding the food? Is it delicious?" He asks them both, looking at her briefly before looking at Domitian who finally lifts his head from his contemplation.
"Yeah, it's good, very nutritious." Domitian musters a response, and Ancartha tries her best to stifle her laugh. Domitian seems to frown as he focuses his attention on her now. "What?"
"'…very nutritious…'" She repeats in a mocking fashion, hoping that her making light of his response can break the awkward ice forming between them. "I'm sorry but that lie was not very convincing."
She places the silver cutlery on the table as she continues to giggle, covering her mouth. She does notice the corners of Domitian's mouth twitch, unlike that of a smile before actually smiling at her joke. She stops giggling, raising an eyebrow before returning back to a more neutral smile.
"I say we talk about something else," Jean says wiping at his mouth with the napkin.
"Why don't we start talking about strategy and planning over the next few days." Adrestia starts placing her own cutlery down as she leans forward in her seat. "Let's get the most obvious out of the way; are you two planning on forming an alliance together?"
"If Domitian is up for an alliance, then I don't mind staying together." Ancartha starts as she looks at Domitian, who looks unsure of the situation. She wants to roll her eyes at his reluctance but instead continues to speak. "The way I see it: Domitian is the strongest boy trainee in Gladius and I am the strongest girl."
"It would better the odds for you two to stick together in the arena." Brasidas finally chimes in after finishing his food. "It's a sound strategy, allies can help at a vital time in there."
Domitian perks up now at the conversation of strategy as he clears his throat leaving his food as he begins to spill his thoughts. "I…I'll be happy to form an alliance with you, Ancartha, but I think we should look for more alliances other than just us two."
"Do you mean to include other tributes?" She asks him leaning forward, then she looks at Adrestia and Brasidas as they begin to think.
Lately, tributes from their district have been forming alliances with other districts, within the last ten or so years have they seen a rise in Two tributes allying with like-minded individuals, which normally present themselves as District One or Four in some cases.
Ancartha's only problem with this is that she would need to see the rest of them first in order to make a decision on whether or not they would make the alliance. She will reserve judgement until then, although she doesn't think anyone would be better than her, and she definitely thinks Domitian has some sort of weakness.
She's watching his every move, his reactions to certain words, his movements. She is enjoying every small sign he is showing. She flashes a smile at him when he goes back to look at her, and he meekly smiles back at her. She'll keep up appearances and then stab them all in the back when it comes to it.
A/N - An update! Ahoy there! The world is ending!
The format for the Pre-games will be as such, 5 POVs where we explore everything and everyone. This means there would be at least 2 POVs per tribute from Trains to Night before. The bloodbath is so close tho!
What does everyone think of everyone so far? The growing tension between Juniper and Rohn, as well as Amorette and Sora? Also, Ancartha being sneaky? Dylan seems to have some form of anger issues and Ziva's determination to come back due to the apocalypse!?
Anyway, Chariots is next! Hope you guys are excited for that.
Listen to After Like by IVE; it's good.
Cheers!
~Alec
