Datura
Deceitful Charms
Cal Acheron, District One Male, Eighteen
Inside the ornately decorated train, a quiet humming mingles with the atmosphere, a sense of comfortable silence wistfully dancing around them as breakfast cutlery produces small melodious clinks as they bump into pristine white china.
The breakfast table is a quiet affair, to say the least. The small talk disturbs the silence now and again if only to make the speaker less uncomfortable at that moment. It's mainly coming from their Escort. Dora, as she talks about the latest Capitol fashion or what is trending at this moment.
Cal supposes that she is just filling the quiet void because she is not used to having two quiet tributes, or that's what Chanelle said the night before anyway. He doesn't have anything to contribute to the conversation and to him that is fine, he'll stay quiet.
He looks across towards Ilia as she cuts a piece of her pancakes chewing quietly to herself. She has not said much in the last couple of hours, just generally agreeing with what their mentors are saying, making quips now and again at Dora, who seems to just huff every time she would point out the extravagance of everything.
He finds Ilia interesting. She doesn't say much, much like him, although she has spoken more than he has the last day or so, and when she does speak out her thoughts it's normally to respond to what someone else has said, seemingly keeping to herself currently. It's like she's hiding something behind this bored and carefree mask she seems to exude, and that scares Cal to no end.
They know each other's secrets.
The night of the Reaping Gala was certainly interesting. It's something that he does not want to ever talk about again, yet, it pops into his head time and time again. The memory popped into the front of his head, seeing Elian's lips curve into that smile after their chaste kiss outside the mayoral mansion. He cringes at the thought of ever smiling back at him, and yet he did do exactly that.
His first problem was falling in love with someone so manipulative in the first place. The route of all his heartaches and the way he is today stems from the very same person he flocked to on his last night in One. There are moments in his life that Cal has come to regret, and this is one of them; not to mention the guilty feeling that he feels at this moment in time.
He feels disgusted at the person he had become. He remembers crying about this moment the day he volunteered, the room in the Justice Building trapping his sadness before coming out of it with a fake smile on his face, compartmentalising his feelings, shelving the conversation another day, if ever.
He could see his district partner flash a look at him only for her to go back to eating her food. Cal looks down, his appetite going away as he plays with the porridge inside its bowl. How could he do that to himself? He makes a pained face as he stops holding onto the spoon and just opts to sit as Dora goes over the itinerary for the day.
"Hey, are you okay?" Chanelle whispers beside him, and all he could do was smile and nod, and she gives a comforting smile. "You're not getting cold feet are you?"
Had it not been for the fact that he is trapped, he would have found her response humorous. He chose this to be his fate now so he could never leave, he doesn't smile at her little joke but the intention is not lost on him. Chanelle, he has found out in the last day or so, likes to make things light around her tributes. She can be a fierce woman for sure, but she projects this maternal aura all the time, protecting and guiding her tributes to the very best of her abilities.
"Are you sure?" She asks again, frowning this time as she scans his entire face, making Cal uncomfortable.
He begins to think of a response, a suitable lie that would suffice in the meantime. He looks down, his hands suddenly playing with themselves as he opts to just nod his head, and Chanelle seems to accept that, whether she believes him or not that's another question.
He glances at Ilia once more finishing her food. She was there the night he embarrassed himself all again. She had said that she did not remember seeing him back then and he doesn't know if he believes that or not. She's maybe hiding the fact that she knows because he had seen her assaulting the mayor's son that night too, blissfully unaware.
Cal doesn't like that. Lying about the events of that night means lying to yourself and that doesn't sit well with him. He has lied enough in his life and he is fed with it all. He wants to start fresh in the Capitol, these could very well be the last few days, weeks, of his life and he wants to live it without any more regrets.
"The train should be stopping in the next ten minutes, so our lovely tributes should get ready." Dora smiles wiping at the corners of her mouth with the white napkin. "Now when the doors open, there will be cameras, I warn you now, but it is very exciting, yes?"
"Painfully," Ilia responds as she wipes her mouth with the napkin. "Are there any more pompous excitement we should be aware of when we get there?"
"Ilia!" Sibyl shouts at her startling Cal. The other victor had just been in her own world too but now coming back to snap at her tribute. "I'm sorry for surprising you, Cal, and you, Ilia, would it hurt to speak with a bit of manner?"
"It hurts a lot, Sibyl, now excuse me, I have to get ready for the cameras." She says as she stands from the table leaving the dining cart.
"Sibyl…" Chanelle starts but Sibyl just shakes her head as she stands up too and heads in the other direction.
"I'm going to…I'm just going to leave, I'll see you in ten minutes then." Cal too stands and he could see the hurt in Chanelle's eyes as he leaves the table.
He follows the familiar hallway now, his body guiding him towards their bedrooms, but instead of stopping at his, he continues to move towards Ilia's own room. His head screams at him to talk to her again about the situation, even though he knows that she is fed up talking about it already.
Cal stops at the door, his hand knocking at the door, opening quickly. Ilia rolls her eyes at his nervous smile as she goes back to sit on her bed. She pats the bed beside her, beckoning him to come and sit beside her. He shuffles inside the room, his hands fiddling with themselves again as they sit, the silence growing uncomfortable.
"Well, spit it out then." She sighs as she folds her arms across her chest. "Don't think I didn't see you at the table glancing eyes at me, you better not ask me about that night at the gala."
"Well, it is about that night in the gala." He starts and he can see her eyes roll again sighing with exasperation.
"Cal." She starts looking him straight in the eyes with piercing dark brown eyes. "If you speak to me about that night at the gala one more time then this alliance is not going to work out."
"I just want to know what you think about me sleeping around." He looks at her with a sense of nervousness, it's like he's being lectured by their teachers at Beacon.
"I don't claim to know your relationships, that night at the gala? Forgotten, I don't care to know about who you were sleeping with." She says grabbing at his shoulders, Cal stumbling through his words. "If you haven't noticed, Cal Acheron, we're going to the Hunger Games, stuff like that night at the gala doesn't matter anymore!"
She is shaking him vigorously, her piercing eyes softening a little. She lets go of him after a few more shakes and he just sighs. She doesn't say anything at that moment, allowing him to formulate a response or gather his thoughts.
"I guess you're right." He says after a few minutes of silence.
"I'm always right." She says with a straight face. "I want you to repeat this: Whoever I slept with at the gala does not matter."
"What?" Cal looks at her with wide eyes. "I-I don't know."
"That's not the phrase I want you to repeat." She says slapping his arm lightly. "Go and repeat it."
"Whoever I slept with…at the gala does not matter." He says to himself and he smiles, a genuine one, although it's small.
"Now repeat that every time you think of this person and you'll be fine."
Uri Fukuro, District Three Male, Eighteen
In his dreams, they would lay together on a mattress like clouds. Soft touches here and there, whispers of sweet nothings dancing around his ears. Her smile was heavenly to him, the best thing that he had seen in his life. White silken sheets would cover them, hiding them from the outside world, protecting them from those that would ever judge or do them harm. The smell of lemongrass and lavender wafts through his nose as she hugs him closer.
A recurring dream, happening from time to time, he sees this as a sign of affection from her. It reminds him of his purpose and his aims for himself and his sister. The dream would make the silken sheets fly almost all the time, a gentle breeze would take the layer away and be replaced with smiling faces. They surround their bed, hands holding as their smiles emit warmth; all of those faces he had offered to his sister, every one of them happy in their little paradise.
Uri jolts awake from his pleasant sleep at the loud knock of the door, so harshly that he mutters to himself. He wipes at the light sheen of sweat forming on his forehead as he directs his gaze at the door, his face twisting into annoyance at the sound.
"Uri, time to go, we'll be at the Capitol in ten minutes." Rolex Parker says in a sharp tone, he realises that the two had set off on the wrong foot after their talk last night.
He pushes that aside for now as he leaps out of the confines of his bed, the red velvet sheets falling to the carpeted floor. He heads for the bathroom splashing his face with cold water to try and wake him up a little bit. He wipes at his face with the soft towels before looking at his reflection in the mirror, dark eyes staring not only at him but his sister appearing behind him.
"My dear brother." She smiles, and a ghostly white face much like a porcelain doll stares back at him. "Today is the day we start our new project."
"Yes, my dear sister, more friends for you." He says almost desperately wanting so much to feel her touch again. "Anything to make you happy."
Koiru just nods her head, small strands of her hair falling to cover her face as she disappears in a hazy smoke. He lingers his stare at where she once was before continuing with his morning face routine. He wants to make his sister proud after all.
He exits the bathroom, putting on the best pair of Capitol clothing, an ethereal like shirt and trousers. Uri fixes himself in the mirror before leaving the best night's sleep he has had in ages. His quiet footsteps trailed down the hallway past the dining cart, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and into the exit cart where everyone is standing waiting for him.
Rolex eyes him up and down, a grumpy face so early in the morning. Uri just gives him a smile as he bites into the nice juicy apple. He looks past his grumpy mentor to look at Portia, his district partner, looking terrified, and he wants to go and comfort her, but Rolex had already told him to stay away from her to which he just frowns.
He bites into the apple once more, smiling as he greets everyone in the cart. "Good morning everybody! I have a feeling that today is going to be spectacular!"
His greeting seems to fall on deaf ears but he continues his smile, chewing on the apple he is currently eating. He supposes that last night's conversation has soured their mood on him, which is not entirely his fault after Tess, their Escort, had asked about his interests.
He had answered, truthfully, that he liked sex, the rougher the better and after that, no one had spoken to him, not in active conversation at least. Rolex had taken him aside after dinner and told him to stay away from Portia and he had threatened him that he would make his days in the Capitol painful.
Uri stayed calm, seeing no problem with what he had said at the dinner table at the time. Rolex just narrowed his eyes before they returned to the dinner table. The atmosphere back then had been tense, but Uri still could not see what was wrong.
"Brace yourselves for the cameras," Tess says holding onto Portia's hands, the train had already stopped and is ready to disembark the latest tributes of Three, and in a second the door opens. "Here we go!"
The moment the door opens, flashes of light attack his eyes. Bright flashes of white mix with the colourful and vibrant outfits of the paparazzi. He could barely see but he could feel Rolex push him out of the train as he places a hand behind him continuing to push through the crowds.
In the moments between the flashes, he could see Peacekeepers pushing past countless people, all shouting and cheering amongst the endless barrage of lights. The chaos, the noise, the colours, all of it feeling somewhat exhilarating to Uri as he smiles.
They barge past an open door, his eyes adjusting just enough to see their destination. He closes his eyes, still feeling the push from Rolex and just after a few seconds the noise in his ear stops, a static sound, like ringing replaces it as he opens his eyes to a large hall, the white lights illuminating every nook.
He can see Tess let go of Portia's hand, patting her on the back for a job well done before moving toward two figures standing just a small distance from them. His eyes adjust as he stares that far, the two individuals make their way over too, he can see that they both wear colourful clothing, but one is more excited and the other morose to see them.
"Welcome to the Capitol, Uri and Portia!" The happier of the two exclaims as she goes to shake their hands, her face covered in makeup, a bright tint of orange at her cheeks, and her hair a beautiful shade of green. "I am Himiko and this is Yoshi."
Uri can only stare at her, a smile appearing on his face as he could hear the approval of his sister from the back of his mind. He just exchanges pleasantries with her as he goes to follow her, the woman talking excitably about the upcoming chariot and parade.
"Himiko." Yoshi speaks just as they are about to be away and the woman stops looking at the man, black hair and frown on his face, Uri raises an eyebrow at him as Yoshi looks him up and down again. "I'll take him, you can be with Portia."
"Marvellous." Uri smiles, although inside he is questioning Yoshi, stealing away potential friends for his sister. Yoshi cast a disdainful look at him before walking past Uri. He follows suit walking in silence into a brightly lit room, his face never faltering with the smile on his face. "I know we've only just met, Yoshi, but I can tell we'll get along swimmingly."
"If you dare look at Himiko like that again, I will end you." Yoshi says shoving the boy onto a chair.
"Another boring threat." Uri sighs as he looks at him through the mirror. "Rolex had made the same threat, you two are so original."
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Briar Ackers, District Seven Female, Seventeen
All of her life she had kept track of everything in a little notebook, able to recall minute details of events much to some people's annoyance. She, unfortunately, could not bring said notebook with her to the Capitol but her memory still remains.
Briar sits on a plain swivel chair, the room she's in oddly clinical in nature, bright lights and many accessories litter the desk in front of her. She takes a moment to commit them to memory, her mind fuzzy from the events leading up to her being in the room alone.
It all happened so fast.
One minute she was on the train about to make her Capitol debut and then she closes her eyes when the flashing lights assault them, and when she opens them again she is in this room. Her mentor, Gideon, leaving to arrange their sponsors already.
Briar relaxes in the seat as she stares at the ceiling lights, square panels illuminating everything. Her mind is still processing the last half hour, everything happening too fast. She is trying to assess her situation. Her memory is normally succinct but the last few hours have been such a blur for her.
She decides that she needs to explore the room, albeit small, leaving the comforts of the chair and walking toward the table. The smell of sweet flowers waft in the air, reminiscent of flower fields that sometimes appear in the forests of Seven, the very same ones that Juniper would show her on their walks in the wilderness.
She will admit that she misses everyone already. One day away from all of them has made her heart ache for home. She wants to touch the different vials, curious about what they do when the door to her room slides open startling her.
"I do apologise!" An older man walks in, taking off his black-tinted glasses and setting them down on the dresser by her seat. "Briar Ackers? Paul Drexel, your stylist for the Games, it's nice to meet you."
"Likewise." She says shaking the man's hand, she didn't want to, but she feels that her karmic scales are tipped against her so she's being cordial, in hopes that she would receive a boon, not that she would admit that to anyone.
She begins to wonder how badly she had messed up that she is now in the Hunger Games fighting for her life. Briar could recall maybe one or two serious occasions but she had always countered that with good deeds. She wants to wrack her brains some more but her stylist is already pulling her every which way.
"We don't have time to lose, Briar." He says as he guides her into the corner of the room, the corner transforming into a cubicle, a shower heard seemingly appearing from the walls. "Now go and shower, here's your towel, chop chop!"
He shoves her into the small cubicle, embarrassed at the thought of some man watching her shower but as she turns to see if the man is leering he is already at the other side of the room trying to organise everything he would need.
"I don't hear the shower running!" He calls out, not turning around.
Briar just sighs as she strips off her Reaping clothes, opting to keep them on for as long as possible before eventually having to get rid of them. She turns the shower on with a press of the button feeling the hot water burn at her skin. She recoils at the sensation, the burning too severe.
"The burning isn't permanent, sweetie." He says to her. "It burns initially but it will eventually soothe everything."
True enough, the stylist's words are true as the once burning sensation feels comfortable, almost enjoyable as she washes. She takes a few more minutes to finish off before wrapping a towel around herself, Paul asks if she is decent and when she responds he turns around with a smile.
"We have much to do yet, Briar." He says as he guides her to her seat.
He claps his hands and a set of other stylists walk in and they practically surround the girl from Seven. Briar's hesitant eyes dart between the colourful facades, with Paul smiling at her through the mirror. He just nods his head, a reassurance from him that they won't hurt her.
"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to such crowds." She says and Paul just laughs it off as he goes to work on her hair.
"Don't worry, tributes never are, but trust me when I say I am on your side." He says as he continues to attach leaves to her hair.
She just nods, offering a small smile in return for Paul's big one. She can feel brushes tickle her bare arms and legs, her looking down to see that they are painting her skin a dark shade of brown, whilst others seemingly draw lines over it, making it look like bark on her skin. They tie green like ivy around her legs and arms as Paul finishes off her hair.
Briar looks at herself in the mirror, she no longer resembles the girl from Seven that tempts karma now and again, but more of a hideous monstrosity, a person made of tree. She feels exposed, embarrassed and humiliated as she tries her best to look pleased with the result.
Paul asks her to stand up and as she does so he places a tunic made of dried leaves over her torso. The soft crunching of leaves makes it feel like home in the autumn. Somehow, the outfit didn't look as terrible, and yet she is still unrecognisable.
"Perfect." He says and the assistants leave.
She doesn't feel perfect, far from it, but she makes nice with the stylist. His words rang in her ear, she'll trust him for now, he knows what he's doing after all. She thinks that being agreeable, especially so early into her Capitol debut would be beneficial.
She wants to tip the scales back so that it's all balance again. She wants to start the Games with a clean slate, and she believes firmly that being sent to the Games has massive backlash on her part. She takes his hand as he guides her through a different doorway.
Briar follows the stylist down a hall and into elevators taking her into a larger area. The sand-covered stables is in full view as she makes her way down the marble steps. The smell of horses replacing the sweet scent from the room, her feet touching sand, unusual as she doesn't think she's ever felt sand before.
Paul continues to talk, Briar drowning him out slightly, as she passes by golden chariots with two horses in front of each of them. She passes by two people in a heated scowling match with each other, the girl's arm folded as she glares not only at her district partner but at her too.
"They look happy," Paul comments as he trudges through the sand, and then he waves another finger at the next pair. "So do these two."
He points at two smaller tributes locked into an argument, although it's hard to take them seriously when they have fruit sticking out of them in every direction. She looks past them ahead of several other horses and chariots, passing by an amicable couple as they talk quietly amongst themselves.
"Here we are," Paul says as he turns around. "Remember, Briar, trust the process."
"Thank you." She musters as he nods his head leaving her alone, her district partner, Vincent, doesn't seem to be around just yet.
She hears the horses whinny beside her. She doesn't recall ever meeting a horse before, in fact only sees one when the Games are on every year during mandatory viewing of events. She wants to pet their brown mane, the horses seem to look at her as if willing to do it.
"You can touch them." She looks behind her, not noticing the girl approach her. "The horses, I mean."
The girl smiles at her, handing Briar some sugar cubes with gloved hands. She seems to be dressed plainly, in a white shirt underneath a black blazer with a black cap, evoking a train conductor. Briar doesn't move her hands leaving the girl to just nod as she instead offers them to the horse in front of them, petting their neck before it takes it off her hand.
"I'm Lily-Rose, by the way, District Six." She says looking behind her. "What's your name?"
"Briar Ackers, District Seven." She says after a few hesitant seconds. "Is this how it works?"
"How what works?" She asks curiously, not knowing what she means.
"You speaking to me, are we supposed to be speaking to each other?" She asks and Lily-Rose just shrugs her shoulders at her as she stops petting the horse.
"They seem to be doing it." She points at the front of the line, six figures all talking to each other, all dressed in a myriad of different outfits. "My Escort said to make alliances as fast as possible."
"Is this your way of asking then?" She says wryly. "By feeding my horse?"
She hears her laugh, "I suppose so."
"Then consider me intrigued."
Riley Farina, District Nine Female, Eighteen
"This outfit sucks, right?"
She says this to her district partner, stifling some sort of giggle, she sees the irony of it all, their district being that of grain, so naturally, they are dressed, head to toe in brown wheat. The more ironic part is that it's the same one she has harvested many times before, she couldn't help but giggle at all of it.
"If you say so." He just replies and she couldn't help but smile at him. "It does feel very itchy."
Riley tends to speak out of turn when she's alone with one person, preferring to speak one to one rather than in a group. Her normally soft-spoken nature is drowned out by a sea of voices. She likes to speak and really learn from the person, finding it difficult when there are more people in the conversation.
Flax, her district partner, just happens to be that one person at this moment. Stoic yet he shows a gentle side when he speaks to those older than them. He values things more than she ever could have thought from their first meeting, which feels like weeks ago.
In fact, she likes that he has come out of his shell a little more. She thinks she'll go mad if she could not find someone to confide in about their situation. She just sighs as she stops pacing around their chariot, Flax watches as she stands in front of him.
"What do you think of the competition so far?" She asks him and the boy just takes another moment to look around the stables.
"I feel like everyone is watching us." He says and she follows his gaze, the tributes from One and Two are looking in their direction, as well as some of the smaller tributes nearer to them.
"Well, we did both volunteer after all." She says back to him as she looks away from those staring eyes.
No one in Nine had ever volunteered for the Hunger Games before, and she thinks that both she and Flax were the first ever for their district. Naturally, that would garner some extra attention, not only from the Capitol but from the tributes as well it seems. It opens up options for both of them, should they separate ways, they are competing against each other after all.
"Have you thought more about Salvia's proposal?" She says to him avoiding the gaze of everyone now, she fiddles with a loose wheat stalk on her outfit as she waits for his response.
"I mean if you're okay with being allies despite our problems?" He says to her.
"Volunteering for the Games means my family is safe, and I take it your family is too?" She says looking at him with furrowed brows. "Harvey did say that they would handle everything on their end if we both volunteered."
Whilst lingering resentments are there, she knows she has to push that aside now that she is in the Games. What's done is done and all she has to do now is try to win so she can go back to her family, and take them away from the life they live, even if it means killing Flax on the way.
"I'll accept your offer in that case." He says extending his hand. "If you promise you'd look after my family too if you win, and I'll do the same."
She smiles at that, taking his hand and shaking it with eagerness. She would have never thought that she would find someone so familiar to her. Hardworking and cares for their family the same way as her. She feels that they would be good friends had they met outside of the Games, and not in the context of blackmail.
They let go just as the boy from Three walks by them. His face is eerie, accompanied by a smile that doesn't quite reach the corners of his eyes. Behind him, trails wires of every colour drawing lines on the sand-covered horse grounds. His chest is exposed for the whole world to see. He turns around to look at the both of them, just bowing his head at them before turning back and walking to his chariot.
Salvia had told them on the train ride over that they shouldn't approach the tributes at the chariots. She thinks that everyone would be tired and angry at everything and that it would not be a constructive conversation. She told them that if they approached them it's a different matter.
"Tributes please enter your chariots, the Parade will begin in a few minutes."
The booming voice alerts everyone that their impending debut to the whole of the Capitol is coming. Flax helps her up first, her bare skin bumping into the golden chariot feeling the coolness as she shivers slightly. Suddenly the feeling of nervousness creeps up on her, her hand gripping the front bar of the chariot tightly.
Flax seems to see this as he places a hand over hers in a calming manner, like a friend comforting their friend. She looks at him, the boy offering a small smile and she returns a nervous smile in turn. "Sorry, I suddenly feel the nerves."
"Just smile and wave." Flax tells her, as he takes his hand away from hers. "Should we try and hold hands together and raise them triumphantly during the parade?"
"Why?" She feels the laugh coming back at how ridiculous it sounds, she stumbles a little as the chariot begins to move.
"I don't know, to make it look like we're united." He says as the large doors open and the noise from the crowds outside echoes inside the stable.
She watches as the tributes mobilise down a strip of land, her eyes scanning everything around her. Confetti falls around the air like snow, crowds of endless people, a sea of colours so vibrant that her eyes feel overwhelmed for a second time that day.
In the far-off distance stands a tall building with a balcony and just above the platform is a screen showing a spotlight of each district. She squints her eyes, trying her best to avoid confetti and everything else going on around her.
The One pair is currently on display, the boy smiling nervously as the girl seems to smile but she can see how fake it is. Their outfits look like gold was melted over them, covering them almost entirely in melted gold, like candle wax.
She can feel Flax hold her hand and she looks at him just as the Two pair enter the screen above. She nods her head and she raises her hand with him. The explosion of cheers fills her ears almost immediately as she looks around at everyone chanting their names.
"This feels surreal." She says out loud beside him and he just smiles as she continues to wave at the crowd.
By the time she looks back at the screen, she can see that the Fives are on display. Their faces are a mixture of discomfort, from the girl and anger, from the boy. They're dressed like solar panels, their faces coming out of a dish shape, and they look like metal sunflowers, and she couldn't help but laugh at that.
They continue their slow trot towards the building, Riley riding the high she's feeling at everyone cheering their names. She looks forward, the screen getting bigger and soon, after the Eights were shown, dressed as pincushions, it's their turn.
"Ready to do it again?" She dares Flax as she grabs his hand and raises it to the air once more.
The crowd goes wild as their chanting gets louder. She smiles as she continues to wave. She's in this predicament because she wanted the best for her family, and she knows that Flax is in the same boat. If this is going to get them help in getting home, then she'll play their game.
Mallory Corbrey, District Ten Female, Eighteen
Someone truly has it out for her.
Someone is praying for her inevitable demise, and when she finds out who that is, she'll have to have words with them, in fact, she might have to use more than words. The adoring crowds don't even detract from her thought process as she looks with a glare at the crowds, trying her best to wave.
She felt respected, sitting at the top of her social ladder, married to a man that was not only wealthy but was so enamoured by her. She had lived the life she had always dreamed about from a young age. Her husband had given her everything, but fate seemed to take a blind eye when her partner was murdered.
Now here she is, at the bottom of the barrel, she has truly hit bedrock with this one. She tries to smile once again but everything is annoying her currently, her nice smile turning into a scowl as the tributes are being showcased.
Mallory already has so many bones to pick with their stylist. She was promised the best and this is not the best. The cruellest joke yet played by her never-ending misery. The cameras at the end of the circuit change from the Nines, in their glorious brown wheat ensemble to a picture of the two of them.
She is dressed in a massive cow costume, a thick and warm one-piece covering her entire body, with a hood up over her hair to act as the head. She is dressed as a common farm animal, the same one that her parents look after back in Ten, the irony is not lost on her. She can feel the cheers and the laughs as the Capitol, no, the whole of Panem, watches the two of them wave.
"You're doing it again." Angus, her district partner, and the occasional bed warmer say through smiling teeth.
"Shut up." She says taking the scowl off her face as she fakes a smile at the crowds. "I'm still mad at you."
Angus had not done anything bad. She's just projecting her anger at him, although she would never admit that. The fact that she had learned his name at the Reapings says so much about her character, and she truly hated that about herself. The number of times they slept together and she doesn't know anything about him is bad on her end.
In contrast, the boy knows everything about her. How she had lost her husband, how she is clinging to the past because she cannot face what the future holds for her. She hates herself for confiding so much to him, but she did not know that he would be standing beside her waving at the Capitolites, thinking that they might be dead in the next couple of weeks; so she stays mad at him for all of that.
In a way, she's punishing herself by punishing him.
If she could jump off the chariots now and end everything she would, but at the same time she should not be giving up too easily. The Mallory from a day or so ago would not have given up so easily to try and grasp at the chance for glory.
"I have an idea." She says to Angus, who looks back at her with curious eyes, it's weird that she can see his eyes so close despite their previous intimacies, blue eyes sparkle with the flashing lights.
"What idea is this?" He asks, a tempting smile on his face as their spotlight changes to the Elevens behind them.
"I'll tell you later."
The Elevens are dressed in a myriad of fruits and at their hips are baskets, evoking a fruit basket of some sort. They're still better dressed than them as she looks away, her scowl coming back to her face as she stops waving to the crowds, the focus shifting to the other tributes.
The Twelves come to view just as the chariots are approaching the giant skyscraper with a balcony. The screen comes closer and bigger, the image of the Twelve girl smiling and waving, relishing everything about the attention she is getting, despite looking like a ghost girl, them wearing white clothes covered in charcoal and soot. The boy, on the other hand, is scowling at everything much like her and not even attempting an effort.
"He scowls just as much as you do," Angus tells her as they stop in front of the building, she rolls her eyes and then goes to punch the boy on the shoulder, as hard as she could, and the boy recoils looking at her with shock on her face.
"What was that for?!" He says rubbing his arm. "Was that the idea you were talking about earlier?"
Before she can speak again, the crowds quieten down and she feels an impressive aura emanating from the building, as if the atmosphere of the whole event drop down a few degrees, her skin feeling chilly despite being in this horrendous outfit.
The President of Panem stands at the end of the balcony, a smile on his face as he waves to the silent crowd. His face projected large and imposing on the large screen just above him. His face is handsome, and his eyes sparkle with joy as he begins to speak.
"Dearest Panem." He takes a short pause, his voice being carried effortlessly across the whole of the circuit. He looks down at all the tributes, eyeing them one by one, sending chills to every bone standing on golden chariots. "Tonight we welcome twenty-four more tributes for this year's Hunger Games. I am sure that many of you are excited by this year's tributes?"
He takes a moment to bask in the applause, the cheering crowd seemingly empowering the President. Mallory can see that Angus is feeling uneasy at everything and she gives him a gentle nudge, he looks at her and plasters on a smile, the same one she is used to seeing every morning or when they see each other in the bar.
"Truly an interesting set of tributes. I eagerly await when I place a crown over one of your heads. Remember to work hard, fight harder, and strive for victory!"
The close is met with an eruption of applause as the chariots begin to move again, the horses doing their best to manoeuvre away from the building. The cheers from the crowd continue as they are wheeled back to the stables. She nudges Angus once again as she raises an eyebrow at him.
"Are you ready for the idea?" She says taking off the ridiculous animal head hood, she takes long fingers to the zip at the top of her outfit, beginning to zip it down.
Angus watches with wide eyes, trying to stop her from doing it but she just swats his hands away. She takes off the outfit leaving her top half exposed to the elements, just a pair of black bras as a piece of clothing, the chill in the air refreshing somewhat as she stands raising her hands to the sky with erupting cheers.
She looks at Angus, daring the boy to do the same, and he smirks, chuckling as he too takes his hood and zips his costume down, his bare muscled torso out for display with her as they hold each other's hand raising it to the sky.
"You are a bad influence." He says chuckling as they near the giant doors of the stable.
"I try my best." She smirks as their chariots begin to slow down, their mentors waiting for them as they stop.
"Daring today are we?" Rudy says as Maybelle rushes to cover Mallory up with her cardigan. "Way to make a statement."
"Or put a target on their back!" Maybelle snaps at Rudy, the latest victor of the Games. "Mallory what you did was foolish."
"Lighten up!" She says to her mentor taking the cardigan anyway as she feels a few of the tributes begin to see. "I'm getting a leg up in the competition."
"There are other ways of doing that." She fusses as she drags her back towards the elevators.
"I think it was brilliant, don't you 'Gus?" Rudy says with a smile on his face, the very same face that won him the Capitol approval.
"Rudy," Maybelle warns him and the boy just puts his arms up in defence. "We'll talk more when we're back at the apartment."
"I don't see what the big deal is." Mallory sighs as she shakes herself loose from her mentor's grip.
She really didn't see the big deal. She wants to make an impression on the Capitol, and instead of channelling her anger into destructive means, she's going to do what she does best. She's going to charm everyone, it got her so far up the ladder in Ten, it's not any different here.
Angus looks at her with a supportive smile, ignoring Rudy as he speaks at him. She nods her head, a small smile appearing on her face too. He nods back and she looks away. The President's speech really got to her, having to work hard and fight harder. She's going to do her damnedest to wear that crown on her head.
A/N - HELLO!
Wow what a wild ride. These chariots have been fun to write. I normally dread writing these and I think it's because I overthink the outfits, but this time I did not do that. I literally gave everyone such bad costumes that it's funny to see them all in there. Also, I like the fact that the Parade part itself only happened in like two POVs, I like that.
And now the tributes.
Cal is still hung up on the past, and he doesn't escape that too easily, luckily Ilia is there to save him, but for how long? Uri has been banned from interacting with everyone it seems, I wonder why? Briar has experienced a massive karmic backlash, but she seemed to have found interest in Lily-Rose, maybe the backlash wasn't a bad one? Riley and Flax are getting on quite well, will the two volunteers from Nine make it far? Mallory is fuming but instead of trying to let it consume her, she does something for herself, will that really paint a target on her back?
And with that the Chariots close. The next chapter will be a Capitol one and then we begin training! Exciting stuff, alliances and rivalries to be forged before the arena, which is somewhat still pending in my head. I need to finalise it for real, but I keep getting ideas.
Anyway,
Cheers! ~Alec
