Training, Day 1, Part 1
As she waited for the elevator, Iggy looked back and forth between her district partner Scythe and her escort Tatiana. Neither seemed happy to be there. She couldn't figure out why. It'd been a wonderful morning— she had risen with the sun, the way she always did, and wandered out onto the porch to bask in the morning light and keep the flowers company. The flowers back in Eleven always had so many friends that she never felt an obligation to wait with them, but metal and concrete and glass surrounded these poor Capitol dearies. She'd paused to listen to them too, though they didn't speak to her the way Mother Tree did. She had probably been there an hour or so when Tatiana called her in for breakfast—and what a breakfast it was! Every new smell tantalized her; she'd done her best to restrain herself but it was all to no avail.
She noticed the escort rubbing at her eyes. "Did you sleep well, ma'am?"
"Oh, you dear!" Tatiana said, suddenly smiling at her. "Please, call me Tati. I'm not quite that old yet."
Iggy giggled, though she couldn't understand where Tatiana got the idea that she was calling her old. "Okay, Tati!"
"That wasn't too hard, was it, dearie?"
"No, ma— I mean, Tati!"
"Aww," Tati cooed. "You're so precious. And thank you for asking; I'm just not used to being up so early!"
Early? Iggy was pretty sure the clock said 9:55 A.M., but she wasn't about to argue with Ms. Tati. She smiled grandly at the woman. The Reaping had been so scary, but the people she'd met had been really nice so far. Well, expect stony-faced Scythe, who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. She didn't know what to make of him. With most other people, she could get to know them the way she got to know Mother Tree—by waiting and listening. But when she waited and listened for Scythe, he never spoke.
They entered an empty elevator car, and Tati patted her on the head. "I hope you have an excellent first day of training! Remember to wear your nicest smiles and look presentable!"
"Show some decency, will 'ya?" Scythe said. His voice was low and nearly monotone, but it always was. Only his eyes smoldered in tightly controlled anger. "This is a deathmatch, not our first day of school."
Tati maintained a strained smile. "I think your face in particular would look a lot nicer with a smile."
It seemed like Scythe only ever spoke to contradict Tati. It made no sense. Why would you do or say anything that would ruin someone else's mood? As far as she knew, he wasn't a mean person, yet this felt like a very mean thing to say. Ms. Tati had been nothing short of nice to her!
The trio stepped out into the Training Room, where most other district pairs already stood in a rough circle around the Head Trainer. The cave of blues and greys that made Iggy feel like withering in a corner. It was so cold! Where was the sunshine? Where was the bounty of Mother Nature? For such a glamorous place, the Capitol really seemed to overlook how wonderful real nature could be.
Once Ms. Tati left, Scythe whispered in her ear. "Be careful, alright?"
"Careful?"
"Anyone you bond with will have to die." He sighed. "So don't bond too fast."
Was that why he didn't like her—because she had bonded with Ms. Tati? She hadn't thought twice about it, but he did have a point, though the idea of the others dying still felt weird bouncing around in her head. Death was a peaceful thing to her, like when MawMaw passed into full unity with Mother Nature. All the Tree Branch families had gathered around her bed and held hands, remembering happy memories with MawMaw and wishing her soul tranquility until the old lady breathed her last. So different from the sudden blood she'd accidentally seen once or twice on television.
She simply nodded, suddenly at an uncomfortable loss for words. She marinated in the atmosphere all throughout the Head Trainer's introduction to training, and it wasn't until they were dismissed and everyone scattered that she realized she had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Somehow, she'd always assumed that someone would tell her what to do—they'd always had instructions up to this point—but she now found herself standing awkwardly alone in the center of the room.
Where would she go? The big and strong kids from One, Two, Seven, and Ten had already gathered near the weapons, while several other tributes stepped up for lessons in pointy objects, big and small. She didn't know any of them yet, but she definitely did not want to go near the pointy objects yet. A few of the others dispersed among the other survival stations and looked friendly enough, but what would Scythe say if he saw her mingling with everyone else? Even now, he sat at the traps station in the corner, observing the others almost as much as he was trying to figure out a structure.
Almost instinctively, she floated over to the traps station. He nodded briefly when he saw her coming, but he gave her no other acknowledgment, turning his attention back to the others in the room.
"So…" Iggy said, hoping to fill the silence. "What are you thinking about?"
"Who to avoid."
That wasn't quite the kind of response she was hoping for. She looked down at the table and flipped open an instruction manual, where colored diagrams illustrated how to construct traps for everything from rabbits to people. She didn't linger long on the ones designed for the latter, but rabbits could be manageable. So she twisted a rope according to the instructions. Before she knew it, she found herself in a confusing mess.
"Um… Scythe?" She touched his wrist to grab his attention. "Could you help me with—"
"Don't touch me!" He pulled his arm away from her so fast that she herself jumped.
She stared at him wide-eyed. She hadn't meant to offend him; she'd done it without thinking. "I'm sorry."
"It's… fine. I didn't mean to snap. But don't touch me. Please."
She nodded and rose slowly. If her being there would only trigger him, then she'd leave. But she had nowhere to go, so she wandered over to the adjacent edible plants station and stared at a new book. She hoped Scythe didn't hate her. She hadn't ever had anyone hate her, and she decided she didn't like the feeling. It consumed her mind with an anxious cloud. If only Mother Tree were here; She would have the answers for her…
"Hey, are you okay?"
She looked up to find a pale, soft-featured boy, a book in his hand but his concern on her. "I'm… very sad."
He frowned. "Why?"
"My district partner doesn't like having me around." She glanced at Scythe. He didn't look back. "I hope he doesn't hate me."
"Aww… I'm sorry. My district partner doesn't want me around either."
She gave him a strange look. "But you're nice!"
"It's the Hunger Games, I guess." He glanced over at the knives station, where a similarly pale girl with her hair in a bun stabbed at a dummy. "I don't blame her."
She nodded. Though Scythe made her sad, she didn't blame him either. If he wanted to be alone, she would accept it, no matter how little sense it made. But that didn't mean that she had to be alone, right?
"My name is Yggdrasil, and I'm from District Eleven," she said, "But everyone calls me Iggy!"
He smiled at her. "I'm Ellis, District Eight. Pleasure to meet you."
It struck her that she really didn't want to go through everything alone. The past few minutes of sitting by herself had seemed scary enough, knowing that there wasn't anyone to look to. Maybe he wouldn't want to ally with her, but it couldn't hurt to ask, could it? She opened her mouth to speak.
Yet Scythe's warning echoed in her head. Anyone she bonded with… would have to die. Even with that confusing image of death, she knew she didn't want Ellis to die. And what would Scythe think of the alliance, especially after he'd tried to warn her about bonding with people?
She closed her mouth and smiled at him instead.
"…The Capitol has graciously provided complete training facilities, in hopes that all of you will take the opportunity to strengthen your performance…"
As Head Trainer whatever-her-name droned on, Ilithyia shifted from foot to foot. In her mind, she'd always expected it to be fun, with the thrill of meeting her new allies while playing around with the Capitol's fancier weaponry. But this was shaping up to be less fun than she'd planned for.
She craned her head in every direction to gawk at the stations around the room. What a playground! She hadn't been on one since elementary school for obvious reasons, yet she couldn't help but always feel jealous when she watched her dogs play at the local dog park. Here, she could do everything she wanted to.
Of course, the weapon rack called to her, with its assortment of swords, lances, and her preferred axes, her gaze quickly moved on to the rope and obstacle courses, and then to the first-aid station. And was that a station on edible insects? She'd only ever heard stories of those "poor kids from District Nine" that ate bugs to survive, but now that she was here, she made a mental note to stop by and try some for herself.
She nudged Eros. "How do you think a cockroach tastes?"
"Ugh," he whispered back. "Why?"
"I dunno. You never know unless you try."
Head Trainer looked over, so Ilithyia shut up. She turned her attention to the other tributes in the ring. Out of the twenty-two, six would be on her side, at least based on her first impressions before the chariot rides. There were the Sevens, Liat and Adair, a few spots down. Both of them had welcomed the Twos with eager anticipation yesterday and even ran down together to meet the Tens. Speaking of the Tens, Nevaeh met her gaze and grinned mischievously, but Sostonio seemed to be paying attention to the Head Trainer. It couldn't possibly hurt to pay attention, she supposed, so she crossed her arms to focus on this once-in-a-lifetime, albeit boring, experience.
"…the next few days could mean the difference between life and death. Spend your time wisely. If you should so desire…"
Too many words. It would be different if this were, say, the Designation Ceremony back in Two, with its weightiness and honor—which, for the record, she had focused through—but this wasn't anything close in importance. She wandered off again.
This time, she found the Ones on the opposite side of the ring. Adora smiled and waved, but Ven almost looked a little overwhelmed. Though she didn't quite know yet what he was like, she was already sure she'd love him. He almost looked like her close friend Balios, from his heavy build to his soft eyes. Back in the Academy in Two, Balios' weight and mild demeanor had often invited the derision of bullies; she couldn't imagine how much worse it'd be in appearance-obsessed District One or even here in the Capitol.
But she had beaten up the original male Designated Volunteer for picking on Balios. If she came across anyone picking on Ven… this was the Hunger Games, and she wouldn't have to go so easy on them.
"…and with that, I release you all to training. May the odds be ever in your favor."
"Ili!" Nevaeh called, opening her arms for a hug as she and Sostonio strolled over. "Buenos días to you!" The words were unfamiliar to Ilithyia's ear, but they rang with colorful hints of an exotic world she'd never experienced before. Same went for everything about Nevaeh's appearance, from the jade pendant hanging from her neck to her outfit banded with reds and oranges and greens.
Ilithyia ran up to meet them, and the girls hugged. "Oh my goodness; I am so excited for this. I've always wanted to go to District Ten. And your outfit looks fantastic!"
"Hermana, you are stunning! Such a pena we aren't in Ten right now, but I brought a little bit of Ten to share!" She patted her pocket and winked. "I'll show y'all at lunch."
Adair's charming voice with its characteristic drawl marked the arrival of the Sevens, the Ones arriving right after. "Howdy! Hope everyone slept well?"
Adora nodded gracefully. "Finer than ever!"
"The beds here are so soft?" Ilithyia said, waving hello to Liat, who observed and listened with a sweet grin. "Oh—I love the accent, by the way—but I was too excited to sleep and I still slept well."
Sostonio reached over his shoulders and rubbed his back uncomfortably. Nevaeh gave him a playful nudge in his exposed ribs. "This country boy came to breakfast like 'Ay, that mattress too soft for me'!"
"But it was!" Sostonio said. "My back is still sore."
"It's a bit soft for me too," Liat chimed in. Her beautiful voice sounded natural and free, full of fresh mountain air. Between Liat's voice and Adair's accent, Ilithyia decided that if she ever got a chance, she'd have to go to District Seven as well, though she'd probably go to Ten first simply because of how much time she'd already spent fantasizing about a vacation there.
Sostonio nudged Nevaeh back. "See? I ain't the only one."
As the others continued to talk, Ilithyia's focus drifted to the only member of the group that hadn't spoken yet. Ven stood near the periphery, just a step away from everyone else yet seemingly in a separate world, detached from the rest of them. He didn't seem sad, exactly, yet one look at his face told her that he wasn't quite happy either. Just like Balios.
Ilithyia hadn't been okay with it when Balios tried to sit out of everything, and she wasn't okay with it here.
"Hey," she said, coming up beside him. "How's it going?"
Though he didn't jump, he momentarily gave her that deer-in-the-headlights look, one that Ilithyia had seen far too often on her friend's face back home. "Fine, I guess. I'm just not a people person."
She shrugged. "That's fine. Want to do some weapons instead?"
"What about…" Ven glanced back at the group, which was now discussing breakfast and the proper order of cereal and milk.
"Whatever, man. I'll make you talk to people at some point, but it doesn't have to be right now."
Ven sighed but gave her a weak smile. "So. Preferred weapon?"
An excellent start—and the best was yet to come!
While the trained kids jabbered away in their huddle, Laforza gripped a knife and stared at the dummy before her. She had never stabbed anyone before (though she'd imagined it plenty of times), but that's what training was for, right?
She noticed movement and glanced sideways. The girl from Two and the boy from One had split off from the rest of their group and pulled a few weapons off the rack, the One boy with a mad longsword and the Two girl with an axe in each hand. Compared to them, her odds were as good as dead. Even if she were armed and they weren't, they'd likely still beat her on virtue of being muscular and well-fed. Anyone who said that the Hunger Games were punishment for the Districts was higher than a morphling addict; the real message couldn't be clearer: If you do what the Capitol says, you'll be handsomely rewarded. All one had to do for evidence was look to One, Two, Seven, and Ten.
Without a doubt, she had more to learn than almost anyone else here. District Six didn't exactly do a good job at training its kids in survival skills; their sparse victor count said enough on its own. Her only advantage would be pure spite.
The trainer adjusted Laforza's grip. "There we go," he said. "Just go for it. Don't worry about technique; we're just trying to get you used to the feeling of cutting through flesh."
She ran her hand over the featureless face; how realistic could it be? With a soft grunt, she stabbed the knife into the dummy's chest, causing an immediate splash of warm water over her hand. She flinched but then chuckled at herself. This wasn't actually all that bad, almost like chopping up the occasional bony cut of meat back at home, on the off chance they could afford to eat a little better.
"Good," the trainer said. He dragged another training dummy over "Take your time with these; come find me when you're ready for combat training."
Biting her lip, she stabbed a second time, and she didn't flinch, not this time. Real blood wouldn't be as inoffensive as this water, but once it became a matter of life and death, she was sure she'd be able to stab without concern.
She caught Thomas staring at her from the edible plants station. With her eyes on him, she stabbed the dummy again, and then again, smirking when his face paled. That boy was hopeless. His clothes at the Reaping had marked him as rich enough—at least rich enough to avoid starvation—but he still had the audacity to waste his entire train ride staring dramatically into the distance, occasionally mumbling something self-pitying in his drunken haze. The world had already dealt him a decent hand by District Six standards; if he wanted to drink himself to death, she'd be glad to have his useless self gone.
At this point, she was getting bored with Thomas and the first dummy was completely shredded—and not in a hot way—so she moved on to the next one, patting herself on the back for making progress. But she felt eyes on her, and she turned around to find the girl from Eight, the one that had broken down in pitiful tears at her Reaping.
"What do you want?"
"I'm just watching," Eight girl said. "Laforza, is it?" Though she crossed her arms in a clear attempt to look resolute, the pink bow in her hair, which she nervously twirled, ruined any chance of the farce working.
Laforza narrowed her eyes. "That's me. Looking for allies?"
"I need to win."
"What a coincidence. I do too." She attempted to twirl the knife in her hand, pleasantly surprised when it actually worked. "Are you any good in a fight?"
Eight girl shook her head. "But I'm trying to learn. And it looks like you are too."
"Touché."
"So will you consider it?"
Laforza cocked her head and examined this strange girl. It was immediately obvious that she'd been raised by a wealthy family. Thomas' cheeks weren't thin, but this girl seemed to have some extra meat there. Add in the pink bow and—was that a bit of makeup?—and Laforza had a hard time holding in a laugh.
She extended the knife to the girl and nodded towards the intact dummy. It didn't matter that the girl needed to win if she wouldn't be willing to do a few stabby-stabbys.
The girl gingerly plucked the knife out of Laforza's hand and stepped up to the dummy, her shoulders rising and falling as she took a deep breath. Her knife hand trembled. But then she let out a small shout and plunged the knife into the dummy over and over, splashing warm water everywhere. After about a dozen good stabs, the girl looked back. Her breathing was heavy, and her entire body shook visibly.
Laforza raised an eyebrow and nodded approvingly. She didn't think the little rich girl had had it in her, but maybe that big talk of needing to win had some basis. Not much—if the girl already felt uneasy with a dummy, she'd struggle so much with a real person—but some. And that was infinitely more than Laforza had expected.
"Is that…"
"No promises," Laforza said. "But we could work something out."
The girl smiled weakly. "I'm Virginia, by the way."
"Okay."
She hadn't asked for a name, but it was useful information, she supposed, though remaining nameless seemed like a better strategy overall. And that smile—what did the girl think they were? Friends? Acquaintances weren't even an option when only one of them could live.
It had barely been a minute, but Laforza was already questioning if agreeing to Virginia was a mistake. Apart from that unexpected show with a knife, Virginia was still a naive rich girl that would likely fall apart after having to kill anyone. The girl would be weak in a fight. Weak to starvation. Weak emotionally when she'd likely been coddled all her life.
Yet the girl was trying, far more than her district partner was, and Laforza could tolerate that. It couldn't hurt to keep her around. And though she didn't want to admit it, the girl's smile was nice, a throwback to days long past, before Laforza had seen the full cruelty of the world for herself.
That Laforza was long gone. And even if that version of herself could come back, she wouldn't want it, not when she was in the Hunger Games.
Zirconia circled the weapon racks, Zeph by her side. When the Head Trainer had released all the tributes, both of them had given each other a single look and headed towards the weapons together without so much a word—she knew ever-so-practical Zeph would want to hone the combat skills they so desperately needed, and she herself didn't mind the idea of waving a weapon around. But though they arrived at the racks earlier than any other tribute, she still hadn't settled on one. None of them quite called out to her with their boring greys and blacks.
"Why don't we just start with knives?" Zeph picked up a carbon steel dagger. "We're bound to find them in the Arena."
She continued forward, brushing her hand against the horizontal beam. "I don't know…"
"You're looking for birds again." He said with a sigh. It wasn't a question, just a statement of disappointed realization. Back in Twelve, Zirconia always made time to stop for the birds no matter what they were doing, especially if the birds had colorful feathers. Something about their vibrance made it impossible for her to pass them up.
"So what if I am?"
"What are you going to do with a bird?"
"Make happy faces, of course," she said. "What else?"
They rounded a corner and arrived at the rack for axes. Again. Zeph did have a point; they had to settle for something, and she was already beginning to see annoyed wrinkles on his forehead. Two of the Careers had already begun sparring with trainers. Before long, the rest of the pack would be upon them too. So she grabbed the handle of an axe and slid it out, smiling when the light sparkled on its sleek surface.
As he watched, she ran her finger along the edge—it was blunt, like all the other weapons in the room—and tested it with a few good swings, ending with a twirl. "What do you think?"
"I'm making a happy face," he said, though there was barely a curl at the corner of his lip. "Are you?"
She shrugged. "Maybe."
The group of Careers that had been chatting nearby broke up into smaller groups of two or three, most of them taking weapons off the racks and finding a trainer to spar with. Around the room, most of the other tributes retreated to the survival stations, with the exception of the Six and Eight girls, but Zirconia had absolutely no intention of letting them and their fancy skills scare her off. What could they do to her here, anyway?
They didn't scare her. But the axe in her hand suddenly looked a lot less sparkly when she could see the girl from Two wield two of them at the same time, maneuvering with them as extensions of her own arms.
She returned the axe to the rack, and the two of them started another loop around the weapons.
The chatter in the air was now replaced by the clanging of metal against metal—or the terrifying fwoop of the boy from Seven and his deadly accurate throwing knives. Now all the Careers were at their game, demonstrating terrible skill that she'd only ever seen on television. How many of those kids had spent years of their lives learning to kill? Those trained kids couldn't intimidate her; she wouldn't let them. She resisted the urge to march up to the Seven boy and give him a piece of her mind. If he yelled at her, she'd out-yell him.
But in the Arena… that would be a whole different problem. There, directly confronting a Career wouldn't be so inconsequential. She could hope to outwit and escape one or two Careers, but all eight of 'em? Even with Zeph at her side, it'd be eight on two. She'd have better luck trying to talk ol' man Clancy into giving her a discount.
She felt her fingertips tremble, so she picked up a boomerang and squeezed the handle until every tremor stilled. For a moment, she paused to admire the way the light shimmered across its colorful bands. "What about this?"
He snorted. "A bird's pretty colors don't make it any less defenseless."
"Maybe the colors make Mr. Bird feel less defenseless," she said, biting her lip, though she returned the flying disc of death to the rack. "Did you think of that?"
"Or the bird could sit down and figure out a solution that actually works, instead of just… postponing fear."
"How do you know Mr. Bird is afraid?"
He shrugged. "Shouldn't he be?"
It made sense, but it didn't make her feel any better. How could anyone sit down in a time like this? She looked back at the other tributes at the weapons. Though most were Careers, the fiery Nine girl had recently arrived, taking it out on a training dummy with a bludgeon.
"We could get an ally."
Zeph gave her the side eye. "I'd rather pluck my feathers out."
"It's a solution that works," she said, keeping her eyes on the Nine girl. "I'm going to talk to her."
"Pop off, I guess," he muttered beneath his breath.
As Zirconia approached the girl, she heard the girl grunt with every blow and mutter curses under her breath. That's right, the girl had made a huge scene at the reaping, as opposed to all the other kids that had walked meekly to the stage. It made absolutely no sense, but that in itself made the girl an attractive candidate, at least in Zirconia's mind.
"Hey!" Zirconia waved when the girl paused to catch her breath. "Nice goin' with that dummy."
The girl passed the club from hand to hand. "You think so? I prefer a good ol' brick, but this'll do."
"A brick? That's hilarious."
"I'm serious!" The girl smiled with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Every Peacekeeper needs a good brick-bashing."
Zirconia never thought she'd hear those words spoken in Panem, let alone the Capitol, but they definitely sounded nice. Talking to this girl was becoming a better idea by the second. "Ugh, Peacekeepers."
"Right? Get 'em out!" The girl laughed, bold and unafraid. "I'm Clarke, from District Nine."
"I'm Zirconia, District Twelve. And that's my friend Zeph over there, pouting with the weapons." She waved him over.
Though he obliged, he flashed her a momentary unamused glance as he arrived before turning back to Clarke with a presentable grin. "Hey! I'm… well, what she said."
Zirconia rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, Mr. what she said. This is Clarke."
"Pleasure to meet ya," he said with a polite nod, the same one she knew him to use to get them out of sticky situations back home. "Nine, right?"
Clarke grinned. "District Nine and proud, though we have a terrible Peacekeeper infestation at the moment."
"I love the word choice," Zirconia said. Peacekeepers weren't ubiquitous enough in Twelve to call it an infestation, but the comparison to insects was too apt to not love.
"Oh, they're everywhere and it's terrible. Can't even breathe without getting them stuck up your nose."
Zirconia snorted. "So are you thinking about allies?"
"I'm not against the idea…"
Though she opened her mouth, Zeph spoke faster. "Same for us, but we're gonna wait a bit before making any big decisions." She turned to him suddenly, ready to amend that statement, but the look in his eye told her that this wasn't one to argue with him about.
"That's probably smart," Clarke said. "Wanna meet up tomorrow to talk about it?"
"Sounds great."
As Clarke walked off, Zirconia wanted to call after the girl. But Zeph rarely insisted like this, and she supposed she owed him one after dragging him around the weapon racks, so she smoldered and glared at him instead. It had been his diplomatic voice, the one used for pulling things over people's heads. Did he even intend to ally with Clarke at all? She doubted it.
"What was that for?" she said once Clarke was out of earshot. "You're afraid, aren't you—and you were talking to me about being afraid."
"Fine, I guess getting stabbed in the back is an unreasonable fear."
"Why are you so reasonable?"
"Why do chickens run around with their heads cut off?" he answered coolly. "We may never know."
She groaned. He was just being rational and looking out for them. She knew he was. But that didn't mean she had to be happy with it. So she stalked up to the nearest weapon rack, grabbed a bow, and shot an arrow in the vague direction of the targets, all while Zeph watched, vaguely amused. Of course, since she hadn't shot before, the arrow flew past the target and lodged itself into the wall.
But that was fine. It took her mind off of things, and in that moment, that was enough.
A/N Gah. I wish I was a much faster writer; my slow speed pains me and it took so much work to get these 5k words done in a week. But I'll try to keep it up. I am not okay with waiting until fall to finish this story.
I'd love to know y'all's thoughts! (And constructive criticism too! I'm always trying to improve.)
