09 - GOLD
On the first day of training, she's simply terrified. She can barely hear the words the Head Trainer says as he booms about responsibility and statistics and the multitude of ways they could die. The other tributes are all around her now, bigger and stronger and faster than her, towering like skyscrapers with their eager grins and cracking knuckles. She knows plenty of them are frightened like her, but it doesn't help because the gorgeous boy from Four is next to her, and he gives her a little wink once the Head Trainer is done speaking. Her blood turns cold from that little wink, and she can hear him laughing at the way she can't move while he walks away. She makes her legs shake off their terror, makes them carry her somewhere, anywhere so she doesn't embarrass herself further.
She was angry the night before, riding in that chariot while the Capitol thundered its decadence down onto her, so angry she was almost ready to spill blood on that very promenade. However, her first night sleeping in a real bed amazed her into stillnes, and now the Careers standing oh-so-close make the anger quickly seep away like rainwater swirling down a drainage pipe. The Careers seem to shine as they spar and chuckle and flirt with one another, and other kids glow as well. They intimdate her, the Three girl whose nimble fingers can tie knots at a blinding speed and the hulking Twelve man who's taller than everyone else. She sees the Gamemakers watching them from the Loft, sipping from their golden cups in their gilded red robes with grins on their faces. They watch hungrily as the Careers mash dummies to pulp and the Three girl fiddles with a mess of wires and the Twelve boy slams a pickaxe into the ground over and over. They aren't watching her, why would they? Why would they even bother to glance at a girl who's good as dead?
She spends most of the first day at stations that bore her to no end, but she knows they're important. How to find water, how to build shelter, which plants to eat and which to not even touch. By the end of it, though, she feels smaller than ever, knowing the only way she'll make it home is if she hides in a bush and eats leaves until the others die. That's how the others like her do it, at least, and she knows it's the same plan all the other terrified kids around her have. Hide, hide, hide, and hope they don't find you. Hide, hide, hide, and hope everyone else kills each other before they kill you.
That night, as she lays in bed, thinking about how she is going to run and hide and die, her chest becomes hard, and she pauses in her train of thought. She remembers the burning anger that filled her every fiber when her stylist dismissed her as hopeless, the fury she felt every year back in Six when the Careers would coast to easy Victories. Is she going to let herself be another little speed bump in their way? Is she going to let herself give up and become what they've all assumed she is already? She barely sleeps that night, making herself angrier and angrier until she resolves to survive, no matter the cost, and for real this time, no backing out. She isn't going to hide and cry and not even fight back when they find her. She's going to run, and she's going to hide, but she's going to do it so she can kill. She's going to do it because she's going to survive. She's going to do it because she's going home, even if there's nothing left for her there. It doesn't matter. Maybe it's pure spite, or maybe it's just because she can, or maybe it's because she wants to stand up for herself for the first time in her life. No matter the reason, she lays in those soft sheets and looks up at the golden ceiling above her bed and decides to simply survive.
The next day, she walks into the training room with a little extra energy in her step, and she doesn't care that no one notices. It's better that way, anyway. She doesn't even look at the Careers, not letting their rippling muscles and golden smiles intimidate her. None of them can scare her, not when she's decided to really fight for herself for the first time she can remember.
She spends the first few hours at the same boring stations, the ones that tell her if she's lucky, oh so lucky, she can find water and bugs to eat and branches to put over her head. Maybe, just maybe she can win if she just does that and hopes it's enough. She knows that'll never be enough, not with the group of shining teenagers that seem like deities as they frolic through the training room like it's a playground. So, after long hours of learning to coax a fire from a pile of crackling leaves and learning how to clean water through filters of silt and charcoal, she stands and decides to learn how to fight.
Not up close, though. She knows she might have all the will in the world, but no amount of fury can build enough muscle or enough height for her to have any chance in hand-to-hand combat. No, she needs to learn something that can protect her from afar, something where she won't even have to see their faces, but she'll be able to kill them still. The spears are too heavy, the bow too rare, the throwing knives too obvious. She needs something more, something she can build from the arena and something that she can use to show them all that they were wrong to write her off as nothing but a deadbeat from Six.
She finds it after circling the Training Center a couple of times. Nestled in the corner of the room with the unusual or exotic weapons is a curvaceous Capitolite woman with a towering golden wig atop her head. Indigo slowly approaches her, watching as the woman whittles away at a scrap of wood to form a perfect cylinder. Dozens of the cylinders lay next to her alongside an array of darts, and Indigo watches in amazement as the trainer picks up one of them. She slides a dart into the tube, and then she takes a deep breath in before lifting it to her lips. With a sharp breath out, the dart flies from the end of the tube and slams into the target dozens of feet away.
Indigo realizes in amazement that the weapon is a blowpipe; she has murky memories of some tributes using them in the Games when she was a child, although she can't remember who. Certainly not any Victors, but that's quite alright. Something draws her straight to the station, and she couldn't turn away if she tried. Every instinct compels her to clear her throat so that the trainer with the hulking golden wig on her head will turn and see her.
Indigo does just that, clearing her throat noisily, and the woman turns swiftly, her face quickly breaking out into a pleased smile.
"Hello dearie!" the woman exclaims, extending her hand to Indigo. She is surprised by the energy of her greeting, but she hesitantly reaches out and shakes the woman's hand.
"Hello," Indigo says softly, trying to muster up the courage to seem as confident as possible. "Could you help me learn these, please?"
"Of course, of course!" the trainer responds, patting Indigo's hand before letting go. "My name is Auruma, dearie, and I'm so thrilled to be able to assist you today. No one really comes to my station these days, so it's so exciting that you would chance a stop here!"
Indigo is shocked by Auruma's excitement and her rambling speech, as most of the trainers only talk to the tributes like her in bored voices or a series of irritated grunts. She can only conjure a few words in return, although the small smile that fights its way onto her face is wholly genuine.
"Thank you, Miss Auruma," Indigo replies, feeling the joy heating her cheeks.
"No need to thank me, dearie, it's my job after all," Auruma tuts, turning to the table and waving for Indigo to follow her. "No need to call me Miss either, please, call me Auruma, or Aurrie if you'd like. Let's get started quickly, so we can get past the pointers and get you on your way to mastery of the blowpipe!"
Indigo wordlessly follows Auruma over to the table, watching with amazement as the trainer kindly explains the steps for holding, filling, and firing the blowpipe. She helps Indigo find her stance, teaches her how to breathe so the dart doesn't come flying into her throat, and shows her how to aim at a target. Indigo is surprised when it only takes her a handful of tries to hit the outer rings, and Auruma claps excitedly at her success as Indigo drops the blowpipe from her mouth in wonder.
"Splendid, splendid, absolutely splendid dearie!" Auruma coos, reaching out and patting Indigo's hand again. She'd usually be bothered by so much unwarranted contact, but instead Indigo feels soothed and valued as the trainer taps her hand encouragingly.
"Thank you, Aurrie," Indigo replies, grinning wider than she has in a long time. The trainer tuts again, shaking her head, the massive golden wig on head wobbling at the movement.
"No thank you's. You can thank me when you get out of that arena," Auruma tells the Six girl with a friendly smile on her face. "Let's keep practicing to make sure you're as ready as you can be for these Games, shall we, dearie?"
Indigo just nods again, shocked at Auruma's words as she lets the trainer help correct her posture before she fires more darts. Auruma believes that...she really believes Indigo can go home. She can't process the words as she slides a dart into the blowpipe and lifts it to her lips. Someone really believes she could go home. The thought makes her chest swell as she sucks in a deep gulp of air, and with one sharp breath she fires hard. Indigo watches with a mixture of pride, relief, and terror as dart sinks into the inner rings of target. Auruma claps excitedly as Indigo stares in shock at what she's done.
"Oh, Indie, you're doing so well!" Auruma purrs, reaching out and patting Indigo's hand once more. "Is it okay if I call you Indie?"
"Sure," Indigo murmurs breathlessly, too shocked by her skill with the blowpipe to do much else. "Sure, you can call me Indie."
Over the next several hours until the day is almost done, Indigo's abilities with the blowpipe bloom as the trainer in the towering golden wig instructs her well under her warm yet firm tutelage. By the end of the day, Indigo knows how to fire dart after dart in quick succession into a target at far distances from her, and she has also begun to learn how to whittle her own makeshift pipe and darts from wood and other natural substances that can be found in a majority of the arenas. A small smile doesn't leave her face the whole time, her entire being overwhelmed with the thrill of excelling at something for once, at the thrill of someone liking her and paying such careful attention to her for the first time in her life.
Once there is only a handful of minutes left before the end of the second day of training, Auruma has Indigo set down the knife she's been using to whittle shoddy handmade darts from a block of wood. She pats her hand softly, the flourescent lights making her golden wig gleam and her unnaturally white teeth twinkle. However, Indigo isn't repulsed by her artificial beauty. Instead, it feels warm and welcoming, a facade created to comfort and envelop, not shock and repel.
"You're getting so good, Indie, so, so good," Auruma whispers excitedly, patting her hand even harder. "However, there's one thing I cannot teach you, and it is a skill that is vital for this weapon, and that is poisons. A dart does not hurt much unless it is dipped in something lethal, or if your aim is perfect from years of training, which you sadly do not have. So you must learn a poison."
"Poisons?" Indigo murmurs. "How am I going to learn poisons?"
"There's not a station this year, but..." Auruma trails off, her eyes glancing around furtively before her voice drops even lower. "Go to the edible animals station tomorrow, with Euphoneme. Ask her about...ask her about poison dart frogs."
"Poison dart frogs?" Indigo inquires again, confused. "How is that going to help me?"
"Trust me, Indie," Auruma pleads, squeezing her hand now instead of patting it. "I've taken quite a liking to you, dearie...this is not something I should be doing, not at all. But please, go ask Euphoneme about poison dart frogs tomorrow. Ask everything about them. They will help you this year Indie. I promise wholeheartedly."
Suddenly the pieces click together in Indigo's brain. She needs poisons for her darts, and Auruma is telling her about an animal which she might be able to draw toxins from. Auruma is highlighting a specific animal at the edible animals station, which must mean she knows it's going to be in this year's arena. Auruma must have a sense of what this year is going to be, and whatever it is, it's going to have poison dart frogs. And Auruma wants her to learn about these frogs, because they could help her go home. Because Auruma believes in her like almost no one else does.
"Don't tell anyone, my dearie. I will be punished if you reveal what I've said. But please do what I have asked. I beg of you," Auruma mutters anxiously.
"I won't tell anyone," Indigo nods shortly, looking up into Auruma's eyes, trying to communicate all the words she cannot say with her own gaze. "Thank you, Aurrie."
"No thank you's dearie," Auruma replies, her eyes crinkling in joy as she pats Indigo's hand ever-so softly. "No thank you's until you come home to me."
The lights are bright and glaring in Indigo's eyes as she walks out onto the stage as the Capitol screams her name. The golden yellow dress hugs her bony body tightly, and she knows it's meant to mimic the poisonous sheen of the frogs and their venom that she used to win her Games. The color would usually makes her nauseous, quite like everything does, but the feeling is dulled now. She feels the morphling twining its way through her veins, the sludgy drug they've been giving her every time she wakes up screaming bloody murder. It calms her, rubbing every ache in her body, be it physical or psychological, with a lovely numbness. She's already growing attached to the cloudy drug, she knows it, but she also has no choice but to take it. And boy, does it feel good coursing through her veins.
They've dosed her light enough that she'll be able to speak and think at her final interview with Caesar Flickerman, but the numbness emanating through her body makes it hard to walk in the strappy golden heels that have been put on her feet. A brief flash of anger at her stylist strikes through her brain like forking lightning, but it is quickly rubbed away by the morphling's serenity. There is no anger or fear here today. Just comfort, soft and smooth and painless. She relishes it as she sashays across the stage in her shimmering golden dress to sit down on the gilded Victor's throne across from Caesar.
Mercedes stands from her spot sitting nearby to help Indigo climb up the steps to sit on the Victor's throne that looms above everyone else on the stage. The freezing gold plated arms of the chair make the hairs on her arms raise, but Indigo does not let her body shiver, grinding her teeth together as she conjures a smile for Caesar. She would much rather lay back and fall asleep with her head lolling to the side, but she forces herself to sit up as straight as she can manage. She forces her eyes open with a gleaming smile on her face, letting the Capitol cheer her name as the lights dance across her glitzy golden dress. She forces herself to keep from screaming, because some primal part of her wants to destroy everything around her even as the drugs in her system attempt to calm the urge.
Caesar spends his time interviewing her support team, building up the suspense as the entire captivated nation watches Indigo recline on the golden throne like she owns it. She does own it, for now, and Indigo lets herself have the luxury of reminding them that she's earned her way here, that they were all born into this city while she had to murder five children to come back. More anger tries to break its way to the surface, but the morphling keeps the fury at bay. Indigo's eyes drift down to the team of people who helped her survive the arena, watching them carefully despite the fact she barely likes any of them.
Mercedes is boisterous and exceedlingly proud of Indigo; she knows her Mentor has always been loud and brash, but the woman seems to be playing it up even more. Indigo knows it's her angle, to be rowdy and dangerous, and the Capitolites chuckle and applaud for Mercedes as she cracks jokes about Indigo's silent ways and the difficulties of Mentoring. By the end though, Mercedes lets a bit of softness shine through, mentioning how thankful she is for one of her tributes to finally come home, and the Capitolites coo and weep as Mercedes blows a genuine kiss Indigo's way. The newest Victor just spreads her fake smile a little wider, her arms and lips too heavy from the morphling in her veins to do much else.
Once Mercedes is done talking, Indigo loses focus on the others speaking. Gorgana is dressed in the same snakeskin ensemble she wore when she plucked Indigo's name from the Reaping ball back in the square of District Six, and Indigo feels queasy at those memories. Her prep-teamers all talk excitedly about how beautiful Indigo was and how they knew she was coming home right away. Indigo knows those are lies; her prep-teamers treated her like rotted trash when she arrived at the Capitol, and she can't even remember any of their names. Her stylist is the worst, however. Indigo has to squeeze her eyes shut as Attila spends more than his allotted time rambling about his fashion career, barely mentioning Indigo once. Even Caesar can be seen cringing a bit once the voluptuous man dressed in blood-red finally shuts his mouth.
Then, it is time for Indigo to speak to her country, and she barely remembers a word she says once it's done. They're short phrases, nods of the head, supplicative words like "grateful" and "patriotic" and "thank you, thank you, thank you." Over and over again. She's thankful she has a reputation for being a girl of few words, as the audience seems titillated by her mysterious silence, and she doesn't have to go on and on about herself. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't, the morphling making her words heavy and slurred no matter how hard she tries. Still, Caesar seems pleased enough with their interview once it's finished, and Mercedes shoots Indigo a relieved smile once it's over. Indigo breathes deeply as Caesar turns to the massive screen between himself and where Indigo is sprawled across the Victor's throne. It's time to watch the Games.
It's much easier than she expected, really. For the beginning, they only show the District Twelve boy going down in the Bloodbath, as well as Indigo snatching up her beloved case of needles and syringes before dashing off into the jungle. She watches the deaths she didn't see herself with the casual interest of someone observing from afar, and even as she watches herself shoot poisoned darts into the flesh of other children, she doesn't wince. She keeps the big smile on her face so long her cheeks start to ache, but her body doesn't let the corners of her mouth relax. She knows she has to keep smiling while she watches this girl that looks like her kill other kids on the screen. She knows it's her, but something in her brain does not click due to the morphling-induced haze. The girl looks wild and rabid, while she is coated in a golden haze while an entire country chants her name. She can't connect the girl on the screen to the fear, terror, guilt, and rage that makes her scream until her voice is hoarse every night. It's just someone else on the TV, it must be. So she watches until the girl crawls out of the golden Cornucopia after the final kill, weeping pitifully while the trumpets chorus her name throughout the jungle. Even as the hovercraft lifts the little murderer out of the arena, and the words "The 41st Annual Hunger Games" fill her vision, Indigo still smiles unknowingly. She has to smile. She simply has to.
Mercedes helps her off of the Victor's throne again when President Coriolanus Snow strides onto the stage. Not even morphling can completely erase Indigo's fear of him, and her blinding smile falters a bit as the man approaches her. He's not much older than her father, and they have the same dark, hawkish look in their eyes. Indigo can't remove her gaze from his. The imposing President of Panem smiles like a viper ready to strike as he strides towards Indigo with his gift to her perched in his hands.
"Congratulations, Miss Arnett," Snow tells her with his thin lipped smile as he uses one hand to lift the small golden coronet off of the velvet pillow in his hands. "May you always remember your Victory with pride."
Indigo's smile falls away completely as the gleaming band of gold is placed on her head. She sees the five smooth pieces of amber that protrude from its top, and realizes that they stand for the five children the girl on the TV killed. The five children that...that she killed, only a matter of days ago. The coronet suddenly feels very heavy, as if it might crack her skull and drag her to the ground. Indigo fights the urge to start screaming and fling the thing into the audience, instead pressing her lips into a tough smile.
"Thank you, Mr. President," Indigo murmurs through gritted teeth as the stage lights make her golden body glitter and pop. She feels every Panemian eye on her, but the only ones she really feels are those of Coriolanus Snow, the eyes that bore into her soul, the eyes that stare right into hers and remind her that she may have won the Games, but she has not escaped. She will never escape.
"Thank you very kindly," Indigo whispers again, having no idea what else to do, what else to say. As Snow draws back, letting go of the coronet on her head, Indigo feels as if a pair of golden manacles have been clasped around her wrists for good. As Snow smirks coolly at her and the Capitol screams her name with violent fervor, Indigo knows there is no escaping now. She blanky wonders if there ever will be an escape as Caesar lifts her hand into the air and shouts her name for the crowds once more. The golden coronet on her head answers her question, pressing down on her skull harder than before to remind her that she is theirs now. Really, she has been theirs since her name was plucked from the Reaping ball, since she was born in the slums of a District like Six. She cannot escape them even if she tried.
Indigo lets that knowledge sink into her gold-dusted skin as the applause thunders every bit of her with wild fear. She will never escape them, not now, not after everything she's done. She briefly wishes to be a piece of amber on someone else's crown as Mercedes guides her off of the stage. Maybe then, she could have escaped, but she's trapped now, forever doomed to be a golden little plaything for the people of Panem.
A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter has taken forever! I was having trouble writing these parts, and while I'm not completely satisfied with them, I still think they are enjoyable. I've actually been stockpiling some of the other chapters, so I already have chapters 12 and 13 done, so really I only have a handful more to write! I'm hoping to be able to update this story more consistently, and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you thought in a review!
Until Next Time,
Tracee