XVI. Pure Intentions

He asked for, but against the errant world
Permission to do battle for the seed,
Of which these four and twenty plants surround.

Lethia Aphelion. 18.
District One Female.

When she was just six years old, Lethia's sister Neira had her convinced that she was invisible, and to this day, she still remembers the feeling of being huddled in a ball under a desk in the hallway, tears streaming down her face as she called out for her mother.

From across the room, near the kitchen, Neira was simply laughing, "I hear this strange buzzing noise but I still have no clue where Lethia is!"

"I'm right here," She'd called out in response, "Neira, Mother, I'm right here!"

Yet her pleading was met with silence from her sister, just three years older, and complicity from her mother, too busy washing the dishes to deal with her daughters' shenanigans. "That's nice dear," was all she said before returning back to cleaning the kitchen, since that was apparently more important to her.

Frustrated, Lethia remembers pouting under the desk for three hours, waiting for somebody to notice that she was indeed not invisible, indeed not forgotten, and indeed not somebody foolish enough to blame their sister on the state of their existence and autonomy.

It's a similar feeling that she has now, standing in a circle by the weapons rack of the Capitol's training center alongside the people who are supposed to be her allies, alongside Icarus who much like her sister did, takes pleasure in forming an illusion of a world without Lethia.

"We have to be aware of one another's strengths and weaknesses," He says, his voice boasting with pride as usual, "The six of us? Yeah, we're a team, which means working together."

She wants to say something, chime in and tell them that there's absolutely no good reason to tell Icarus St. Augustine their flaws, because that's the sort of shit he feeds on, the fuel to his flames of manipulation and destruction, but whenever she tries to speak, she's invisible.

"Like me, personally I have the tendency to be a bit of a control freak," Lethia nearly laughs at his false vulnerability and the way he's trying to turn one of his biggest strengths into a vice, "Though maybe that would make me most suited to be a leader."

The Tributes from Two and Four seem fascinated by him, the light in their eyes reminding Lethia of the same joy she once felt when she would hear Icarus speak, before he just… ruined everything, because of course he did. In an odd way, she misses the times where she felt that she could trust the guy, tell him about the insanities of her home life without the fear of being judged for any of it. He was never her friend, always somebody she considered a colleague more than anything, but that doesn't mean he was nothing to her.

Lethia has too much dignity to ever admit that Icarus was the closest thing she'd ever get to having an everything, especially now that she wishes he was dead more than anything.

She needs to get out of this alliance, it's just a matter of how. She didn't even want to ally with Icarus and the others in the first place, she figured that some of the outliers were strong enough that she could rely on them if she needed any sort of support, so really the only reason she's here now is out of pressure.

Romeo, one of her mentors had told her, "I get that you and Mr. St. Augustine have had your disagreements in the past, but if you split up from him and the others before the Games even begin, it's going to put you in a bad light. I don't reckon anybody would want to sponsor somebody they see as too flippant to stay with the alliance that they're assumed to be in from the moment they step foot in the Capitol."

Unfortunately, he had a point, and so Lethia agreed she'd do her best to stick with them for at least a day or two before running off and away from them, even if she knows she's going to loathe every last minute of it. It's too late to turn back now, anyway. She doesn't need a pack of four future Icarus-followers to be plotting her demise, and as long as she stays with them, she's aware of their plans. Leaving once the arena numbers dwindle down seems like her best bet.

"Anyways… I'm done talking," Icarus finally concludes his speech which felt like it went on for hours, "What do you say we practice sparring?"

Part of Lethia hopes she's paired with him, solely for the sake of humbling him by a yard or two. Besides, it has been a while since she sparred with the guy, but at the same time, does she really want to spend more time with him in private than she was already forced to on the train and in One's apartment? No.

"I'll work with Atlantis," He announces, pointing at the girl from Four who's wearing a smile on her face.

"Perfect, you take her, that piece of shit," Her partner Calsin smirks before walking besides Ellie from District Two. They're both rather eccentric, Lethia can already tell, so it makes sense that they'd be naturally drawn to one another, "Ellie, it's you and me baby!"

"You're the piece of shit," Atlantis mumbles before walking alongside Icarus to the weapons. The two Fours have been bickering quite a bit today, and it's nice to Lethia since it makes her feel strangely valid in the whole "I hate my District partner" thing.

"I guess it's us then," Beowulf, the boy from Two saunters towards Lethia, clearly uneasy, "You're Lethia, right?"

"Sure am," She nods and expresses a genuine smile on her face, "And you're Beowulf!"

The boy tries to smile but really the look on his face is just really awkward, "Thank you for remembering."

"Of course I do," Lethia notices his posture, stoic and cold, like he's clearly nervous for the Games, and the alliance, and everything that it's going to entail, "Hey, no need to be anxious around me, buddy. We're just sparring, it's not a big deal."

Beowulf nods, "I'm not nervous, I'm sorry if I made you think I am."

Yeah, the kids undeniably a mess, but Lethia can't help but feel for him. He's the sort of person that can only be described as a shell of a child trapped in the body of an adult far too soon, and as much as he's trying to push everything down and away, it's not hard to see that he's suffering, that he's practically crushed by the weight of the world.

And that makes her worried, because he's exactly the sort of person who Icarus was built to destroy.

"Not an issue, my guy," As soon as she has that realization, Lethia feels the need to be as friendly and warm to Beowulf as possible. She doesn't need Icarus getting to him first, "So, what kind of weapon are you good with?"

He stutters, "A-all of t-them. Like I'm s-supposed to."

"Well then which one's your favorite?" Lethia's patient with him, because she knows Icarus won't be, and she knows that if there's anybody in that group that'll run away with her, it's probably going to be him.

He points at the rack, "I like swords!"

"Well then how about a sword fight?" She walks over and grabs two broadswords, handing one to Beowulf and grinning, "I'll even go easy on you if you feel pressured." That reasoning is a lie. Really, the only reason she's even considering going easy on him is because she doesn't need Icarus knowing she's recovered from her hand injury as well as she has. She'd love to have him think she's an easier target than she is.

"No need," Beowulf stares at the sword, light shining off the metal and onto his face, "This sword must be new, huh?"

She examines her own weapon, the surface without any scratches or nicks, "I bet they get new ones every year, to give the illusion that us Tributes are special."

"Aren't we special?" He asks, and Lethia's immediately frustrated, or rather disappointed that Beowulf hasn't realized just how insignificant the two of them are in the grand scheme of things to the Capitol, "We're our Districts' prides and joys, you know? We're bringing honor to them, which is why they've given us new swords."

Of course he's the kind of guy from Two who's mainly volunteering for glory and pride for their District. Lethia shouldn't be as surprised as she is, but it really is hard to remember sometimes that people actually volunteer for reasons besides helping their father and backstabbing the bitch who ruined their life.

"Well I guess you could say that too," She decides to agree with him, somewhat out of fear that an argument with him could end with an early rift in the alliance.

"And then Icarus said we're all special for being here too!" Beowulf beams, and Lethia has to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes, "You know, I've been wondering why you haven't talked to him much. He's you District partner and he seems to have a lot of good wisdom. I'm not judging you, I'm just curious."

Lethia looks around to ensure nobody's listening to them before whispering close to Icarus' ear, "Oh believe me, I've done more than my fair share of talking to Icarus. Do you want to hear a story?"

Simeon Coello. 18.
District Ten Male.

In a way, being in the Capitol has brought him stability. Sure, he's only been here for one night, but he'll be here four more before the Games, and spending five nights in the same place is a luxury Simeon can't say he's had in nearly a year. Even before "the incident," as he calls it, he's never truly known what it's like to be settled in one place, and even though staying somewhere for two months is better than two days, that's not genuine stability and genuine stability is what Simeon craves.

Which is why he's here, in the Capitol preparing for the fight of his life, because winning would mean Simeon could finally say he's stable. Winning would mean his family could finally say they're stable after seventeen years of dysfunction and another on the run because of Simeon's severe lack of impulse control.

He doesn't know what's more of a miracle, the fact he was never caught or the fact his family still loves him after he loaded sixteen men with bullets. He doesn't know, but he's thankful. He's guilty too, not because sixteen corpses are rotting in graves because of him, no Simeon will never regret delivering justice to Dinah's abusers, but because the entire family is in danger because of him.

He's grown familiar with the headlines as he traveled from town to town— Simeon Coello: Monster, Terrorist, Maniac, Psychopath— but he tries not to let the buzzwords get to his head. His family's told him time and time again, "You're not any of those things. We know your intentions were pure," but they shouldn't have to suffer because of him. They deserve to be stable.

That's why he's here, standing strong even after his District partner Ayala screamed on the train about how she was so terrified to be sitting next to a murderer, because "He volunteered to kill even more and lord knows I'm next," when he'd just tried to introduce himself. He's here for stability. If he wins, he's pardoned for his crimes and his family is sent to live in a mansion for the rest of time, all of their problems stripped away, stability. And if Simeon loses? Well, that's one less mouth for them to feed and still and end to life on the run, stability.

No matter what happens, by volunteering for the Games, Simeon is atoning for his sins against his family and the world. Dead or alive, when he leaves the arena, they'll see their retribution.

At this point, it's all he can do.

It's not much of a surprise when people ignore him during training. Simeon can't even say he blames them since he's certain most of 'em know at least part of what he's done— The ends and the means, but none of my rationale. He probably wouldn't talk to himself either, but that doesn't mean he's particularly pleased, I know that as fucked as it was, my intentions were always pure, it's a shame they'll never see the truth from my eyes. After an hour swinging an axe around at one of the booths and a few more at the plant identification station, he's really not too sure what he's supposed to do with his time. He's only got three days to prepare for something that's got a high chance of killing him, but lord knows Simeon's escaped death time and time again, so what's the harm in doing it once more?

"Am I allowed on that?" He asks a female trainer standing by a concrete wall with colored pegs. Simeon could've sworn he saw somebody climbing it a few hours ago (Did she have an eight on her shirt?) and he's never really gotten the chance to do something that could be portrayed as fun like that before. No, I'm not here for fun, I'm here for my family, but there's got to be some productive value in climbing a wall, at the very least it'll help his upper body strength.

The trainer nods, "Sure thing," and picks up a somewhat large green harness from the ground, "Do you know how to put this on?"

"I bet I can figure it out," Simeon shrugs and steps into the two loops of the harness, tightening the straps around his thighs and then pulling at the rope around his waist. It already chafes at his sweatpants and skin, and he wonders the actual benefits of the thing, but he doesn't need to make a fuss. He glances at the trainer, "This good?"

With a hand tugging at his waist rope, she smiles, "Couldn't have done it better myself. Let me get you clipped in to the rope system." She unhooks a carabiner from the wall and attaches it to Simeon's waist. Instantly, the pulling on his thighs burns, not enough to render him immobile, but enough for it to be a bother, "You should be good to go, just start climbing when you're ready." He walks a few steps closer to the climbing wall before the trainer speaks again, "Wait, District Ten? Are you the guy who—"

"Killed people?" Simeon cuts her off and speaks bluntly, no use ignoring the truth, "I mean, yes, but a week from now I reckon several more people in this room will be able to say the same."

"Oh, I'm not judging you," She reassures him, "You're just the nicest murderer I've ever seen."

"Thanks?" He half-smiles and then focuses on the climbing wall once more. It's rough at first, the sensation of the rope suspending him oddly not reassuring the way it should be, and he didn't realize his feet were so large that he'd have to worry about slipping and falling off, but after a while he gets the hang of it. Arm after arm, leg after leg, Simeon lifts himself in the air eventually reaching the top and sitting down on a wide ledge.

He can see everything. Well, not everything, but the vast majority of this room in the training center. He sees the girl from One sword fighting with the boy from Two, the pair from Six pressing buttons at the plant station, the girl from Nine fiddling with a knife and… wait a minute— He sees the boy from Eight chasing his District parter, who is the girl he saw earlier. The boy's screeching at the girl who seems on the verge of tears, and Simeon can't help but feel bad for her. He can't help but feel like he needs to do something— Because that's definitely never gotten me in trouble or anything.

Shit! How do I get down from here? He slides off the ledge and hears the rope machine click, lowering Simeon to the ground before he can fully comprehend what's happening… it's thrilling. But he doesn't have time for enjoyment, he unstraps the harness in a frenzy and waves at the trainer, "Thank you so much, ma'am; have a great day!"

His footsteps are heavy as he sprints across the training room floor until he finds the pair from Eight, the boy, no younger than thirteen screaming at the girl who's around the same age, a knife spinning in his hand as he screams, "I'm gonna get you Ascot, it may not be now, but I'm gonna get you!"

She retaliates, "When will you learn to shut up? I'll get Carolina again!"

But that doesn't phase the boy, who answers back just as quick, "She's not going to help you in the arena, Azzie-spazzie!"

What the fuck is this kid's problem, Simeon nearly rolls his eyes as he approaches the two of them, Why doesn't this kid know how to treat people? He stands in front of the boy and looks down at him, furrowing his brow and grunting, "You leave her alone, alright?"

Unbothered, the boy laughs, "Or else what? You'll kill me? Well then I'll just kill you right back."

I shouldn't have to do this, Simeon already feels bad for what he's about to say, but the way the Eight boy talks to his partner makes him want to scream. The sheer lack of respect he has for her, it's atrocious, "I've killed sixteen people twice your size, kid. Don't let yourself be the seventeenth."

He runs off, and the Eight girl slowly walks towards Simeon, not exactly afraid but for sure not comfortable, "Thank you, I mean it."

Simeon nods, "Not a problem. Do you need somebody to work with you today? I don't want to see that rascal bugging you again."

"If you don't mind, then sure, but really, you don't have to" She extends her hand, "Ascot Vionet by the way, and you?"

"Simeon Coello," He firmly squeezes her hand, "I'm sorry that happened."

"Not the worst thing that's happened to me," Ascot sighs, her eyes weary and tired, "Look, I'm probably fine. You're not my mentor, you don't need to worry about me."

But something tells Simeon he shouldn't leave.

Verdigris Ahane-Voclain. 16.
District Five Tribute.
TW: Mention of alcoholism/addiction.

They find that they're… distracted. Or maybe that's the wrong word for it, for how they feel, it's more like sure, Verdigris is physically at the training center (surrounded by twenty-three kids who want me dead which is just great) but mentally, they're still in Five.

It's funny, one of Verdigris' few memories of their mother was being told that the Capitol is "wonderful, it's fantastical," Mayuko would say whilst tucking them into bed with a kiss on the forehead, "You'll see soon enough, my dear." But really, Verdigris is quite underwhelmed, which could be in part due to the fact I'm only here to die, but whatever.

Sure, the Capitol has lights, it has people with lots of money and food objectively superior to anything they've previously consumed, but Verdigris much prefers nights in the dark feasting on tesserae because their family couldn't afford power or food. The Capitol could have everything, but for all they care, the entire place is worth nothing if it doesn't have Viorel or Viridian or hell even Halcyon.

The entire place is worth nothing if it doesn't have Viridian.

Viridian who was with them in their darkest of times. Viridian who was a shoulder to lean on whenever they were upset and didn't want to bother their father. Viridian who loved Verdigris like they were his own child.

Viridian who I ratted out to dad…

They didn't mean to tell Viorel about their step-father's return to drinking, but it just… came out of them in the Justice Building when the family was saying their goodbyes, "Dad, please take care of Viridian, he's been drinking again."

And they didn't mean for it to cause an argument either. They didn't mean for it to lead to Viorel trying their best not to cry even more (because Verdigris is the only thing to ever come from Mai and now they're practically gone) in the corner over the fact the man he thought had taught him how to love again was poisoning his own body from the inside out.

They can't even say they understand why Viridian went back to drinking in the first place. Verdigris only knows a bit about what Mai did to their father, the way she injected him with substances until he was numb enough to be her living doll, and it's just blasphemous that Viridian, somebody they love, somebody who knows more about Viorel and Mayuko then Verdigris will ever know would just put the venom in his veins for fun. They'll never get it, and whether that's a blessing or a curse is debatable.

As much as they miss Viridian, they still feel betrayed, and Verdigris can't help but think about how Viorel's coping or rather not coping with the news, Maybe I shouldn't have told him.

Or maybe they did the right thing, because Viridian's secret was gnawing at them from the inside out like a maggot and the last thing they want for their father is for him to find Viridian dead in the shower, all fucked up from the poison. Maybe Viorel can help him…

What's the use in wonderin' about them if there's only a one in twenty-four chance I find out what happens?

It's in Verdigris' nature to wonder.

They're distracted.

So much so that they don't even notice they've walked around the training center in circles at least four times now and haven't even stopped at a single station, Fuck; the other Tributes are probably judging me now. They're probably wondering why the fuck this Outer-District weakling hasn't done a thing in hours, and they probably think I'm planning something.

Or maybe they're too busy with their own training to give a shit what Verdigris does. Maybe they've already written them off as one of the first to crash and burn inside the arena, and maybe they think Verdigris knows it too, that they're dead meat. To be honest, it was about time.

Everyone else looks so serious, so hellbent on victory that if they take even a minute to take a sip with water they'll probably die, while sure Verdigris could probably benefit from adopting that mindset, they're of the opinion that a few days of fucking around with random weapons and learning how to set traps they'll never have the opportunity to deploy in the arena isn't going to benefit them in the slightest. Nobody learns shit in training, it's obvious to them. That's why the kids from One, Two, and Four win most've the time, because they've strengthened themselves for years before the Games. And of course they're assholes about it too, Verdigris can practically smell the superiority reeking off their skin even from afar, would be funny to tear one of 'em's heads off, Who's the strong one now, huh, but that's not how it works. If Verdigris gets too close to them, they're deader then dead.

They're angry want to punch something. They're angry and they have no clue what else to do, so they want to punch something. Verdigris hasn't thrown a good punch since the Rendon incident, and now's probably the best time to start up again, considering they're going to have to do a whole lot of punching and kicking if they ever want to see their family again. There's no use trying to learn something from the beginning when they can just get better at what they already know.

Verdigris walks over to a punching bag and picks up the metal gauntlets on the ground beside it, Nothing wrong with additional strength, right, the aluminum cold against their fingers and palms. When they bend them into a fist, there's a slight clanking noise produced, but it's not distracting or anything.

They step back from the punching bag and with a loud grunt they strike, once than twice and another and again, their breaths grow heavier and their right hand begins to ache but they keep striking… Fuck the Hunger Games… Fuck my life… Fuck alcohol… Fuck Mai for getting pregnant with me at all… Fuck everything! Verdigris' aggressive thoughts are racing but they don't even care. With every drop of sweat that forms on their face, they feel free.

Another and again, another and again, They punch so hard the bag falls over and onto the ground, "Fuck!" Verdigris's embarrassingly loud, and they wish they had a hoodie so they could cover themselves up and hide. They try to lift up the punching bag but they get caught off guard, this time by the sound of footsteps in their direction.

"Let me help you," They turn their head to see a girl with long red hair and the number three on their shirt, "Are you okay?"

Immediately taken aback by the girl, Verdigris rolls their eyes, "Yes, I'm screaming and punching things but I'm perfectly fine."

She laughs, but it's not a genuine laugh. It's one of those laughs that girls on the playground would make at them in a shitty attempt to seem polite, "I saw you earlier, walking around and what not. I'm Hedy by the way."

Together, they lift the punching bag back into the upright position and Verdigris shrugs, "What did you think I was thinking when I was walking around? I'm curious, if that's odd." They wait a moment but no response, "Oh, and I'm Verdigris."

"I was waiting for your name, Hedy nods, and they're a thousand percent sure she's judging the shit out of them at this very moment, "But I'm going to take a gander and guess you were thinking of things back at home, in… Five, right?"

How the fuck did she know? Verdigris is the slightest bit disturbed, yet intrigued at the same time, "Yeah, I'm from Five."

"Did I get it right?" Hedy asks.

Verdigris smirks rather playfully, "I'm not telling you."

They've got a feeling there's something off about this Hedy girl, but they're not quite sure they can put a finger on it. Maybe they're overanalyzing the situation and she's totally normal, but there's something in her eyes that just seems demented, like all of this is a joke to her because she's sure she can win herself and nobody else matters.

"Alright then," She flips her hair and goes to turn away, "I guess I'll just leave you be, all alone, all lost, all disturbed."

Alone? Lost? Disturbed? Is that what I look like to people?

Before Hedy can get too far, Verdigris ventures closer to her, "You don't think I'm those things, right?"

"Well, I don't know what you were thinking about earlier, but I'm assuming there's something messed up in that little brain of yours if you don't want to tell me," A sly smile grows on her face, "You're planning on blowing up the arena, aren't you? Should I tell the authorities now, or later?"

"Wha—" They guffaw, no clue what the hell Hedy's even trying to do at this point, "I was thinking about my dad—"

Verdigris sighs, This was her plan all along, wasn't it?

"Oh well I was thinking of my father earlier today!" She clasps her hands together, "Do you want to tell me about yours?"

They can't trust her. There's no way in hell they can trust somebody else if they couldn't even trust Viridian to not ruin everything. But they've got a feeling Hedy isn't going to let them get away from her so easy, and she seems like the sort who they shouldn't get on the bad side of.

"Not particularly," Verdigris admits, knowing that won't quite end the conversation but it's worth a try, "You're more than welcome to tell me about yours."

"I'd rather not," Hedy's voice suddenly lowers, "Between you and me, he was an alcoholic. It's a touchy subject."

Suddenly Hedy's odd disposition makes sense. Maybe she's just as broken as they are. And maybe it's worse because maybe Hedy's father died of alcohol poisoning— Shit, that better not happen to Viridian… Shit! Shit! Shit!

They feel bad for even judging Hedy in their head, because she looks so sad now, and maybe she'll be less sad if she has somebody to relate to.

"I understand, Hedy." Verdigris speaks up, "My step-father has had a drinking problem as of late. I'm here if you want to talk about it."

She presses her lips together, "I'd love that."

Atlantis Seasbane. 18.
District Four Female.
TW: Mention of self-harm and suicide.

It's after lunch when she realizes that she got off on the wrong foot with Calsin, that maybe she overreacted just a smidgen when he… existed. But hey, Atlantis wasn't the initiator of their little feud if you can even call it that. It was him, for the record. She'd tried to be all polite and introduce herself to him when they first got on the train but all he had to say in return was "fuck you." Maybe she used some choice words after the fact (you demoralized him, you witch), but again he started it!

And maybe calling him a shell of his missing brother's memory was a bit harsh, but Atlantis doesn't lie and it's really laughable that Sevilin who was far more skilled than Calsin wasn't chosen to volunteer yet the latter was. But then again, she knows the Verrillo family's loaded (and you're so fucking jealous of them), and as much as she respects Shane as an individual, he's totally the sort to accept bribes for volunteer spots. It doesn't matter this year anyway, there's no way Calsin's going to go further than her, because Shane's said time and time again, "The 52nd Games are your year Atlantis. You're going to make us all so proud."

Proud.

Nobody's ever told Atlantis they were proud of her before Shane, and it means more to her than she'll ever admit (it meant more coming from Alithiya but she isn't here and she'll never come back if she knows what's good for her) . For every shattered wineglass on the ground at her father's hands, every yelling match with her mother that ended with her choking on her own tears, Shane's always here to tell Atlantis she's strong for getting through it, and that's why she's his Victor.

The same can't be said for Calsin. Spoiled, entitled, foul-mouthed, incompetent (just like me). As hard as he tries to flex his false superiority, Atlantis takes solace in the fact that it's her who's destined to be in these Games and he's just collateral damage in the hustle for Academy renovations, Bet they'll even give me a statue if I win, and how funny is it that Calsin's failure will cover construction costs. The Academy already has a sculpture forged from seaweed and whicker in the name of their founder Lana Lotus, and Shane's said Atlantis is similar to her, so maybe if she wins when Lana couldn't, that'll prove that she's at the very least equal to her, and that means she's worthy of a relic of her own to live longer than she ever will (bold of me to assume I'm worthy of living).

But Calsin. Maybe he's not all that bad, maybe he's just hypersensitive the same way she is, maybe he deserves an apology. Atlantis is admittedly inexperienced with those, which is her own fault (just like well everything), but it should be fine, as long as she talks like she means it, as long as she ignores those nasty thought about Calsin that've filled her mind for the past day (to avoid those thoughts about myself), it should be fine. He seems to be getting along with Ellie the train wreck from Two, so maybe he's going to be open minded (because you sure aren't).

She catches him talking to Ellie, laughing with her like they're the only two people in the world (the sort of laughter Alithiya brought me yet I wasted), and she taps him on the shoulder, "Calsin, could we talk for a minute?"

Immediately, he sneers at her (He isn't giving me a chance. Why isn't the giving me a chance?) and rolls his eyes, "Just say whatever you need to say now. I was actually having a good day, yet here you are, trying to ruin it." He mutters something next about their mentor Crista, but Atlantis is too trapped in her head to hear it (I'm always trapped).

"I just wanted to apologize," She twists the lower hem of her shirt between her fingers, "I wasn't very nice to you these past few days, and I think it would be best for the two of us if we just started fresh, you know, since we're going to be allies and what not."

It's like he doesn't even consider what she says when Calsin answers, "That's sweet Atlantis, but honestly you haven't given me a reason to trust your words. I'm sure I needn't remind you what people say about your words."

What? That they kill? That they led to Daria's scars and Celestino's withdrawal? That I'm such a massive bitch for saying the things everyone was thinking about themselves? Why are you afraid to say it Calsin? Why are you afraid to admit that everything I say will always be more powerful than anything you've ever even though? Atlantis loses herself for a moment and wipes away the single tear under her eye, So you do feel bad then? You do feel bad that it was your words that lead to Meridian making a fool out of herself last year and her lover hanging herself in grief? Lies, you don't feel bad Atlantis— Yes I do! I feel horrible! —No you don't asshole— How can I be forgiven? — You can't even forgive yourself, don't bother getting the forgiveness of others.

As per usual, her own mind's betrayed her and all she can say to Calsin is, "Rot in hell. I can't wait until you're dead and your family will finally be free of their inferior child. They tried to pay for you to be here and you can't even respect your District partner. You disgust me!"

"Fuck you," He points his middle finger in her direction, "You diabolical piece of shit!"

Their verbal carnage is enough to get the attention of Icarus, the boy from One who they've all sort of agreed is best fit to lead them, well, all of them besides his partner Lethia who's clearly drowning in her own insecurities, "What's going on between you two? Do you want to talk about it? I'd be happy to mediate."

"Don't talk to him," Atlantis hears Lethia mutter under her breath.

Icarus snaps his head in her direction, "Hey! I'm just trying to be nice to them."

"Bullshit," She replies.

Even after all of this, after everything he's said, Atlantis is still willing to talk to Calsin, because maybe under the eye of Icarus they'll actually be able to have a cohesive and productive discussion, "That's fine with me."

But Calsin simply smiles, "That's not necessary. Ellie and I were actually thinking—"

"We're leaving!" She cuts him off with an excited tone to her voice, "I'm sure you people are great, but Sinsin and I have been having lots of fun together just the two of us, and it just is really tense here.

Atlantis is appalled, That's not how it works? He doesn't just get to leave?

Calsin breaks the silence that passes over the group, "So we'll see you in the arena, but try and have fun before then?"

They walk off as a pair, Ellie giggling, "I hope they don't kill us Sinnny!"

And again, silence. Icarus looks at the two castaways before rolling his eyes at Lethia and the Two boy Beowulf, "I take it you guys are leaving as a pair too?"

"I— I don't think so?" Beowulf stutters, as nervous as ever, "R—right?"

"We sure are," Lethia basically ignores him, grabbing his hand and pulling him away, "Trust me Beowulf, this is for the best."

"If you say so," Dejected, he follows her, "Bye Atlantis, bye Icarus! It was nice to meet you both."

And then it's just the two of them. Atlantis Seasbane and the golden boy from District One. Neither know what to say, but it's Icarus who eventually speaks, "I'm glad you're not leaving. Really, we don't need the others. Lethia left because she hates me, I was expecting it."

"And Calsin left because he hates me, I should've expected it," She sighs, "The weird thing is, I have no clue what I ever did to make him loathe me. What about you?"

"Same," He takes a deep breath and then looks around to make sure nobody's watching him. She's not too sure she can trust whatever it is that he's about to say, but nonetheless Atlantis is intrigued, "What you said was true by the way. I can't stand Verrillo, and Dubois is just as messy. I have no clue how she even got here."

"Thank you, thank you," It's nice though, having somebody that agrees with her, "Lethia clearly has a false martyr complex and…" she takes a second to chuckle, "Don't even get me started on Beowulf, what a coward."

He simply smirks, and Atlantis is once again suspicious of Icarus St. Augustine. But at the same time, he's the first person here to actually validate her, and that makes him worth something, right? Again, it's silence, and again, it's Icarus who breaks it, "So Atlantis, what do you say the two of us play a little game?"

Judas Nazario. 18.
District Seven Male.

It doesn't take a genius to see that he's without a doubt, the best person in this training center. Really, it's a shame he's been so inconvenienced by this whole Hunger Games bullshit. Besides, if looks could kill, Judas would win without batting an eyelash, so he's already halfway to victory. It's just a walk in the park, truly. He'll dance with devils in the arena, come out and schmooze with Capitolites for a few days, and then he'll be back in Seven with his cat and Allegra.

Best of all, Wesley will be there too, except Judas won't even give him the time of day, no sir. He can't wait to catch a glance at that smug look on his face when he thinks he's hot shit because he knows a Victor of the Hunger Games, only to be swiftly shooed away by one of his bodyguards, because finally there will be somebody guarding his fine body, Should've been like this a long time ago. Just the thought of life after he wins is enough to keep him giddy, it's just a matter of getting there.

He sits with his legs crossed at a station dedicated to setting traps. Besides, as good as his hands are for magic tricks, he's been told time and time again that they're good for other things to–– like setting traps, obviously. A trainer approaches him with a cautious look on his face and asks, "Do you need help with anything?"

Please? Me, Judas Nazario needing help with something? It should be the other way around, But he doesn't verbalize his disscontempt with the man, instead winking in this general vicinity and smiling, "Well aren't you a delight? I appreciate the offer, but I think I'm more than capable of figuring all of this out on my own."

"Okay then," The trainer nods and then leaves Judas to be off on his own, which is when he promptly realizes I don't know how any of this shit works! But obviously, he's not going to go out of his way and get the guy's attention, no of course not, that would be embarrassing. Instead, Judas'll do what he does best, simply figure it out by himself. He can just… pretend it's a magic trick or something.

He sees that the station's dedicated to a wire trap, which is cute, and it would be cuter if he could have the guarantee there'll be accessible wires in the arena, but there's no guarantees in the arena. It's like gambling in a way, there's so many indistinguishable variables and at the end of the day, sure he can line up his cards however he wants, but if he doesn't have lady luck on his side, he's a goner. As he begins unhooking the wires from one of the hooks, he lets out a deep sigh, This would be so much better if I were drunk. It would be funny too, six trained child murderers and eighteen possibly charming outliers running around with weapons and trying to kill one another. Somebody falling onto their own spear and dying? Please, that shit's fucking hilarious!

Another funny thing is the lack of supervision in this training dump. They designed the sweatpants of the Tributes' training uniforms to not have strings inside them because according to his mentor Diana, there's worry that kids'll hang themselves with them, yet at the same time Judas is kicking around with a literal spiked wire and he could so easily tie it around his neck when one of the trainers weren't winning and it would be too late for them to do anything. He won't, but he could, and it would kill him a hell of a lot faster than sweatpants string.

Judas tries to line the wire up from one of the pegs to the other but it just seems worthless, and holy shit, do his hands hurt from touching the wire. Yeah, they really did not think the safety of this place through, like anybody could easily stab themselves or someone else and it's not like they could be punished with death when the whole reason we're here is to die anyway. He doesn't know whether to be disturbed or amused by himself and his notable abilities in pointing out the bullshit of this place, which he will talk about very highly when he's declared Victor.

He fiddles with the lighter in his hand, the one he used when he burned the forest by his childhood home and chuckles, Or I could just burn this whole place down. That sure would be the easier way to do all of this, but alas, that won't give him a speck of glory and Judas certainly doesn't have anything else to win for besides himself and glory, so he might as well embrace the sheer pomposity of it all.

The people at the station next to him seem interesting enough. It's a station for tying ropes and the girl from Six is strapping her maniacally laughing partner to the wall. Judas isn't sure how he feels about having allies throughout all of this. On one hand, being alone is well… lonely, but on the other, being betrayed is easier when he knows people who could betray him, but on the other—wait, that's three hands— there's nothing saying he can't betray them. It'll be like Wesley, betraying people who've already betrayed you.

These people could be completely normal and lovely though, in which case Judas would feel bad if he had to hurt them, but not too bad because that'll just mean he's a winner.

He decides to step up from his station and introduce himself to them. There's no harm in a mere friendly introduction after all, he can move on after that.

The girl sees him coming and shouts at him, "What the hell do you want?"

"Oh." Judas hunches his shoulders and whispers at the ground, turning away in defeat.

"I was kidding," The Six girl laughs out loud, "Oh my lord, I totally just seemed like such an ass right there, didn't I?"

He pivots, returning to the pair from Six because maybe this actually was a good idea. He adjusts his posture so it's strong again and speaks, "I mean, what would you do if I said yes?"

"Well I'd applaud you for your honesty," She gestures for Judas to step closer to him, which he does. Now that he's closer, he can see a look of glee on her District partner's face in spite of the fact he's fully tied to a wall, "But you didn't call me an ass, so…"

"Okay, well you were an ass," He admits, because there was a slight moment right there where he did feel bad about himself, which is out of character, frankly.

The girl snickers, "You're calling me, a lady, an ass? Now, you gave me the impression that you were a man of class Seven… wait, what's your name?" Meanwhile, her District partner's in hysterics, despite not having said anything.

"Judas Nazario," He extends his hand and receives a rather firm handshake in exchange.

"Mozi Hongqi," She lets go of Judas' hand and then points at her still tied up partner, "This is Malin Mardari."

"Noted." He watches Malin just sort of glare at him and he doesn't know if he's supposed to laugh or not, "Can I just ask, why hasn't he said anything?"

Mozi giggles, "Malin's they, but it's funny you should ask that. Malin, open up discostick." The kid opens their mouth to reveal a sort of void where their tongue should be. It looks painful, even if Malin doesn't seem too bothered by it. Mozi goes on to explain, "In case you hand't noticed, they got their tongue cut out."

They, got it. Judas can't help but wonder what the hell happened for this guy to get their tongue cut out, and as afraid as he is, he's way more curious. There's got to be a story behind why Malin simply doesn't have a tongue, and looking closely, one of their hands only has two fingers.

"So how do you communicate then?" Judas asks, genuinely intrigued because he has a feeling he'll be spending more time with these people.

"I read their lips," Mozi nods, and Malin does the same before moving their mouth, "Like now, Malin just said that they think you're hot." They blush, and Judas assumes Mozi wasn't supposed to translate that. But of course, Judas doesn't mind. Malin lightly kicks her in the shin and then mouths something else, which Mozi relays, "They said to ignore that, but also that they can teach you how to read lips later. They like your energy."

"So does that mean I'm seeing you later?" Judas asks, a sly smile on their face from the success of the interaction.

Again, the pair nods in unison, and Judas is way more optimistic about the next few weeks than he was five minutes ago.

Alright besties! I will just be real with y'all and say that I fucking hate writing training. That being said, this was my fave training chapter I've written in 4 fics so please appreciate it. We had a very fun and action packed experience here at a common defense umm things are heating up in the Career fandom? Yeah… y'all really thot these 6 hoes would get along for more than a day? Pls… wtf is a career pack? But alas, their journey is not yet done they still have conflicts ! And other alliances exist how exciting! Um… we have seen most of the kids in training but not all of them and we will see them next chapter which will be very good just like this one!

Also... congrats to Malin Mardari for winning the poll. Y'all have good taste for this one, I fuckin' love that lil rat. Also congrats to Haiden for making a little bitch so loveable, you win absolutely jack shit!

All I have to say now is thanks dawn for naming the chapter bc I didnt wanna

Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds