XXVIII. Trust Me Not

Rises a hill, and mounts not very high,
Wherefrom descended formerly a torch
That made upon that region great assault.

The next morning, the drugs wear off and she realizes she's screwed.

"Fuck," Ellie growls, her voice a low husk as she awakens. Her head is spinning, and not in the fun way like yesterday, when she saw rainbows and clouds and the world so brightly saturated like never before. Yesterday was a dream. A saccharine delight tinted ruby red and lapis blue, but today, Ellie's forced back into reality.

The crystal pendants hanging off the chandelier above her no longer shimmer an iridescent array of hues; instead they're translucent white and as dead as the eyes of the nine fallen souls that yesterday claimed. Nine people gone, and Ellie's brain is far too scattered to remember who they were, and what she was doing when they fell. A drug-induced frenzy seemed like great fun at the moment, but sobriety has proven itself to be a plague when all is said and done.

Because she doesn't remember shit! Instead, her mind is laced with vague tableaux of the day before: putting on a plain white set of clothing, flinching as she stood on a pedestal when the Games' starting gong whistled through the air, standing against the wall as Sinny threw his spear at a poor kid's throat, entering this castle and jumping on a sofa with feathers in the air. They all seem like independent thoughts, pictures on pages without words to string them together, and lord Ellie's head just continues to spin and spin and spin.

It was supposed to be fun, she muses, laying flat on her back in fear that getting up will leave her struck with vertigo. Ellie remembers what Reina would say whenever she goofed off too much in training. "The Hunger Games aren't supposed to be fun." Even now, her sisters words are proving themselves to be correct, just like they always do.

She tilts her head slightly to the right to see Sinny hunched over in a chair, eyelids heavy and his head in his hands. He looks… dejected, more so than usual. Ellie swears that the two of them had a fight yesterday, but for all she knows, it could've been yet another remnant of her acidic euphoria. She certainly hopes it is; the idea of being in a fight with Sinny is a rather unpleasant one. Ellie's not sure how much he cares about her, and she grows less sure with every passing hour, but if there's one person she wishes to remain on the good side of, it's him.

"You okay?" she says with a yawn. Sinny cautiously trembles, his fingernails digging into his palms. With a rapid exhale, he rolls himself off the chair and extends his arms down to the tips of his toes. "I said, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he grunts, continuing his stretches. There's a hint of exasperation in his voice that Ellie can't quite find the source of. He cracks his knuckles then reaches up to the ceiling on the tips of his toes. Normally, Sinny would be chatty and lively towards her, or towards anybody for that matter, so thoughts of concern spill into her mind.

Does he hate me or something? Ellie wonders in fear that yesterday's epic high accidentally pushed his buttons. She noticed early on in their time together that Sinny can be quite irate under the right circumstances, though normally said circumstances are just mentions of Atlantis Seasbane, that meanie.

Ellie's used to being hated. Most people in Two called her every slur in the book, and then they invented new ones to taunt her with. She's grown far too familiar with being forced to hide her face from the crowds in fear that if somebody sees her, they'll say something that'll wipe her wide eager smile right off her face. The comparisons to Reina just made things worse, especially when her twin would defend those who ridiculed her by saying ,"they don't understand you; I promise it's fine," as if that'd actually help.

Yes, taunts have become Ellie's least favorite acquaintance, but never were they from somebody she liked. Never has she ever faced implications of scrutiny from somebody she considered a friend. And that leaves her stuck between the rock of ignoring her the sadness of a potential betrayal or the hard place of addressing a problem that may not exist in the first place. Ellie's gone far too long letting her feelings simmer, her quarrels unsolved, and her feelings repressed, and so, for once, she picks the latter.

She inhales slowly then exhales with the same rhythm. "Sinny, can we talk?"

"About?" He twitches his eyebrow, a perplexed look on his face.

Ellie's hands shake as she takes another deep breath. "I was just wondering, are you mad at me?"

As those words leave her lips, she feels like a toddler. She feels like when she lived in Four and her mother would catch her breaking the rules, going places where she shouldn't be. Always afraid of being the disappointment she was doomed to become, she'd ask her mom that same question. She'd be met with a kiss on the forehead and a claim of reassurance, but something tells her that Sinny won't give her the same. At least not the kiss on the forehead part, because he's gay.

"I'm not exactly mad at you," Sinny says in a nervous tone. "I'm just… not quite thrilled with you right now either. I know we had this conversation yesterday, but I assume you—"

"Don't remember it?" Ellie guesses. "Yeah, you'd be right. I'm sorry."

"Right." She notes the way he didn't accept her apology. "What I was saying yesterday is that I feel like you're not taking our alliance seriously."

"You think I'm cheating on you?" she stammers. "I mean— that sounded wrong. You think I have different allies?"

"Definitely not," Sinny sighs. "By not taking our alliance seriously, I mean that you're not exactly playing to win right now. I feel like you're just bumbling through the Games like they're not important, and I know deep down inside, they're quite important to you, right?"

Right. I have to do well, because I promised Reina that I would. I promised mom too; one of us would volunteer, and we'd win to create a better life for our family. Ellie reminds herself why she's here, reality somehow more sobering than the lack of acid in her veins. Did she fuck everything up already? Is she really dumb enough to have fucked everything up less than a full day into the Games? I don't think so…

"They are." Ellie says with certainty. "They're important to me for the same reason they're important to you. We both have something to prove, and that's why we're supposed to work so well together."

Admittedly, Sinny has more to live for than Ellie does. He's got peace to bring back to a District flooded by a hellstorm, and all she has is the desire to prove a point to her sister who could possibly be dead, and the prospect of money that her family could probably live without. Her motives are coal in comparison to Sinny's diamond-studded desires.

He nods his head. "I'm glad you seem to have come to your senses, Ellie." He sounds like one of the trainers back in Two and she somewhat despises it. "We've got a busy day ahead of us; it can't be clouded by your delirium."

Even if he's no longer mad, Sinny's still talking down to her. She doesn't like it one bit, so she says, "Y'know, I'd probably take this way more seriously if you talked to me like I was your friend instead of a little kid that needs to be looked after."

Her words stop him dead in his tracks. "Is that what I actually sound like? Holy shit— I'm so fucking sorry, Ellie."

His apology is brief, but Ellie's forced to decide it suffices. She doesn't want to push his buttons somehow; it's already been a hell of a morning. She nods. "Yeah, it's kinda sort of very rude of you."

"I'd imagine so," he responds. "Just… that was dickish of me."

Again, Ellie simply nods.

"But—" Sinny quickly changes his tone. "We've got a big day ahead of us. I think we ought to explore this place and see if there's any resources." He picks up the spear on the table beside him. "You ready?"

And just like that, more of Ellie's needs gone ignored and more of her feelings hurt in the process. She wants so badly to give him the benefit of the doubt, because she knows the Games have never catered towards the fickle, but it's hard when he's basically pushed her aside like dust in the wind.

More and more, Ellie's begun to understand why Sinny doesn't like Atlantis. She puts the needs of others aside to propel herself to the top, not caring about the boulevard of tears she leaves behind her. More and more, Ellie's begun to understand that Sinny doesn't like how Atlantis is just a reflection of the parts of himself he wishes he could cast away. She's worried she'll be the reason his demons crawl out of the ground, and then she'll have nowhere left to hide.

Verdigris squeezes the vial of poison in their hand and reminds themself. I'm fine; this is going to be fine. I'm still here, and this is all going to be fine.

They've been in the arena not even an entire twenty-four hours and they're already growing desperate to get out. Sure, Verdigris definitely have it better than the nine kids who died yesterday, and anybody else who's stuck here, but they have every damn right to complain, especially when—

"We should go hunting today!" Hedy announces with a devious grin.

Verdigris' opinion of Hedy seems to vacillate every hour. On one hand, she's protecting them, or at least they think she is, for now. But on the other, though they're able to rationalize Hedy's patricide, it doesn't change the fact she's still cold to this day, remnants of a murderess still creeping beneath her skin. To consider murder is one thing, but to actually go through with it; that's completely something different. Sure, Verdigris has had more than a few intrusive thoughts about leaving Mayuko dead on the floor over the past few days, but if they were actually face to face with her, they probably wouldn't be able to cast her down to the pits of hell without panicking.

Maybe Hedy was panicking too right before she killed her father, but Verdigris has a feeling she's always been so painfully phlegmatic. Verdigris doesn't particularly care to ask; bringing up the subject again could draw suspicion towards themself.

The idea of hunting, though. That's unsurprisingly unappetizing to them. They know that the nature of the Games is killing strangers until you're forced to kill the people you know, but the second day seems a bit, well, early, especially when all six Careers are still alive, even if they're separate.

Verdigris doesn't make eye contact when they speak to her. Instead, they pick at the bark of the log where they're sat, attempting to ease their boredom and anxiety towards the days ahead. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Hedy?" They know that if they looked up now, they'd see their ally scowling at them as if they were a disappointment to the world. Best not to. "It's only day two, so I question what exactly we'd gain if we went hunting."

Hedy walks beside them and uses her index finger to lift their chin, forcing eye contact. "Power, mainly." Verdigris gulps, their cheeks reddening as she steps away. "Let's face it. Nobody knows who we are. There's three groups of Careers out there and the alliance of the Sixes and the boy from Seven. All of them are threats, but nobody knows about us and the fact that we may have a fighting chance. If they think we're weak, they'll come after us."

Isn't that a good thing? Verdigris considers. Well, not the coming after us part, but the fact nobody really knows our capabilities. If the more showy alliances target one another, it leaves the two of them safe on the sidelines. If they try to enter an already crowded playing field, they'll just get themselves killed before they can even think about regretting such an awful decision.

"I'd imagine they're pretty busing targeting one another right now," they argue. "Do you really think it's the best idea for us to meddle with large alliances if they'll easily be able to take us down. Sure, you're smart and I can sort-of throw punches, and our albeit limited weapons definitely give us an advantage, but at the end of the day, we're both sixteen and they're full grown adults practically."

Hedy rolls her eyes. "Well, first off, one to two years older than us isn't much of a difference if you really think about it." Verdigris lowers their head, admitting that they were wrong. "But that's besides the point, I wasn't thinking of killing the big players, at least not at the current moment."

Does that mean she's… lord no, she can't actually mean she wants to… They visibly shake in fear of whatever vicious thoughts are racing through her brain. They sigh, and then ask, "Who do you plan on killing then?"

She shakes her head as if she's being completely obvious, and well she definitely is, but Verdigris doesn't want what they're thinking of to be true.

"The girl from Eight and the boy from Nine." Hedy paces, tapping her finger to her chin like she's the villain in some sort of movie. "They're young, they're weak, and we need them gone. If we're subtle enough in killing Eight, her ally from Ten won't know who did it, and he'll go on a rampage, a la his interview. The big players will surely take him down then, and I reckon Nine will be collateral damage. If it's just the major threats against one another, they fight and injure one another and by the time we make our entrance, they'll all be either dead or injured, making handling them easier."

It's not the worst plan in the world, but it relies on a lot of unknown variables. Not only that, but it relies on one of them killing Eight, a literal child, and somehow being subtle enough about it that her volatile murderer of an ally doesn't notice.

It relies on killing a child, one younger than their stepbrother Halcyon too. The fact Hedy seems so willing to do such a thing is a red flag for sure.

"Smart." Verdigris nods their head with concern. "I just… don't agree with the morality of killing a thirteen year old for no reason, you get me?"

"The Hunger Games aren't about morals," Hedy sneers. "It'll be quick and easy, just a knife to her throat and then you run before she can notice. Or… just a drop of poison if you're actually nervous about it that much."

Verdigris looks down at the vial once more. Somehow the idea of making a child's flesh rot is even more disturbing than simply stabbing her. "Or, you could kill her?"

"Why?" She crosses her arms and glares. "Are you afraid? How am I supposed to have an ally who's afraid of killing? Aren't we supposed to benefit one another?"

She struts closer to Verdigris and puts a hand on their shoulder. Instinctually, they wrap their hand around her wrist and try to twist, only for Hedy to dig her nails deeper into their skin. They furrow their brow and grunt, trying to shove her weight off of their body.

With their other hand, Verdigris continues to twist at Hedy's skin, pinching until small rivulets of blood stain their hands.

"Let go of me," she screams, trying and failing to push them over.

Verdigris grinds their teeth then drags Hedy's hand off their shoulder and onto the ground, the rest of Hedy's body going down with it. It's not until they see the imprints of their fingernails on her wrist that they realize they've made a mistake.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry." Verdigris leaps off the bench and goes to pull Hedy off the ground. They're half expecting her to punch them in the face, or maybe even kick them, but instead, she's absolutely straight-faced.

"I knew you had this sort of rage in you still," she says after a minute or two of silence, continuing with her pacing as if nothing happened. "I could never fight like that, you know. If I tried to go after Eight, I wouldn't nearly be as effective as you. It wasn't very nice of you to attack me, by the way. You know, there's a way you could make it up to me…"

Well, shit. Verdigris kicks their heels together in frustration. They hate how Hedy's seemingly gifted in doing the bare minimum, yet still getting a reaction out of them. And now I have to... Fuck… I can't. They sigh, just so fucking done with it all.

"Fine," Verdigris stammers, their voice quivering. There's not much they can do this point, because once again they let their anger take advantage of them. Once again, they've royally fucked themself over. "Tomorrow, though. For all we know, one of the others will take her out today."

"Right when we wake up." Hedy concedes. "And if you change your mind—"

Then what? You'll kill me? Verdigris cuts her off. "I won't."

"Good," she taunts. "I don't think you should go out now… you're clearly a bit riled up. Maybe you should work on that?"

"I'm sorry again," they say, this time not quite sure they mean it. "I won't hurt you again, I promise—"

"It's because you're still afraid of me, aren't you?" Hedy snaps, her face red with anger. "Look, I understand that I'm a monster and—"

"You're not, you're not." Verdigris speaks soothingly, hoping they can calm her down. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"Then you better make it up to me tomorrow." Hedy spins around on their heel then walks back into their tent.

If Verdigris wants to keep her allegiance, they just may have to. Hedy's a treat in her own right, and it's best for them to aim a loaded gun at anybody besides themself.

They know that the Hunger Games are all about sacrifice, but they never thought that their morals would be the first thing they lost.

Truth be told, Malin's starting to get a bit restless. They've been stuck in this dumpster of a city for not even a day, yet they're already sick of it. Seriously, who the fuck tries to build a city in a mountain and thinks it's a good idea? The Gamemakers better be more interesting next year, damnit!

Sitting still has never been something that Mal's particularly good at. They were born to be on the run, fucking shit up whenever they had even a slight chance at it, not being a sitting goose in a dumbass mountain city. Sitting still is also something that Mal has virtually no experience with; the last, and basically only time they were stuck somewhere for an extended period of time, it was prison. Though I'm starting to think this place ain't that different after all.

Their recklessness has always been destined to get them in trouble. It's what the Duke said when he got word of the fact Malin and Orsino had somehow wound up with a Peacekeeper's blood trailing behind them. They were supposed to… "control their impulses" or whatever, and well it's not like they wanted to kill the Peacekeeper, but they'd be lying if they said it wasn't fun. Mal's never not done something purely for the thrill, hence why they're here instead of rotting in prison, and they know their caprice is a flaw, but it sure is a fucking fun one.

It'll probably get them killed eventually, Mal's more than accepted that, but good grief does thinking of death put a damper on their mood. They're supposed to think about the death of other people, not themselves… duh! They're more than aware that they're a hopeless case, but the good news is, they have absolutely zero hope!

Noticing how they're fidgeting in their chair, Mozi stands besides them and puts her hand on their shoulder. Oh! Hiya' mommy! Wait— Mozi, not mommy! Wow, it is a good thing that I can't talk. That's something Mal never thought they'd think. Damn, being cooped up is doing a number on them.

She sits down beside them and quirks a brow upwards. "Are you okay?"

They examine the rest of the room where they've chosen to settle for the day, an abandoned tavern of sorts, with plenty of benches covered in cobwebs. It's not the only building in the mountain, but when Mal and their allies saw it, they were drawn to it for obvious reasons. It seemed nice at first, but good lord has the dust on the walls fucked with their ability to breathe properly, something already hindered by the cigarettes and weed they'd inhale back in Six.

Judas is in the corner, yet again— fucking weirdo, even if he's hot— seemingly observing the two of them, and Mozi spent the morning looting all the food from the cabinets in the back of the tavern, all while Malin sat on their ass and pouted. Seems… typical, honestly.

They roll their eyes, hoping that's enough of a response to Mozi's question.

It isn't. "I said, Malin, are you okay?"

With a dramatic sigh, they mouth, "No. I'm actually really fucking bored, thanks."

"You're bored? In the Hunger Games?" She nervously giggles. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Her voice projects loud enough for Judas to hear it and stand up from his pity corner. "It means, they're a lazy sack of shit."

Fuckin' bitch. Mal crosses their arms and huffs. I didn't realize somebody who decided to start a fight with a bunch of Careers and their dominatrix was smarter than me. Well… lots of people are smarter than me— that's not the point. Why is it that all the hot ones are such assholes?

Mozi tilts her head upwards in disgust. "That's not a very nice thing for you to say to your ally, now is it?"

Mal pouts in response, mouthing, "Now is it?"

"You guys are fuckin' ridiculous," Judas says, taking a seat at one of the barstools. "Do you really think one of us is going to win the Games if we all camp out in a musty tavern?"

"Obviously not," Mozi hisses. "We're planning on doing something; obviously we're not numbskulls, Judas. I was just checking in on my dearest Malin because they looked perturbed."

"You never checked in on me when I was literally injured," Judas snaps, hitting the tables with his hands. "If this idiot is more important to you, why the fuck am I here?"

Well first of all, Mozi literally checked up on you several times, but go off I guess, Mr. Drama Queen. Mal does their best to avoid rolling their eyes, but it's hard when Judas is stressing them out to this degree. Sure, they're a rotten no-good liar themself, but that doesn't mean they'd lie to their friends, or try to fuckin' gaslight them. The only thing here that they'd gaslight is well… the whole thing; and they'd do it literally.

"First of all, Malin is not an idiot—" Mozi tries to speak but Mal covers her mouth with their hand.

"Yes I am," they mouth. "But it's fine, continue."

She smiles at them then continues to rant. "Second, I don't know why you're trying to make this into a contest. I simply asked Malin if they were okay, and when they said they were bored, I tried asking questions to better understand what they're saying. Why is that such a big deal to you, and why are you calling us lazy when all you've done so far is sulk. At least the two of us actually did shit in the bloodbath besides starting fights that we lost."

"Please." Judas stands up, swinging his barstool so it falls to the ground and snaps. "Malin killed somebody who was injured and you Mozi, you killed a twelve-year old, you monster. I actually injured a Career, and at least my laziness is excused by the fact I'm injured."

"It was still a dumb injury that could've easily been avoided if it weren't for your temper," Mal mouths, opening their mouth in shock over the fact they actually "said" something remotely intelligent. "We're trying to not get worked up so early in the Games, even if I'm just as excited as you are to get to the action. We have food, and we have water and weapons. Trying to start problems is just going to get somebody killed."

Everything they're "saying" feels completely fake. Malin was born for chaos; Mal loves chaos. They're probably going to die one day for chaos, if they have it their way. For once though, their overbearing desire to be right about everything is actually doing good instead of harm.

"Maybe you'd like that," Judas sneers, grabbing a bag and walking towards the door. "That's it. I'm leaving. I'm done."

"Wait—" Before Mozi can run over to him, he's already gone. She turns around and glances at Mal, a dejected look on her face. "Did I say something wrong?"

Malin nods, moving their lips to say, "Not at all. He was just being a drama queen. I don't really understand what the big deal is."

"You said you were bored because we hadn't done much, and that's perfectly understandable." Mozi leans over on the counter to get closer to them. "I just don't really understand why Judas took such great offense to that."

Judas had been acting weird for a few days now as far as Mal could tell. They didn't really why though, since nothing about the dynamic of their alliance had changed. They know that he's always seen their gang as a business partnership as opposed to friendship with murderous benefits, but even business partners are supposed to look out for the needs of one another.

"I think he's jealous because you and I seem closer to one another than to him," they mouth. "Honestly, I could see why he'd hate that, but he's acting like we're about to betray him and leave him to the wolves at any moment."

Mozi giggles. "I mean—"

It's definitely something I've thought about, I won't lie. Mal chuckles at their own internal thoughts. It would be good enough payback for what Orsino did to me, and admittedly that's quite appealing to them. But, any revenge fantasies are moot now that Judas' gone and may not come back.

Malin raises a brow and mouths, "Go on; I'm listening."

"I think we're going to be going on a scavenger hunt today, my friend." Mozi puts her hands on her hips and smirks. "I'm not saying that we need to kill Judas or anything, but if he's with the two of us and somebody attacks, a scapegoat could be a valuable asset."

This feels mean, Mal thinks to themself. Should I really be channeling the man that ruined my whole ass life?

Well, the Hunger Games are for chaos, so maybe it's best they do.

It hasn't even been a day, and she's already certain that she's the arena's alpha. Beowulf's as pitiful as ever and Lethia's arm still hasn't healed itself from the incident with the other triad. Vancouver's two allies were never really a treat in her eyes, but now they've practically eliminated themselves from ever even slightly having a chance. Well… Lethia anyway. There was never a chance in hell that poor, pathetic, Beowulf Haleot, would actually be impressive in the arena.

Well, he did kill one person, but the whole thing clearly did a number on his psyche. Vancouver on the other hand, she killed two people, and two is always better and more impressive than just one.

Though her personal slaughterings definitely have left her more scared than she cares to admit. On their run over to the mausoleum where they've chosen to settle, Vancouver had to stop several times to push her hair out of her face and vomit. Her stomach still stirs whenever she looks down at her crimson-stained shirt, a reminded that she is, and always has been a monster.

She was reminded too when her eyes wandered to the blood pools left by her murders of the girl from Eleven and the boy from Three. When she looked down at the substance, Vancouver didn't see her own reflection, but instead her parents' visages, and in her ears rang their voices as they called out to her, "Please! You don't know what you're doing, honey."

When she looked at the bloodstains her own maneuvers had produced, Vancouver felt the same way she did as she watched the light leave her parents' eyes, like a monster. When she looks down at the mess she's made of her outfit, she feels like a vicious beast that deserves to be maimed. When she's forced to take in the woman she's become over the past twenty-four hours, Vancouver Easton feels like she's the devil.

She can't afford to feel that way.

And so, she turned around the mirrors, told Beowulf and Lethia, "We don't really need to see our bloodied faces, do we?" and that was that. She can't embody what she can't perceive, and therefore Vancouver is once again pure. Once again, she's savior Twelve deserves. And she's one step closer to bringing the crown back to the people she loves.

As the second morning in the arena turns to afternoon, her shift watching their base comes to an end. And thank the heavens for that, watching a cloud-covered field of gravestones and rotting trees is incredibly awful for her psyche. If she'd had the choice, Vancouver wouldn't have chosen to turn a mausoleum of all places into her alliance's shelter, but it was the first building they came across when running from the bloodbath, and Lethia needed somewhere to rest, quick. Considering Lethia's soon to be her prey, Vancouver was happy to oblige, even if she hates the place.

It's temporary though. It's just until they have enough stamina to go out hunting, since leaving Lethia alone would be irresponsible, or whatever. Good lord, I can't wait to leave this mess. She turns around back to the building when she sees Beowulf leaving, a spear in his hand and a nervous look on his face.

"You'll do great." Vancouver cracks a fake smile to soothe him. "If you get into any trouble, just holler, and I'll do my best to help you."

Beowulf nods. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

Vancouver continues her masquerade, pushing back the mausoleum's heavy wooden doors to find Lethia still at her desk where she left her, and still gritting her teeth together to mask her pain. She takes in the room's dreary essence, their weapons lining the walls, wooden accents, and a steal coffin in the back of the room. It reminds her of the Kingdom's dungeon, her palace of torture, but not in a way that's even slightly comforting. As lovely as the Capitol was, it hardly held a candle to her Kingdom, and oh how she yearns to once again sit on her throne. Only a matter of time, she reminds herself, pressing her lips into a line.

Part of her thinks it's hilarious how easily she could deceive the two of them right now. Theoretically, Lethia wouldn't be that hard to kill, and Beowulf remains well… himself after all. That's all hindsight, though. Vancouver knows that if she killed Lethia, the blood would render her nauseous, and that plus the fact that as pathetic as he is mentally, Beowulf is still a trained killing machine would mean she's done for. It's fun to think of all the ways these Games could possibly end, but perhaps it's too early for that since they've hardly just begun.

And so, she sits down at the chair opposite Lethia and rests her hands against the table. "How've you been?"

Though Vancouver's voice is sugary sweet, her ally doesn't seem all too enthused by it. "We need to talk," the One girl says, her brows furrowing.

"About what?" She tries to play innocent. Really though, Vancouver doesn't have a clue what Lethia could want to talk to her about. If she mentions going hunting, Vancouver'll just insist that they can't until her hand is healed, so that's completely rational.

Lethia frowns. "There's something about you that you're hiding."

"What do you mean?" She speaks calmly in response. Vancouver knows that Lethia's rather intelligent, but still she hasn't done anything to prove herself to be suspicious, at least as far as she's cognizant of.

"Well, you killed two people in the bloodbath, and you seemed pretty experienced with it," she says, matter-of-fact.

Ah yes, I suppose that would do it, Vancouver muses. But, she doesn't have time to get lost inside her mind, specially with the possibility of Lethia picking up on her deadly array of secrets. Well… nothing a little lie can't change. She nods as if she's dramatically soaking up Lethia's accusation. "That's true, I did. This is the Hunger Games, after all."

Unamused, Lethia speaks once more. "Yeah, it is, but most outliers wouldn't instantly know how to use a knife for murderous purposes. And they wouldn't seem so calm about it either. I'm well aware that both Sixes killed as well, but I'm currently less concerned about them, as you're the one I'm sleeping in the same room as."

"Knives are pretty easy, I thought. You just stab and run." Vancouver smirks, though she knows that Lethia isn't buying this. She knows that she needs to come up with more excuses. "But, you've got me. I have in fact had to kill somebody with a knife before—"

"Get out." Her ally stomps her foot. "I can't trust somebody who—"

"Let me explain, one second!" She interrupts her in return. "I had no choice, actually. Unlike you Careers who learn to kill for entertainment, I had to kill in order to survive. I was just minding my business in one of my warehouses, when somebody snuck up from behind and tried to attack me with a blowgun, probably because he wanted to steal my inventory, or something. All I had in my hand was a knife meant for cutting boxes, and well, when it's a matter of life or death, I guess I just figured it out. Well… not really, my form was bad. But it did the job well enough, and after the fact, I had one of my employees who'd worked as a hunter before teach me how to use a knife, just in case this situation happened again."

She feels successful in her lie, or at least, she does until Lethia responds. "Right, and then why didn't you tell Beowulf or I this previously? I told you that in the bloodbath, your priority was supplies, not killing, yet you still got more kills than each of us."

"I had to kill in order to get supplies." Vancouver attempts to rationalize. "And because I'm not trained to you and Beowulf's degree, I wanted to prove myself to still be a worthy ally. The reason I didn't tell you before that I'd killed a man, is honestly… I didn't think it would be such a big deal."

That and the fact I really didn't need to think about all the blood. She adds on.

Lethia still doesn't seem too convinced, which is… definitely a problem. "What can I say that'll make you trust me?"

She sits a while, lost in her own contemplation. When she finally speaks, she still seems discontent. "Nothing, Vancouver. Just… you can't be on watch on your own. I'm not sure I trust you not to kill Beowulf and I when we're sleeping."

"If I really was the threat you claim I am, why wouldn't I kill you now?" Vancouver argues, though she instantly regrets it.

"That's fair." Lethia nods her head. "I've just… I've already been betrayed by somebody close to me, and I don't want you to betray me too, especially when my life's involved."

"Understandable. I'll do whatever you want to help you feel safer."

This may be a setback, but Vancouver's still certain it won't be her doom. As a businesswoman, she knows how to make her people happy, and that means she'll please Lethia too, so long as she's able to step on her grave in the end.

LOL sorry that took a week besties… the excuse is that I'm lazy. Nah, really my brain was just oddly foggy this past week, but I'm happy to be back with another chapter for y'all right now. The dawn of Day 2 in the arena saw heaps of drama for our Tributes, so I'm curious to hear where y'all's heads are at. I'm done guessing when I'll update next, but hopefully I'll be back with the second half of Day 2 sooner rather than later.

Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds