Ifer Aigulle, 17.
District 8 Female.
"Ifer! Ifer ! What was Chardae's like? Chardae is your mother, right? What was it like working for her?"
Ifer ducked her head lower, pushing forward through the crowd of reporters. Despite the barricades separating them from the tributes trying to pass into the preparation building, the cameras and reporters still bore down upon them. The flashing lights of cameras, the yelling of everyone trying to get a piece of Ifer made her want to curl into a ball on the spot, hands over her ears until it all stopped. They didn't care about Ifer as a person. No, they just cared about her status: her name, where she came from, and who her mother was. And despite only having been in the Capitol for a few minutes, the Capitolites' aims were already painfully evident.
"Please back up so we can get through," Dee, her mentor, said, attempting to ward off the crowd, but her pleas were easily drowned out in the sea of noise. Ifer's grip on Calvin's shoulder tightened, the boy outwardly paler than usual, likely just as nervous as Ifer.
Another reporter called, "What will you do about people who might not like her? Do you think that will affect your experience here?"
Ifer froze. She had considered her mother's relative fame when she'd gotten reaped, but she'd never considered it might hinder her. What if people here didn't like her mother, and took it out on her? Or maybe they wouldn't like Ifer and it'd affect her mothers business. She wished Tove was here; she'd know just how to act and capture the attention of the masses. Or Sigrid, who was too genuine to ever screw anything like this up. Ifer could feel the deep, aching hole their absence left in her chest; they'd been together for seventeen years and now they'd been separated. Here, Ifer couldn't rely on the others. She'd have to do it on her own, and it was just the same for her sisters back home.
Ifer just hoped if she didn't make it home they'd learn to rely on each other without her binding them together.
"Didn't you hear the woman? Back the fuck off!" an unfamiliar voice cut through the chattering, shaking Ifer out of her thoughts. A shorter man shoved through the crowd, another taller boy with fiery red hair looming over his shoulder, "Have a little damn respect, huh? We've all got places to be, unlike you idiots."
"Thank you," Dee squeaked, pushing Ifer and Calvin towards the door. They hurried along, the crowd muttering amongst themselves but letting them pass without any trouble. As they passed through the door, two more Peacekeepers rushed past them to the outside.
"What was all that?" Ifer asked, turning to Dee as they entered the preparation center.
"I'm not sure, but I'm glad we got inside okay," Dee sighed, "I mean, I expected the Capitolites to be interested in you, with your mother being your mother, but I didn't think it'd be that bad."
"Yeah, I'm surprised they didn't have more 'Keepers out there," Calvin shrugged, as they passed through a second set of doors into the waiting room, finding an empty spot amongst the groups of tributes and mentors.
"Now what?"
"Now we wait until everyone gets here," Dee explained. "Then you'll be escorted to your rooms where you'll get ready for the parade."
"Mm," Ifer nodded, squinting as she surveyed the room. Including her and Calvin, there were about sixteen tributes who'd arrived already, many of whom she could recognize from the recaps they'd watched the day before. The Ones and Twos were standing in one corner, talking in hushed tones - well, save for the boy from One, who was talking rather loudly. waving his hands as he did so. A few other tributes stood out to Ifer: the tall boy from Seven, whose head almost hit the hanging light fixtures as he paced, the abnormally pale boy from Twelve, who stood huddled in a corner, looking around nervously , the confident-looking girl from Nine, who scanned the room with a confident eye. As Ifer attempted to avoid Nine's gaze, she noticed the doors swing open, as the man whom she'd seen just a few minutes before walked in, the tall boy still in tow.
"Dee, who are they?" Ifer muttered, pointing towards the pair.
"They're from Five," Dee replied, "I don't remember their names though."
"That's okay, don't worry about it," Ifer said quietly, keeping her eye on the men as they found a spot along the wall. She noticed that the boy was missing an arm, but even so, he seemed like he'd make a strong ally if she played her cards right. There was a part of Ifer that wanted to take some of the younger kids under her wing so badly, but she knew if she did, she wouldn't be able to protect them or herself. After all, it was rare the younger ones won, much less made it out of the bloodbath, and Ifer knew she needed competent people that would actually be able to help her last as long as they could.
As the last of the tributes spilled into the waiting room, the Peacekeepers they'd seen rushing out before pulled the doors closed and clicked some locks shut, trapping all of the tributes and mentors in the stark, pristine room together.
Twenty-four tributes, all in the same room for the first time. It only made everything feel that much more real; these were the people who could take Ifer's life, if she wasn't careful enough. They all had families back home, just like her, they had something to fight for, just like her, and yet she still had far more at stake, just like it'd always been.
She wouldn't let her mother down, her triplets down, her family down. Not now.
Not ever.
Tarni Villemont, 18.
District 4 Female.
"What do you think of that?" Diana asked, stepping back from Tarni, her hands still held aloft. "I think it looks very nice, if I do say so myself."
Tarni stepped off of the pedestal she'd been standing on for what felt like days, turning to the nearby mirror. She was draped in deep purple and blue cloth that branched off into several portions at the bottom, swirling around her feet with each step. There was glittering silver decorating her hair, neck, and wrists, metal clinking against metal as she moved her arms.
"What's it supposed to be?" Tarni asked, spinning around in the mirror.
"One of those deep sea squids. See how the bottom splits off like tentacles?"
"Yeah, I do," Tarni nodded. It was an interesting costume for sure, but there were far worse things she could've been. One year the Four's had been sent out in net costumes that left little to the imagination. Admittedly, Tarni wouldn't have minded - it certainly left an impression - but this was far nicer, and hopefully would still have the same flair and effect without Tarni having to bare as much.
At least, if it didn't prove to have sufficient flair, Tarni would make up for it herself.
"Okay, okay, let's get going now, we don't want to be late," Diana muttered, ushering Tarni out the door, after adjusting her jewelry one more time. "Besides that, you probably want a chance to talk to the others."
Tarni nodded, as she did in fact want a chance to talk to the others. The Fours had arrived dead last, meaning that the Ones and Two's had already gotten a chance to interact without them. That wasn't exactly ideal in her opinion; she would have much rather been there for the first conversation so that she'd know first-hand if things went badly. But Tarni would have to make do with whatever state the pack was in, which she was going to find out soon enough.
As they turned a corner, Tarni's heels clicking against the cold, stone floor. Diana pushed open a large door at the end of the hallway. A wave of sticky heat washing over Tarni as she stepped into the large hangar. The ceiling stretched far overhead, every word spoken in the large room echoing throughout, cut through by the occasional stomping and whinnying of the horses. Diana led Tarni through the hangar, weaving around tributes, stylists, mentors, and horses, until they reached a deep blue chariot.
"Okay, this is your stop," Diana said, gesturing to the chariot looming to their left. "Hopefully your partner will be here soon. I'm gonna go say hi to your mentors, so just let me know if you need anything, okay?"
"Alright, thank you," Tarni replied, feeling relatively unconcerned with what her stylist was doing. She was much more interested in the other Careers. Sure, she'd seen them in the Recaps and the like, but this would be her first chance to really see what they were made of.
And easily enough, they'd present themselves to Tarni.
"Hey, Four!" a familiar voice called. Tarni turned around to see the boy she recognized to be from One sauntering her way. He was clad in a pair of dark pants, as well as a loose fitting shirt with flowing sleeves, the buttons of which had been left unbuttoned, revealing his rather chiseled chest. The shirt seemed to be a shifting painting of the night sky; every time he moved, it moved with him.
"Chiffon, right?" Tarni replied, "I'm Tarni."
"Nice to meet you," Chiffon grinned, shaking her hand, "We're gathering up by the Two chariot if you wanna come talk."
"Of course," Tarni nodded, letting him lead her to the others. Chiffon didn't seem to be taking himself very seriously; instead, he seemed unreasonably at ease. He had a certain air of confidence to him that Tarni didn't mind - many Careers were like that, after all - but his laid-back nature would make him that much easier to mess with. Sure, they were there to win, all of them were, but that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun along the way to her victory.
As they approached, Tarni got her first glimpse of the two other Careers standing around the chariot. The Two girl was clad in form fitting white armour, reminiscent of the Peacekeepers who watched over their country, Mystic, the girl from One, was dressed similarly to Chiffon, although in a flowing dress rather than a shirt.
"Oh, there's more of you here then I thought there would be. I'm Tarni."
"Claudia," the Two girl said, raising an eyebrow at her, "You're late, aren't you?"
"Can't be late if I don't have control of when I get here," Tarni shrugged.
"I'm Mystic, it's nice to meet you," Mystic smiled, cutting off Claudia as she offered Tarni her hand.
"Nice to meet you too," Tarni grinned, shaking the girl's hand, finding that Mystic's hand was covered in smooth fabric instead of skin. Her hands were clad in long, black gloves that stretched up to her elbows, shining white gems and streaks of purple and blue running throughout the fabric reminiscent of the night sky.
"I like your outfit," Mystic added, smiling politely, as the others settled into their spots in the circle once again. The others seemed nice enough so far, but Tarni knew there was more beneath the surface - there always was. Despite all the niceties, they'd be at each other's throats soon enough.
No, nothing this nice could ever last.
"I hope the others get here soon," Chiffon said, seemingly talking to himself more than anybody in particular.
"Mm, if they aren't here soon they'll miss the parade," Claudia sighed. "Although, I wouldn't mind going out there on my own."
"Really? I'm petrified. There's so many people out there," Mystic chimed in, wringing her hands. As the conversation paused for a moment, Tarni could hear the distant roar of the crowd; the walls blocked out most of the sound, but it was a persistent noise that couldn't be stopped.
"Ah, don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you," Chiffon laughed, clapping Mystic's shoulder. As she gently pushed his hand off, a look of disgust flashed across her face before it returned to its consistent neutral expression.
"It'll be fine. I mean, we're gonna be killing people on TV for their entertainment soon enough, right?" Tarni said, the others nodding their heads in agreement as another boy stormed into the circle.
"Good, you did show up. I wasn't sure you would," Claudia scoffed. The boy - Reign, if Tarni remembered his name correctly - was dressed similarly to Claudia, coated in shining white armour that would likely be useless in the event of an actual attack.
"Where else would I be?" Reign grumbled. "I'm Reign."
After the Careers introduced themselves again, Mystic asked, "So, who's gonna lead? It's not like we've gotta decide tonight, but I think it'd be good to start discussing at least."
"Well, we should probably have everyone here to do that, right?" Reign grumbled, gesturing to Tarni. "But, I wouldn't be opposed to taking the job myself if nobody else wanted to do it."
"Whoever said anything about leading?" Dean panted, pushing into the group, nearly falling into Claudia in the process, "Oh, I'm sorry."
Dean's apology only earned him a glare from Claudia as she turned to the reflective surface of the chariot next to her, righting the three hairs that had been knocked out of place.
"Well, we were just trying to figure out if we're gonna even have a leader," Mystic said, "But, it seems like there's only one person actually interested."
"Who?"
"Me," Reign said, raising a hand.
"I see," Dean nodded, furrowing his brow as he thought. "Oh, I'm Dean, it's nice to meet you all."
As they finished introducing themselves yet again, to the frustration of both Claudia and Tarni, a loud buzzer rang out through the speakers around the hangar, notifying them they had five minutes to return to their chariots.
"We can figure this out later. We'd better get going," Dean said, waving towards Tarni.
"Yeah, maybe after the parades!" Mystic agreed, "Get going before you're late!"
With that, the Fours departed, Dean muttering to himself as they walked away. When they reached their chariot, Dean helped Tarni up before mounting himself, apologizing once again for his lateness. Tarni accepted his apology, but quickly turned the subject back to the other Careers.
"So, what do you think of them? They're certainly… interesting."
"Interesting? Yes, I suppose."
"If you're gonna make a bid for leader you should know something."
"What's that?"
"I can't guarantee I'll be able to stick with you all the way through the Games. But I'll put my support behind you if it comes to it."
"Fours stick together, right?"
"We sure do," Tarni laughed, as the chariot began to pull forward. Fours did stick together, so long as she deemed it to be worth it.
Carter Feldman, 18.
District 10 Male.
"You alright?" Bo asked, taking note of Carter's knuckles whitening against the edge of the chariot as he clutched it like a lifeline.
"Fine, it's fine," Carter replied as they followed the Nines out of the hangar. Carter knew this would happen, knew he'd have to be put in front of a crowd like this, but it didn't feel real until he was facing it himself. He wasn't meant for the Capitol, or the Games, but then again who really was? Nobody, except maybe the Careers, but they were different.
Carter just wanted to go home. He was so far from home, further then he'd ever thought he'd go. Carter didn't want to win, didn't want to face row upon row of people, hanging onto his every word, every move. He just wanted his peaceful life, his unassuming existence. Yet he could never go back to that, at least not as the same Carter he was before.
"You're awfully pale, don't you dare throw up on me," Bo grunted, as the chariot emerged from the hangar, the cheering throng coming into view. Bo waved and smiled at the people that stared down at them, and yet Carter couldn't bring himself to unclench his hands, nor to remove his eyes from the distant spot they'd locked onto. He'd never been particularly fearful, but he could feel the pit of dread that had formed knots in his stomach taking hold of him for what felt like the first time in his life. But Carter had to be strong for his siblings who he knew were eagerly crowded around the old TV in their living room, wrapped in the blankets Ma had knitted. He wondered how they were doing, without him to help out on the farm. Was Buck watering the cows, avoiding the bull's field just like he always told him to? Was Juniper helping him, like she promised she would? What about his mother, was she okay?
He just had to hope they were all right.
Carter peeled one of his hands off the edge of the chariot, beginning to feebly wave, although his eyes never left the spot in the horizon. The gleaming lights that shone down upon them combined with the overwhelming tidal wave of sound that hit him were more than enough to overwhelm him entirely. But Carter had to try his best for his parents, for his siblings, for himself, even if that meant something as simple as waving at a crowd.
Their chariot pulled up to the end of the road, the twelve chariots encircling a large fountain in front of the President's home, the President herself watching from a balcony high above them. His hand fell as Snow began to talk, spewing falsely inspirational words about hope and sacrifices and the bravery of the tributes that Carter could barely process. As the anthem played, they turned away, entering another hangar similar to the one they'd come from. The chariot rolled to a stop, Carter letting out a deep sigh of relief.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Bo grinned, hiking her long dress up as she hopped off the chariot.
"Naw, it was pretty bad, but it was quicker then I thought it'd be," Carter replied shakily, clambering his way off the back of the chariot as fast as he could.
"You guys did so good!" his mentor, Danzig, shouted, as he approached the pair, steadying Carter with a hand. "I mean, I knew you would, but still!"
"Er… thanks?"
"Of course, of course, we should get going," Danzig said, beginning to steer them towards the elevators. Carter managed to get a quick thank you pet in for the horses before being ushered away.
"Where are we going now?" Bo asked as their other mentor Heidi joined them, pushing her way through the crowds.
"We're gonna go up to our apartment. I want to try and get an elevator as fast as possible," Danzig explained, nearly bumping into one of the other groups of people.
"How 'bout we slow down a smidge, Ziggs? We don't wanna run anybody over," Heidi laughed as they approached the banks of elevator doors, taking their place next to another group, evidently from District Eight. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, though the boy, who seemed to be about the same age as Carter's brother, stood quietly off to the side. No tribute deserved such a fate as the Games, but Carter's heart softened more for the younger ones.
His eyes lingered on the younger boy that suddenly reminded him of Buck, and he had to swallow down a wave of sadness that overcame him. He didn't know what he'd do if one of his siblings had to go into the Games, especially if they didn't have anybody to help guide them or protect them. They'd be vulnerable to the whims of other tributes, without Carter there to stand up for them when it mattered.
As one of the sets of doors slid open, Danzig ushered his tributes in, the Eights following close behind. Danzig mashed the button labelled ten, as well as the eight button, earning him a grin and a thumbs up from one of the Eight mentors.
"So, training starts tomorrow, right?" Bo asked, turning to Heidi.
"It sure does, yeah. Three days of that, then evaluations, the party and interviews and then… into the arena," Heidi nodded. "Y'all are here for seven days."
"Only seven days?" Bo muttered.
"It seems like we should be here longer," Carter agreed.
"Mmm, really? It feels like it should be less," The boy from across the car chimed in, "Just a thought, though." His emotionless tone was so different from Buck's, but there was still something about the boy that reminded Carter of his brother.
"Don't you worry, it always feels like less because of how much stuff we have to do," Danzig said.
A moment later, the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. The Eights departed, Danzig waving at the mentors as they left. Carter couldn't help but watch the boy's figure retreat into the apartment as the elevator doors slid shut. He couldn't protect all of the kids from the horrors of the Arena, but maybe he could find a way to protect one of them, like the boy from Eight.
For his siblings, it was the least he could do.
M'Pingo "Ping" Appara, 18.
District 3 Female.
No matter what she tried, no matter how much she tossed and turned, Ping couldn't seem to find the comforting grasp of sleep. It wasn't just the twinkling Capitol lights that kept her awake, even though they were bright enough that the light in her room felt more dusky than anything else. Rather, every time she closed her eyes, all she could see were the faces of her friends, long gone and yet still with her at every turn. They'd died for this Capitol she now stood in, and yet the lives of a few more children meant nothing to them, as they killed twenty three more every year. She wished she'd known that years ago, and yet here she was, discarded by those that used her for so many years like trash.
Ping sighed, rolling out of bed, sick of being in her own head. Despite the comfort of the bed, the warmth of the blankets calling to her, she couldn't stay there a minute longer. Gently pushing her door open, she could hear the quiet snoring of Cecil through his partially cracked door. He was a decent enough kid, although Ping was certainly steering clear of him after what he'd done to his hands; she'd heard his rage through the walls of the Justice Building as she tried to tell her friends goodbye. Ping had never found such anger beneficial, as it tended to just blind people, especially with people like Cecil. But he was his own responsibility, not Ping's, and thus not her problem, unless he decided to make himself a problem to her.
With a sigh, Ping padded deeper into the apartment, the chill of the stone floor seeping through her socks. She never thought she'd really be able to volunteer, but here she was. She wouldn't be stuck in that horrible, smoggy Three anymore, she was free of the shackles of that place, even if just for a moment, before the Arena captured her again.
But now, Ping would have the chance to make it home to Eleven, to her sisters and her family and their orchard. It was all she'd dreamt of, for years since she'd left; she'd kept that place, bathed in golden light, the smell of fresh fruit and flowers in her mind every day and night. Through all of the misery of the experiments, through watching her friends die, through everything, her memories of home were what had kept her going.
And now, it could be a reality once again.
Ping rounded the corner into the kitchen, pulling a cup from one of the cupboards and filling it up with water from the sink As she perched on the counter, glass in hand, Ping spotted light spilling from one of the rooms down the hall. The door was cracked open slightly, the quiet chatter of voices barely audible if she listened hard enough. There were only four of them in the apartment, and Ping knew Cecil was asleep, so it must've been their mentors. Ping was curious what they were doing up so late, so she snuck up to the crack in the door, standing with her back flush against the wall.
"We've gotta be… careful about that, you know?" Eliott said softly, "I mean, I doubt she'll try anything, but…"
"We're sticking our necks out, yes," Penny replied, quiet notes of worry evident in her voice.
"They shouldn't blame us for what she says. It's bullshit."
"I know, dear, but we're her mentors. They're our charges so long as we're here, it only makes sense we'd be held responsible for her words - or, if it comes to it, actions."
"Well, we should talk to her about it then."
"We should, yes, but not tonight."
As Penny spoke, Ping could see the shadows of somebody moving, their outline dancing along the wall as they approached the door. She recoiled, pushing herself flatter against the wall as Penny spoke again.
"We should get some rest."
"Mm, you're right. I'll see you tomorrow," Elliot sighed, but Ping barely heard it, as she was already retreating back to her room. As she darted through her open door, carefully pushing it closed behind her, she heard footsteps outside growing closer before eventually fading off.
They knew.
They knew who - no, what she was. Of course they did. The Capitol was the one to do this to her in the first place; they'd be stupid not to tell her mentors, who were now they were being threatened because of what Ping might say She'd been trying to keep her head down, but now she had even more pressure to do so.
It was just like Two all over again.
Maybe volunteering had been a mistake. Maybe she should've just figured out how to get to Eleven without volunteering. Sure, her life would still be on the line, but nobody else's would be. But she'd already made her choice to volunteer; there was no going back now. Ping would just have to do her best, with what she was given; she'd stay proud, just like her mother always told her, and keep her head held high, no matter the cost. She couldn't let her family nor her mentors down now.
Ping slipped back into her bed, curling her toes into the sheets. She repeated her mother's words in her head, the gentle singing of her mother and sisters keeping her company as she fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep.
