Mystic Hannemann, 18.
District 1 Female.
"So, let me get this straight. You want to bring this kid into the Careers?" Reign said, leaning forward on his hands.
"I've been watching him train. He's young but he's good, and I think he could be helpful to us," Dean replied in low tones.
"And he's from Three? Where did he learn to fight?" Mystic chimed in. People training in Districts outside of One, Two and Four wasn't unheard of, but he was only fifteen. If he was trying to win the Games he should've waited until he was 18, but he didn't.
"Well, I don't know, but he's good. And just think about it - if we get him to join us, that's one less threat for us to worry about in the Arena," Dean continued, waving his hands as he talked.
"How about we bring him in for a day, see how he fares, and if we don't think he's good enough just get rid of him. Like a trial run," Chiffon suggested. "That way we can gauge if he's a threat or not, and if he is we can… just get rid of him."
"I can get behind that," Mystic nodded towards her District partner. The rest of the Careers grumbled their agreement, save for Claudia, who was still obviously annoyed over her loss to Chiffon. Mystic couldn't really understand why she was so bothered about it; after all, nobody could shape up to Mystic or Chiffon. Mystic didn't know why Claudia had even tried, but she had, and she'd been put in her place, simple as that.
"Okay, I'll get him," Dean grinned, springing up from his seat and making his way over to the boy. The Careers looked on curiously as they exchanged words, Dean eventually leading him over with a hand on his shoulder.
"Okay, everybody, meet Cecil," Dean grinned, hand remaining on the boy's shoulder, "Cecil, this is everybody."
"Uh… Hi?" Cecil said, a slight tremor to his voice as he looked around the group. He didn't seem like much, but Mystic knew better than to underestimate people. After all, she hadn't considered Chiffon to be capable of much, and she was very much wrong about that.
Mystic wasn't used to being wrong, but it seemed like at every turn she was making mistakes, her judgement failing her at the worst of times. But she couldn't let that continue; she was a Hannemann and she couldn't afford to be wrong. One slip up, one mistake could condemn the Hannemann name, and the last thing she wanted to do was let her mother and father down. They'd given her the world on a silver platter, and she had to make the most of that now by winning, so she could pay them back.
"We've agreed to let you train with us for a day or two, and then we'll decide if we're gonna let you in, if that's okay," Dean said.
"Oh- okay, yeah, that's fine," Cecil stuttered, still looking somewhat awestruck of the situation presented to him. There were what seemed like old cuts across the backs of his hands and knuckles, still raised and ugly red but on their way to healing. They reminded Mystic much of what her own hands looked like after training, the hands she kept covered as they were just another sign of the imperfection she tried so desperately to scrub from her mind.
"You can stick with Dean, since you already know him," Reign sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. There was something… off about the District Two boy, something that Mystic couldn't quite put her finger on. It seemed as if his mind was elsewhere, focused on some other topic or goal, which Mystic didn't entirely understand. If Reign was anything like the rest of them, he'd have trained his whole life to be here. So where else could his attention be? Certainly there was nothing else more important than this, the thing they'd strived their whole lives for? And if there was something else for Reign, why had he been chosen by Two to be here? Mystic didn't know, and despite wanting to know the answers, she wouldn't push. After all, that wouldn't be very ladylike of her; Mystic had manners, unlike some of the others.
"I'll see you around then," Chiffon said loudly in her ear, slapping her on the shoulder, "Unfortunately, I want to see what the kid can do, so good luck out there without me."
"I'll be plenty fine, thank you," Mystic replied, removing his hand from her shoulder. Chiffon laughed, making his way out of the cafeteria alongside Dean and Cecil.
"Now what?" Claudia asked, turning to the others. "I mean do we have plans outside of… whatever that is?"
"Nope, do whatever the hell you want," Reign growled, departing from the table himself, "I'll see you all later."
"He's certainly cheerful, isn't he?" Tarni snorted, nudging Claudia (who didn't move a muscle) in the side before turning to Mystic. "I guess that just leaves us… and her."
"Yeah. Do you want to train together?" Mystic asked.
"Sure. I've been eyeing the obstacle course; do you maybe want to try that?"
"Yeah, that sounds good. See you around, Claudia!" Claudia nodded sharply once as Tarni and Mystic left the table.
Mystic wasn't really sure what to think of this whole thing. She'd had certain expectations about being in the Career pack, and they were not at all like what ended up happening. No matter how hard they tried to compromise, it seemed like the Careers could never get along or agree on anything. It didn't seem like things would go well in the Arena, but at least Mystic knew she could rely on herself. In the end, she was the only one who could get herself to the finish line, and she couldn't rely on anybody else to do it.
But it couldn't hurt to pick up some people Mystic could use as a springboard to get herself there. And that would start with Tarni, it seemed, as they'd spent the majority of the morning together. She seemed easy going enough and less prone to the bickering of the others, both of which were traits that Mystic appreciated immensely.
"So what do you think of all their… fighting?" Tarni asked as they approached the obstacle course. It was currently occupied by the girl from Eight, accompanied by the boys from Five and Eleven, who sat nearby watching her.
"Hmm… It wasn't what I was expecting," Mystic replied, as they took their places on the bench, waiting for their turns, "But, I mean it's not like everyone can get along all of the time."
"That's true; the idea of a Career pack is pretty flawed. Which is why I'd like to strike you a deal."
"A deal? What kind of deal?"
"I propose that if anything goes wrong, we stick together. At this rate we'll all be broken up by the time the bloodbath ends, and I don't exactly trust any of the others. You just seem like the most competent."
"So, if the others break up, we'll stick together? That's what you want?" Mystic said, brow furrowing. She could see why Tarni would pick her out of any of the others, as it seemed groups within the group were already beginning to form, but she couldn't help but feel a little bad, especially in leaving Chiffon out. Sure, he could be annoying, and he got on her nerves regularly, but he was talented and it would look better for their District if they stuck together. Mystic figured she could ask Ellie for advice, but she didn't want to do that unless she had to. But the more she thought about it, the more strongly Mystic felt that she would much rather go with Tarni than any of the others.
"Yeah, I think we'd make a great pair. What do you say?"
"I think… I think it's a good idea. Allies," Mystic said, holding her hand out to shake. Tarni took it, shaking it firmly.
"Oh, it looks like Eight is done. Do you want to go, or should I?" Mystic asked, pulling herself to her feet.
"Oh, no, you can go first," Tarni replied, raising an eyebrow at her. "Good luck."
"I won't need it, but thanks," Mystic grinned, making her way to the start of the course.
Mystic wouldn't let herself slip up now. She'd be as good as ever despite the cracks that formed, and she'd win the Games to prove it.
Calvin Kadkhodaian, 15.
District 8 Male.
Calvin gritted his teeth, watching as the plants and berries he'd been trying to sort scattered once again across the screen before him. He was never very good at sorting and identifying plants; he much preferred to just draw them. Somehow, capturing them on paper was much easier than trying to tell them apart. Sighing, Calvin turned the monitor off, waving to the trainer that manned the station as he departed. He'd considered going to see what weapons there were available, but the Careers had seemingly taken over most of the fighting rings. Unsurprisingly, none of the outer District kids had worked up the nerve to train alongside the Careers, so they stuck to the survival stations, keeping their eye on the strongest tributes..
Sighing, Calvin looked around the vast training room. There were plenty of options, yes, just nothing that particularly caught his eye. Being here, without structure or routine, was strange for Calvin; in an instant, his set daily routine had been broken, thrusting him into the world of chaos and violence of the Games.
Calvin didn't want to die, but here in the Games, it was most likely that he would. And there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
Nothing he could do, except prepare for the worst.
Jerking him out of his thoughts, Calvin bumped into… something. He looked up to see he'd walked into the side of the boy from Ten, the number emblazoned on his sleeve level with Calvin's face. "Oh, sorry about that," Calvin muttered, stumbling back a few steps before righting himself.
"Don't worry 'bout it," Ten replied. "I'm Carter, I've been meaning to introduce myself."
"Calvin," Calvin replied, offering a hand to Carter, which the other boy shook firmly. His hands were rough, rougher than Calvin was expecting, reminding him of his friend's parents who worked long hours in the factories of Eight.
"So, you're pretty good at the whole painting thing, aren't you? I saw you over at that station this morning," Carter drawled, pointing past the training Careers to the camouflage station he'd started at that morning. Painting was never his favourite medium, but it was something he was familiar with at least, in this place of unfamiliarity.
"Um… thanks? I mean, I'm not the best, but I like it," Calvin stuttered. "It seems you're doing well enough for yourself. I mean, you've got a fire going."
Carter laughed, looking down at the small fire that crackled before him. "I guess I ain't doin' too bad. It's just lonely trainin' on my own."
"Huh, it seems like it, yeah," Calvin nodded. The station was completely void of anybody other than Carter. With the first day of training coming to a close, most people had seemingly already begun to pack their things up, and Calvin couldn't help but feel like he'd wasted it.
And wasting time wasn't something Calvin could afford here.
"Well, I best be going then," Calvin said. "I mean, the day's over practically."
"Mm, you're right. Would you mind giving me a hand cleaning this up?" Carter asked, gesturing to the extra supplies he hadn't used, then to the nearby bins full of wood and kindlings of various types. "They go over there, if you could put them away."
Calvin nodded, collecting the stray sticks and logs and carefully sorting them out. As he did, he couldn't help but wonder why Carter was so interested in talking to him. Was it because he wanted to ally with him? Or because he was trying to get in his head? Calvin didn't know, but as the Ten boy seemed nice enough, he hoped it was the former.
Maybe Calvin would find an unexpected friend amongst the sea of opponents.
"Do you wanna take the elevator back together? I mean, we're going to close enough floors, right? Eight and Ten," Calvin asked as he returned to Carter, the smoking remains of the now waterlogged fire on the floor before them.
"Yeah, I wouldn't mind," Carter nodded, as they departed the fire making station.
"So, are you looking for allies?" Calvin asked as they walked. "You don't have to answer if you don't want but…"
"Allies? Yeah, I guess. I'm not exactly lookin' more… seeing what comes my way, yanno?"
"Mm, that makes sense. I think I'm gonna do the same."
The pair went silent for a moment as they stood before the banks of elevator doors, Calvin rubbing his hands together. His mentor had told him to be on the lookout for allies, but Calvin saw no reason to trust anybody. After all, any one of the tributes here could be the one to end him.
And yet, he couldn't help but want to trust Carter.
"There's an opening, c'mon," Carter said, gesturing for Calvin to follow him. He couldn't see very well through the crowds of tributes and trainers, most of them taller than him, but Carter navigated them both to an elevator easily enough.
"Umm… would ya maybe like to train with me tomorrow?" Carter asked as the elevator doors slid closed, pressing the buttons for their floors. "You don't have to answer now, but I figured you might like some company."
"Company? Uh… I mean... " Calvin trailed off. He wasn't asking to be allies; Carter just wanted to train with him. It couldn't hurt, especially as it seemed like he knew plenty of things Calvin had no clue about.
Maybe they'd be able to teach each other something.
"Like I said, you don't gotta answer now. Just come an' find me tomorrow if you wanna,'' Carter smiled as the elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal the eighth floor.
"I'll see you then," Calvin nodded, as he stepped out of the elevator. The last thing he saw was a smile from Carter before the doors closed again.
Maybe things wouldn't be so bad for Calvin.
Verity Blanche, 18.
District 6 Female.
Verity Blanche had always been second. To her parents, to Annora, to everyone her parents deemed "important" enough for her to associate with. They'd always been in awe of Annora and how kind and proper she was. Verity tried to be kind and proper too, but no matter how hard she tried, she could never get it right. And so she stopped trying. Verity had given up the notion of being a perfect daughter, and even though it landed her in trouble again and again with her father, she didn't mind so much.
What she'd never expected was to be chosen by Diesel Malstrom. Verity's name had been called, and before she knew it, he was standing by her side like some sort of angel. She didn't want him to die; she was worried enough that he was risking his life to be there with her. But there he was, and there was no reversing his decision. So, she'd make the most of what time she had with him.
After all, who knew if they'd been able to find each other again without the Games?
"We're almost done for the day, so we should probably start packing up," Verity called, screwing her face up as she attempted to tie the uncooperative fishing string to the hook. It was hard enough due to the thinness of the fishing line, but the fact it was clear only made it harder, though nothing was as bad as trying to thread a needle while sewing. Her mother had tried to teach her how, but she'd never been able to do it.
"Done? For the day?" Diesel replied from somewhere behind her. "It's that late already?"
"Yeah, that's what the clock over there says."
"Okay!" Diesel chirped. Verity dropped the hook with a sigh of frustration. She couldn't get it today, but maybe she could tomorrow, or the day after that. She'd get it in the end though; like a mystery, it wouldn't be satisfying otherwise. That was why she always finished every book she started, because even if it wasn't good, it was more satisfying to see how it ended than to leave it unfinished.
As she placed her supplies back into the box, Verity heard the sound of metal clanking against metal. She looked up and almost immediately had to do a double-take.
"Diesel! What did you do?"
"What do you mean, what did I do?"
"Did you put fish hooks into your face?"
"...Maybe. Is there something wrong with that? I can take them out if it's a problem," Diesel said, eyes going wide.
"I mean, you don't have to, it's just... they might not be sterile," Verity replied, reaching up to brush the hair from his face as she inspected his new piercings. Diesel tensed up a hair, but relaxed at the softness of Verity's touch.
"I- um. Well, I've been doing it for years and I've never had any problems," Diesel mumbled.
After a cursory analysis, Verity determined that the piercings seemed to be fine, and it would probably be safer to just leave them where they were, rather than trying to remove them. "It's probably okay. I just don't want you to get hurt, all right? So if anything feels weird, just tell me, yeah?"
"Yeah," Diesel nodded vigorously, in agreement.
"Pack it up you two, it's time to go," a trainer called to them from across the floor. Verity scrambled to help put away all of the parts Diesel had been messing with. It looked like he'd been trying to build some sort of trap that would catch and hold somebody, but it was only half finished.
"Do you want to come back here tomorrow?" Verity asked as they placed the remaining parts away, wiping the grease that clung to her hands off on her pants.
"I mean. If uh... if you want to, I'd be happy," Diesel nodded, smiling. One thing Verity remembered about him from before, that day where they'd sat and watched her family's car be repaired, was that he never spoke with much confidence. That had apparently not changed, although Verity found it to be endearing in a way. He was a good listener, far better at listening than conversat, which she wasn't used to. Sure, Gideon would listen to her, but he'd often interrupt, going on tangents of his own. While Verity missed Gideon's boisterous nature, it was nice to be able to talk without interruption.
The pair made their way towards the elevators, where many of the other tributes were clustered. There were eight elevator doors, and twenty four of them, so Verity figured they all couldn't go at once.
"Guess we'll have to wait," Verity murmured as they came to a stop. Diesel nodded, leaning against the nearby wall. She stayed near his side, watching the various tributes pass them onto the elevators. Verity wondered where they'd all come from, what kind of lives they led, what kind of people they were and what they'd become. All of them in the end would succumb to the Arena in one way or another, becoming either monsters or victims, and Verity didn't wish either fate on anybody.
At least their deaths wouldn't be mysteries. Their families would have them ripped away with little second thought, but at least they would have closure. It made Verity's heart ache deep in her chest- for those families who got closure, there was no mystery, no hope that justice would come. No, they would just receive a coffin and the remains of a daughter or a son, a friend, a loved one gone from the world.
"You alright?" Diesel mumbled softly, brushing a hand over Verity's shoulder.
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, just thinking," Verity smiled in response.
"Um, it looks like there's an open elevator there." Diesel gestured to one nearby. Most of the other tributes had already left, the few remaining talking amongst themselves, none of them taking any notice of the vacant elevator.
"Alright, it's ours then!" Verity grinned, grabbing Diesel by the arm and dragging him to the elevator, her partner ducking just in time to not hit his head on the door frame. Verity mashed the button labeled 'six' several times as if that would make the doors close any faster.
"When we get back up to our floor there's uh... something I found, that I'd like to show you."
"Show me? Show me what? Can I know?"
"Hold your horses, we'll be back soon." Diesel cracked a grin. "Besides, it's supposed to be a surprise."
"I know, but still," Verity sighed. She'd never been very good at surprises; whenever given the chance, she'd ruin them for herself or figure them out beforehand, leaving little to be desired to the actual surprise. But this one stumped Verity, as what could Diesel have to surprise her with? It wasn't like he could've found something in their District's apartment; she'd already found and explored every room.
The elevator slowed to a stop, doors sliding open to reveal their apartment. "This way," Diesel said, gesturing as they stepped out of the elevator. The apartment was empty for the moment, their footsteps echoing on the polished floor as Diesel led her towards their rooms.
"Am I allowed to... go in there?" Verity paused at the door, thinking back to the times she'd snuck into Charlotte's room or that Charlotte had snuck into hers, sometimes just barely escaping the watchful eye of her father.
"I mean… I don't know why you wouldn't be," Diesel said. "I could... um, just go get it then."
"Eh, it's fine. We just won't get caught right?"
"Right."
Diesel pushed the door open, and Verity followed after him into the dimly lit room. The bed seemed relatively untouched, save for the pillows which were flat out missing from the bed. She watched as Diesel made his way to the desk, which he had pushed into one of the corners. Covering its surface was a collection of metallic parts, screws, nails and springs, things Verity couldn't even begin to name, although she recognized some of them to be similar to the things her father's companies manufactured.
"Where did you get all this from?" Verity asked, flicking the lamp on the table to see better.
"I mean... Some of it I had with me, and some of it I uh…" Diesel trailed off before muttering. "Found?"
"Found?"
"Yeah... found. Or borrowed, I guess," Diesel mumbled, casting his eyes to the floor, but not before Verity caught sight of the blush creeping across his face.
"Borrowed works," Verity nodded, scanning the rest of the room. As she did, she realized the distinct lack of electronic items: the clock from the bedside table was missing, alongside a few of the extra lamps and the small radio they'd been provided.
"So what are you doing with all of it?"
"I don't uh… really know what I'm doing with it. It's mostly just to keep me busy, but… I did make you this," Diesel murmured, holding his hands out to her. He opened them to reveal a small, ornately carved box; she vaguely recognized it to be a decoration from one of the rooms of the train.
"What is it?" Verity asked, turning it around in her hand. There was a small crank sticking out of one side.
"Turn that crank and find out," Diesel replied.
Verity did as she was instructed, turning the small crank between her fingers, and as she did a soft melody emitted from the box. She recognized it as something Annora and Mother would often play on the piano together, the music drifting upstairs to reach her as she searched through her father's old files. The tune had followed her through life, Charlotte having played it for her on her guitar as they did "homework", and again it found her here.
"Did you... build this?" Verity gasped, furrowing her eyebrows at the small box.
"I- well yes, if you don't like it I could-"
"No, no, I love it," Verity yelped, flinging her arms around Diesel's neck. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch before leaning into her, arms wrapping around her back tightly, his face sinking into her shoulder. His touch felt soothing, something Verity desperately needed after the chaos that was the past few days. She didn't want to move from the safety of his embrace, so similar to how Gideon felt safe and familiar - but this was different because this was Diesel.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I should've asked-" Verity mumbled, pulling back with her arms still clasped around his neck.
"Oh- uh… N-no, don't worry about it," Diesel stuttered bashfully, eyes going wide as he removed his arms from her waist. Verity released her grip on Diesel, cradling the little music box in her hands again.
"I'm glad you like it," Diesel smiled. "That's um, all I had but…"
"No, really it's perfect, you didn't have to do this," Verity grinned, pausing for a moment, "Could you... show me how it works?"
"Like, show you how I made it?" Diesel asked. "I mean, I could, but I doubt I have the right stuff to build another one."
"Hold that thought!" Verity yelled. There were plenty more things in her room she could offer up; after all she was incredibly curious to see how Diesel managed to put something so complicated together in just a few days. She'd never understood how mechanical parts worked, but if there was ever a time to learn, it was now, and it would let her spend more time with Diesel, an added bonus.
Verity burst into her room, collecting every item she possibly could: the clock from her bedside table, the small desk lamp, anything she could find with a wire or a gear, piling it all into her arms before returning to Diesel's room.
"Here!" Verity said, dumping everything in her arms onto the desk.
Diesel's eyes grew wide. "Is this for me?" Diesel asked, turning the items over. "I mean, you don't have to. What if you get in trouble?"
"I won't, don't worry about it. Just show me what you know."
"O-okay! I can do that, yeah, here, take a seat," Diesel mumbled, pulling a second chair up to the desk. Verity sat alongside Diesel, watching as he began to deconstruct the items before him, explaining each step as he went. He seemed so focused, occasionally trailing off with his words as he focused on the task at hand.
If it was up to Verity, she'd never leave this moment. But she'd be pulled away - time and time again, she was pulled away from the things she held most dear.
All Verity could do was hold onto this - onto him for as long as possible.
Chiffon Shivaan, 18.
District 1 Male
"Basketball, huh?" Chiffon asked, laying across one of the benches on the sidelines of the court, the bright, fluorescent lights beaming down on him like a false sun. "I would've never guessed you like that."
Dean sighed, bouncing the ball against the smooth pavement of the court, the loud sound echoing throughout the large room, which was somehow built underneath the training rooms. The training center where they'd been staying was large, larger than even the most luxurious buildings from One - not that Chiffon had ever seen most of that side of the District firsthand. The large building and their relative freedom had given Chiffon plenty of chances to explore, and explore was exactly what he'd done, dragging Dean along tonight. Out of all the rooms they'd been to, this one was most notable to Dean. The boy from Four had insisted they stop so he could practice, and Chiffon didn't care enough to say no. But Chiffon was itching to see what else the building had to offer.
Chiffon didn't understand why Mystic kept scoffing at him for exploring, for "not taking training seriously." After all, he was dead serious, and he knew it even if nobody else did. He wasn't there to just fuck around and die; Chiffon was there to win and he was prepared for what that might cost him. But, that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun before things really kicked off. What was the point of just sitting around in their assigned apartment when there was so much to see past it?
"Why?" Dean replied, tossing the bright orange ball between his hands, "Because I'm short?"
Chiffon snorted, stretching his arm above his head, "Among other things, yes."
"Among other things? What other things?"
"I mean, where would you even play basketball in Four? Isn't everything there just sand?"
"No? I live further inland. There's more to Four than the coastline," Dean scoffed, throwing the ball at the net from one of the lines. Dean had attempted to explain the game to Chiffon, and yet he still didn't exactly understand what any of it meant, as there weren't many sports like it in One. They were far too focused on training to have time for trivial things, and those who did not train far preferred the arts to athletics.
"If you say so," Chiffon sighed, watching as the ball swished through the net, ricocheting off the floor and flying away as Dean scrambled after it. Chiffon clapped as he caught up to the rogue ball.
"You know, you don't have to watch. You could go if you want," Dean called, returning to the center of the court.
"Yeah, but where's the fun in that? There's nothing to do upstairs except sit on my ass and watch boring Capitol TV," Chiffon sighed. For better or for worse, it was more fun spending time with his ally, watching him play just like he'd watched Pomela perform so many times. Chiffon had been training for years for this, and yet being bored out of his mind for days before the Games wasn't exactly something he'd been expecting. But at least he had Dean. Dean wasn't Pomela, and Dean didn't always catch his jokes, but at the very least he felt that Dean appreciated him. Chiffon couldn't say the same about the others, none of whom took him seriously. Claudia stuck with Reign, who was practically isolating himself from the others; meanwhile, Mystic completely brushed Chiffon off, and Tarni was simply following her lead.
But Chiffon would show them. In just a few days, he'd show them all what he was capable of. And they'd all learn, just as everyone back home had.
"Once you're done, I think we should do something I think is fun," Chiffon suggested, sitting up.
Dean paused for a moment, brow creasing before responding, "What exactly do you consider fun?"
"Depends, but I have a few ideas," Chiffon grinned. "Why don't I show you, hmm?"
"I mean… As long as we don't get in trouble," Dean nodded. "We won't get in any trouble, right?"
"Of course not, you're with me," Chiffon said with a wink. He watched as Dean chased down the wildly bouncing ball and returned it to the rack he'd gotten it from. A moment later, Dean was back at Chiffon's side, water bottle in hand.
"So, let's go?"
"Yeah, follow me,"
Chiffon, with Dean in tow, made his way into the lobby, past several of the other rooms they'd already investigated. As they passed the library, Chiffon spotted the pale boy from Twelve still curled up in one of the chairs. He'd attempted to strike up a conversation with the boy earlier, but he'd been largely too engrossed in his book or too afraid of Chiffon to get more than a few words out.
"So, where exactly are we going? And how long are we gonna be? I told my mentor I'd be back before dinner to talk about plans," Dean said, as they rounded a corner into one of the back halls.
"Don't worry about it, I'll get you back in one piece."
"Okay, okay, if you say so," Dean relented as they came upon a lone door, tucked away in one of the back hallways far away from the lobby. Chiffon pushed it open, ushering Dean out into the bright sunlight of the Capitol.
"What is this?" Dean asked, as Chiffon let the door close behind them. Stretching before them was a small courtyard, a cracked marble fountain coated in ivy bubbling quietly in the center, surrounded by wrought iron fences and benches. The cracked cobblestones were covered in thick green ivy and moss, the training center stretching far, far above their heads.
"Well, it's a courtyard I found the other night," Chiffon shrugged. "I mean, it's not like its hard to find, but I don't think anybody else knows it's here."
"What are we supposed to do now?"
"Oh, that's where it gets fun," Chiffon snickered, making his way to one of the large clumps of ivy. Sticking his hand into it, he quickly extracted the cans of spray paint he'd managed to nab from the camouflage station earlier in the day. They were nothing like the stuff he used at home - these ones were meant to be used on skin, rather than walls and things - but he was hoping they'd still work well enough.
"How did you get those?"
"I borrowed them," Chiffon said. He walked over to one of the walls nearby and began to peel the ivy off. "Do you know how to use one of these?"
"Um… no. Should we really be doing this?"
"It's fine, I don't think anybody comes out here, And besides that I promised we won't get caught. I never get caught; in fact, I'm way too cool to ever get caught."
"I guess, yeah. Will you show me how to use those?" Dean asked, twirling a lock of hair between his fingers. Chiffon nodded, handing one of the cans of paint over to Dean.
"Here, shake this," Chiffon instructed. "Then take off the cap."
"Okay, I did it," Dean indicated, holding the can up for Chiffon to see.
"Good job, I knew you could do it," Chiffon grinned, tapping the top of the can. "Push on this, and paint comes out. Just… don't point it at yourself. Or get it in your eyes."
"Oh… okay, yeah I can do that," Dean nodded, turning towards the wall. He squinted as he began to paint, lines of navy blue appearing where his can had been only seconds before. Chiffon followed suit, a few feet away, rolling up the flowing sleeves of his shirt as he began to work. It was nice to have somebody willing to participate in his art, as Pomela only ever watched and heckled him. Soon enough, the sharp, acidic scent of spray paint filled the air, just the way Chiffon liked it.
"So, what do you think of the others?" Dean asked, as he wiped away sweat from his forehead, a smudge of blue paint appearing in the process.
"Hmm? The other Careers, you mean?"
"Yeah, what do you think of them?"
"Well, they're fine enough, I guess. They just don't really seem interested in getting along."
"Yeah. Do you think the whole two leaders thing is gonna work? You won't hurt my feelings if you say no."
"No way it's gonna work out. Which sucks because we'd be stronger together, but it's their loss."
"Yeah, it is," Dean nodded, sighing. "I just don't know what to do."
"I think you're smart. You'll figure it out," Chiffon laughed, patting Dean on the back.
"Oh… Thank you, Chiffon," Dean said, casting his eyes to the ground. "Nobody told me it'd be like this, or that it could even be like this."
"Yeah, but you've got this, I know it!" Chiffon affirmed. Dean nodded, turning his attention back to the shapes he'd begun to paint out on the wall. The more time Chiffon spent with Dean, the more he liked the boy from Four. Chiffon had always been good at making friends, and yet he'd never expected to make friends within the Career pack - after all, they weren't there to do that, they were there to win. But Dean seemed genuine, especially compared to the judgemental egos of the others. It was hard to not be friends with someone like that,
The faint sound of footsteps echoed on the walls of the courtyard. "Do you hear that?" Chiffon said.
Dean paused to listen. "Hear… what?"
Before he could get another word out, Chiffon grabbed Dean and dragged him deeper into the shadowy corner of the courtyard, the ivy obscuring them as they turned their attention to the door they'd entered from. Two figures emerged from the doorway, one of whom Chiffon recognized as Reign. They walked into the center of the courtyard, the light illuminating them enough for Chiffon to identify the second figure as Omega Riley, victor of the Eighth Quell.
"What do we do?" Dean hissed.
Chiffon quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. "Be quiet and listen. Hopefully they'll just pass through," Chiffon whispered harshly.
Dean pulled Chiffon's hand off his mouth as they sunk deeper into the foliage. The Twos didn't seem to notice the other Careers, nor the paint splattering one of the walls, as they passed through, apparently deep in their conversation. Reign was waving his hands around as he talked, his words loud enough to carry through the courtyard.
"I just don't think the others are gonna work out, okay?" Reign growled, "Is that really so hard to understand?"
"No, not at all, but you're already gonna be getting enough attention as is. We don't want to pull more to you," Omega replied, his voice calmer than his mentee's.
"I'm gonna die either way, who gives a fuck? Pulling more attention would be a good thing;that would mean more sponsors."
"We don't know you're dying, so don't say that. You can't just give up that easily," Omega snapped, grabbing Reign by the collar of his shirt. "You have to trust me, just like you did before."
"Why would I do that? You're the reason I got caught, you sent me-"
"No, I didn't. I told you that if you didn't go, all your friends that they caught would've died. I wasn't supposed to, and I did because I care about you okay? I made a promise to-"
"Don't fucking talk about her, you have no right to talk about her!" Reign yelled, twisting his shirt out of Omega's grip. He turned and stormed away, the door slamming shut behind him as he left the courtyard. Omega paused for a moment, shaking himself out, before following suit, returning to the indoors.
"What the fuck was that?" Chiffon muttered, clambering out of the ivy and vines before offering a hand to Dean.
"I have… no clue. But if the Gamemakers are gonna be targeting him, I don't think we should stick with him," Dean replied, brushing himself off as he stood up.
"You don't gotta tell me twice," Chiffon snorted. "Everything's a shitshow this year, of course."
"Mmm, yeah. Let's get out of here, I never want to do that again," Dean grunted. "Plus I don't want to be late."
The pair packed up what was left of the spray paint, Chiffon hiding it once again in the bushes as Dean looked on, unamused as ever.
Little did Chiffon know that this wouldn't be the end of the Career pack. No, it was the beginning of something better - something unexpected, but better nonetheless.
