Chapter Sixteen.
Interviews.
Valdis Solgren, 18 years old;
Sector Seven Male.
He dreamt of a nowhere sort of place.
It wasn't familiar. It wasn't home or the fringes of Two or the Capitol or even the house he was asleep in. He dreamt of something in the middle of everything – unseen and unknown. Vivid splashes of colour danced around and Valdis tried to catch them, though his hands were weird oblong sort of shapes that caught the light and refracted it into his eyes. But they weren't his eyes, they weren't really eyes at all. Valdis smiled in his dream because chasing colour was like chasing life and running away from negativity.
It was a dream, but it was also a snippet of his reality, and as the colour faded and a drum breached the sunlit sky, bang banging a voice right into his ears that weren't really ears, Valdis bolted upright and the colours broke into the clarity of his room. He met the eyes of another tribute that he'd spent the past three days with and a small, sleepy smile broke out onto his face.
"G'morning," Valdis said with a yawn, stretching his arms out. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of being woken up so suddenly?"
His vision slowly swam back into focus and the blurred outlines moulded back into shape. It wasn't the most pleasant shape at that. A boring brick of a face stared at him with dead eyes.
"We have to go into the kitchen."
"Are you inviting me to breakfast?" Valdis asked Phobos, who blinked at him, and shook his head stupidly. "I kid, I kid. What's up?"
He shrugged. "I was told to wake up anyone who wasn't yet awake. Don't know."
When he walked off, Valdis couldn't help but laugh to himself. Don't chew my ear off! he thought as Phobos disappeared into the social space outside their shared rooms. He yawned again, closed his eyes tight, the dream slipping from his conscious-mind and memory, and Valdis swept his legs over the side of his bed, tucking his toes into a pair of comfy slippers and stumbled across the carpet.
He looked around briefly and realised that when Phobos had been instructed to wake up any lingering boys, he was the only one in his room that had overslept. He laughed at that. Valdis was keen to do his best in the future that was about to become their present in just under twenty-four hours. Yes, he'd enjoyed some friendly splashing around in the pool with Viorica, and yes, he'd enjoyed kicking back in the grass next to Kaia who slept a lot! But he took this seriously – he wanted to win. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself along the way.
When he broke through from the semi-darkness of his room and into the sunlit kitchen, a flock of eyes turned to face him and he realised a large table had been set up in the kitchen with most of the boys sat in chairs like some kind of corporate meeting. He recognised faces and had done his best to store names because he knew it would help him in the future, but right now he wished it wasn't the boys staring back at him, but the familiar faces of Viorica and Kaia.
He could see the backs of some of the female tributes through the glass, congregating around a carbon-copy of the table that was based right in front of him.
"Ominous," Valdis whispered to himself, situating himself in a chair between two of the other tributes. "What's going on?" he asked to the boy on his left, who unlike Phobos, actually looked considerably friendly.
Thank the lord some of us can at least smile in this place.
Tayte Vasburg nodded his head in the direction of Sterling Milano – steroids-personified – who sat in a much larger chair than anyone else, staring at each tribute in turn before his eyes landed on Valdis. For a brief second, a chill ran down Valdis' spine, and the smile swiped clean off his face. He'd been doing his best to understand where he was and he knew, eventually, that the darkness would have to seep into his alliance because he was part of a trio, and only two could win. But that was later and later could wait. Yet, something about Sterling's look and the way he seemed to slump in his chair reminded Valdis that this was someone that had been through the Hunger Games.
He'd turned down his volunteer – he-who-shall-not-be-named dickweed that had lost him his place in the Academy – because he wanted to be here. And yet…
And yet…
"He doesn't look happy."
Tayte laughed. "When does he ever?"
"True that, man." Valdis' stomach rumbled and he sighed dramatically. "Could do with some toast though. What's the policy on breakfast right now?"
"I think it's a 'you aren't having any until we're done' sort of policy."
"Ugh." Valdis sighed again.
"Tell me about it."
The final seat was pulled from the table as a very embarrassed looking Vinicius sat down, unable to meet the eyes of anyone, and Valdis laughed again. It was strangely endearing and unbelievably sad coming from the kid with the lowest training score.
Vinicius wasn't even weak looking. Between the sheepish look he wore on his face now, most of the time Valdis saw an irritable scowl on his face which showed some sort of fight. But he was out of his depth here. Valdis didn't want to see him die but it was what it was. He just hoped the only untrained tribute in this entire Games didn't have to suffer for too long.
If he'd been given another day or two, he might have tried to pulled Vinicius from his shell a little bit. It was a flaw of his but also something he liked to see as a strength. Never knowing when to shut up and let people go on by their dreary selves.
"Now that we're all here—" Sterling's voice was very much large and in charge, but with a deeper effect of sadness. Vinicius mumbled an apology as his steely eyes landed on the latecomer and Sterling clasped his hands together, once again looking around the table as if assessing each and every one of them. Even Valdis bit his tongue.
Twenty-four hours to go.
"This will be quick. We were instructed, both Jasper and myself, to speak to our tributes."
Yes because you've been an amazing mentor. I feel as if you've poured your wisdom down my throat and—
Valdis internally rolled his eyes. He'd barely seen his so-called mentor.
"Today is interview day except with a twist. They will be conducted in the Training Hall where a mock-stage has been set up. The questions will come at you via intercom so the interviewer will not actually be in the room and the audience will be made up of your fellow tributes."
Some whispers rippled across the table but were quickly silenced by Sterling's raised hand.
"You will also be interviewed in your alliances. The Capitol thought it more interesting to have you all together with the people you'll be teamed up with in the Arena."
More whispers. This time Valdis turned to Tayte and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"That'll be fun," Tayte said with a nervous twist of a smile.
Valdis nodded. "Who're you with?"
"Ryland, Kasiani and Brodus. You?"
Valdis wasn't really sure if he was supposed to be talking this casually about alliances with someone that was literally considered an enemy to his path to the crown, but if he was going to fight Tayte, let it be tomorrow. The kid was nice and Valdis appreciated nice. He appreciated people that gave him the time of day and didn't shut him down just because he was a little bit of a brighter personality than what was considered stereotypical of where they came from.
"Kaia and my sector partner, Viorica."
"What do you think—"
"Anyway," Sterling interrupted, once again with a very commanding voice that didn't match his diminished external appearance. He so does not want to be here. "You will have time to prepare with your alliance what you'd like to say, what angle you'd like to convey, and then your stylists and prep-teams will be here to get you ready. Just do your best. I'll be honest, I hated this part."
"Camera shy?" Valdis found himself saying, and when all eyes turned to look at him, he felt like he was back at school giving a presentation. It was always something he'd loved doing and when someone faltered; the introverted kids struggling under the intense eyes of a whole class, Valdis was always there to cheer them on.
Sterling's lip twitched upwards into a half-grin. "Yes. That doesn't change. Even in the Arena where there are cameras literally everywhere. Try to forget about that when nature calls."
"I'm sure there are some weirdos out there that might enjoy such a sight."
Some tributes made a repulsed noise at Valdis' comment, some laughed. Sterling chuckled and for a momentary glance, the darkness of his Victor life lifted, and Valdis got to see the glimpse of someone that he himself had managed to bring out. It filled him with the very colours he'd been chasing in his dreams.
"Now go off and find your alliances. Be ready for your stylists in a few hours."
Dismissed, the tributes departed from the table, and Valdis turned to face Tayte one final time.
"Well, good luck for today," Valdis said, extending a hand.
Tayte took it warmly and shook it up and down. "Go get that toast you want before everyone floods the kitchen. See you around."
"Thanks."
See you around.
As Tayte left, Valdis thought again about tomorrow, about the Games, about the carnage and blood that would soon tear apart the bubble they'd been deluded by the past few days. It was easy when you were able to pretend you were simply housemates – even the strongest tributes could forget for a little bit.
See you around.
The next time he might get the chance to say anything to Tayte, it could be at the end of a sword.
Valdis was prepared for that. He didn't like it, but he was ready for it.
He spotted Kaia and Viorica walking in through from the kitchen and he waved them over. As the next hour or so passed, toast was buttered, chewed and swallowed, and strategy became the hot topic of the day.
See you around.
Such a pleasant phrase with an underlying darkness.
And yet, one day, he might not have a choice.
Juliet Romero, 18 years old;
Sector Nine Male.
Amongst the controlled chaos of tributes discussing strategy, hell broke free as the main doors opened.
An ocean of flamboyance filtered through into the Tribute House and Juliet crumpled his face into distress as the noise reached a pitch and volume above anything normal and healthy. Briel was just the same in her reaction at the arrival of the stylists and prep teams. Although unlike Juliet, she wore her heart on her sleeve to the point that anyone in the room could read her. It was a trait that drew Juliet towards his sector partner and a trait that he hoped he himself had under control.
Years of living in the Lower Cut would do that to a guy just trying to make a dishonest living. Offer a hand, the world would take the entire arm. Keeping his head under the waters of his current situation was the best he could do right about now.
"See you guys in a bit."
Ozias their so-called leader and prophet, waved and departed, heading towards Kasiani over by the couches.
Vinicius and Sivan soon left with their own stamp on saying goodbye – the former with a nod, the latter without actually uttering a word – leaving Juliet and Briel to uncomfortably catch the eye of their own stylists and prep-teams.
Through a flashy and false smile, gritted teeth to the point that Juliet could feel the enamel grinding away, he looked at Briel from the corner of his eyes as the seas parted and the volume reached an entirely different crescendo of pain and agony.
"Good luck," Juliet whispered.
"Fuck my life."
Fuck my life indeed.
"Julieeeeet!"
The way his name was drawn out sent chills down his spine, but unlike Briel, Juliet had been raised to do his best in any social situation and to get the best out of it for himself. So, lathering on the biggest grin he could muster in the face of such a caricature-like individual, Juliet moved into the quick embrace his stylist Oriana offered him.
"How are you dear? Kiss, kiss!"
He heard the snigger by his side and couldn't help but chuckle as Oriana pulled away and the prep-team swarmed around the two from Sector Nine. Over their heads, other tributes were either trying to actively avoid their teams, or were succumbing to their fate for the next hour or so before the interviews.
Juliet was scared, that was a fact. But fear had been such a constant in his life that he'd known for a long time how to compartmentalise that emotion and channel it into something provoking and useful. Fear was good as long as the fear was manageable and Juliet was the king of ducking and diving when it needed to be done, and using what was at his disposal in the shittiest of situations.
This charade so many of the tributes were playing, and the stylists themselves with their yas queens and work that hair, it was all so transparent to Juliet. If he caught a whiff of sunshine and rainbows, it made him want to gag because of the falsity behind it all. They were here for a reason and he was here because it was the only way for him to avoid a fate worse than where he'd end up tomorrow.
In the spur of the moment, Juliet had taken a leap, and he was prepared to land on both feet. He had no qualms about doing what needed to be done to get there. Even at the cost of his dignity.
"I think we should take this in a bit," Oriana said, as she ushered Juliet and Briel towards the double doors, poking at Juliet's hair and twirling a bit of Briel's. "Through here. I work best in the sun."
"That tan is something else."
She blushed at Juliet's comment. "Why thank you hun. I do try."
Yes. Something else entirely. She looked like a wrinkly ass-cheek.
He walked side-by-side with Briel until they found a spot on the grass and the prep-teams set up their station. Carts were unfolded, shelves pulled out with stacks upon stacks of things Juliet didn't even want to know about, and if Briel's face could purse-up even more, her lips would be sucked up into her mouth and never come back out again.
And that would be a shame. Juliet thought Briel was a hoot. Being able to read her so easily made his life a lot simpler.
"We never really got the chance to talk before," Juliet said to Briel, who was busy slapping away Oriana's persistent hand. "You should just let her get on with it."
"Yes," Oriana said with forced joviality. "Let me."
Briel sighed and nodded her head as the team fluttered around them. Juliet did his best to focus his mind on himself and Briel and their situation. At the end of the day, when all of the idiocy of living in this bubble was over and it popped into a shower of blood and innards, Juliet knew where he stood and what he was willing to do.
If it was a normal Games, in his mind he'd be planning how to get rid of Briel. But with two Victors, Briel was very much a part of the story he wanted to tell. He could use her strength and if a situation was needed where he required a distraction, her vicious emotional swings were a useful smoke-screen.
He didn't want to be a bastard, but being a bastard was part of this existence, and he'd given up trying to fight the system a long, long time ago.
As a comb was pulled through his hair, Juliet winced and set his mind on Briel and their imminent combined futures.
"Ozias has made it pretty clear from the off that he's in this for his own mission. Vinicius and Sivan are useful because of what they represent and we aren't the typical volunteers which I think is what drew him to us in the first place."
Briel nodded, wincing herself as a member of her prep-team plucked a hair from her brow.
"But I don't buy what Ozias is trying to sell. It's too perfect. And he knows as much as we all do that in the end, only two of us can win. Whatever he wants from this, he plans on being one of those two standing, and I don't think he intends on either of us joining him. It's his game with Vinicius and Sivan and we are simply the muscle."
He'd seen it on the streets before. The wilier drug dealers with lanky limbs and deep pockets usually hired dullards with brick-like arms because it was the balance that life insisted within the shadows. There was a system of brains over brawn but both cohabiting the shit-stains of the District together. It worked because the world understood the cycle.
The Games would be different because Juliet knew people like Ozias. He was one of those dealers promising something without making it clear what the payment would be until he came to ask for it.
But if Juliet and Briel were one step ahead of him, then just like Juliet had seen before, and just like karma had come to bite him in the ass the day before the reaping, the cards did not always play out the way one expected.
Briel's face was darkening but not in a way that meant she was about to explode. It was a way that made Juliet understand that she knew, in her bones, that they were in this together and despite their alliance, the goal was in mind where two crowns would be given to Sector Nine.
It was exactly what Juliet needed and expected.
"We stay for as long as we need to, and when we have to go, we go. If things get dirty in the meantime, we can wash our hands later."
Briel nodded her head. "I don't like him, but you wanted to be in his alliance, so I went with it."
"And I thank you for that. I still believe it's the best option out of everything. We can use those three as much as they can use us. But use has its limitations and I—" I've seen it all before, he wanted to say, I've seen how far the idea of use can get someone. "—I want to make sure we come out of the inevitable ending on top."
"We will," Briel said, a determined tone to her voice. "You don't have to worry about that."
Juliet smiled. Briel wasn't one for close contact and neither was Juliet. It repulsed him if anything unless it was a wintry night and a girl from back home had found his way into the back-alleys with him. He lived a hedonistic lifestyle because if he allowed himself such a thing as hope and dreams, the world would one day throw a fist at them and hopeless shards would shower down upon him.
He'd given up with those thoughts. Each day was new with fruitful opportunities and this was no different.
As the hours bled into one, Juliet and Briel were made to look resplendent in outfits that couldn't be further from the core of who they both were. The tributes gathered at the sound of the intercom and the voice beckoning them towards the hall.
The two of them joined up with Ozias, Vinicius and Sivan. They'd discussed as a unit what their interview strategy would be and going into this, Juliet was prepared to play the part he needed to play. He was not like the Nalara kid that was clearly manipulating his meat-head Phobos. He was not like the steroid-injecting Tavius who loomed over his two friendly allies. Juliet didn't play mind-games in the same sort of way. It was simply like living on the streets. Doing what needed to be done.
Surviving.
And this was one big game of stepping over others to make sure that surviving became the ultimate purpose.
If he stuck to those same instincts he'd grown up with, he knew he could do this with Briel. And if there came a time where winning with Briel was no longer an option, then he could roll with the punches like he'd had to do a thousand times over.
The Games were a different ball-park but if he thought about it long enough, they were like the streets he'd grown up on. And he was one of the top players back home, so he would be here.
The alternatives to that were impossible to fathom.
Damali Zahrat, 18 years old;
Sector Ten Female.
During the normal Hunger Games, for most of the tributes their living nightmare was being a part of them point blank. For some tributes, it might have been training. For others, the bloodbath and the actual Games. And for some, waking up itself was a nightmare, walking around a lifeless husk waiting for the inevitable.
Damali's worst nightmare was unfolding before her very eyes. She wanted to be sick. She felt as if the walls were too high for her to climb over and if she looked away, maybe things would go back to normal, but she didn't want to look away because that would be disobeying and rude and Damali didn't want to be rude and she didn't—
"You look stunning."
Three simple words and Damali's world started to shake just a little less. The earthquake subsiding, yet lingering, pushed to the peripheral.
River was head-to-toe in diamonds and jewels, each encrusted into beautiful red silk that shimmered down her body. Damali had never seen anyone so beautiful and yet River was complimenting… me?
Damali shook her head with a light, yet subtly dismissive laugh. "I think you need to look in a mirror before you use that word."
"Oh please, we're both gorg'," River said with a hearty laugh. "Bex literally looks like a butt-plug. All pink and pointed at the top with a curvy bottom-half. She's fuming and I love it."
Damali laughed again. She didn't really get why River had become so focused on what the designated mean-girls of the Tribute House were up to. She knew Callisto had exchanged words with her since the first night and River wasn't the type to forgive and forget. As River's friend, Damali wanted to be there for her, so she kept her head down, thoughts cleared and did her best to follow lead.
It was what she was used to doing all her life. Kicking up a fuss and saying no just wasn't built into her way of surviving.
Arm-in-arm, the two girls walked through the Training Hall doors and towards the rows of chairs that had been stationed for all the tributes to sit. A camera crew was based around the audience to film whoever was being interviewed and Damali could feel the little microphone that had been clipped into the hem of her dress. Her nerves were doing somersaults in her throat.
Literally, my worst nightmare. And yet my life personified.
She was used to being on stage and used to the eyes and the looks and the words and the everything suffocating her down into the Damali that had agreed to an ally she didn't want because River wanted him. It was just her way of existing because Damali didn't know anything else.
And she truly cared for River. She just wanted to do the best by her friend through this hellish journey. A journey that she'd seen as her only escape.
"C'mon. Tavius is already there."
He looked splendid in his red tuxedo and he offered Damali a courteous smile and a nod of his head. She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes travelled ever so quickly down the entirety of her body. He was a man and she knew men. Even if she felt hideous, men ate her up when she wore clothes similar to what she had draped over her.
It made her feel even more disgusting.
Five minutes passed and the lights dimmed. River's hand went even tenser in Damali's and she patted it gently, trying to calm her friend. Though she herself was practically on the verge of vomiting, she knew the importance of these interviews and of impressing an audience at home waiting for her to fight and kill. It was barbaric but it was also necessary and she was committed to bringing River to the end with her.
She wanted to live because she'd considered dying before and it was her way of moving forwards in life. Despite everything that Damali felt, she was determined, and when she felt rock-bottom, she knew there was only one way to go and being that low, usually kicked her in the right direction.
A hand went up from one of the stewards at the front and the tributes hushed immediately. Tavius put his hands on both River and Damali's shoulder and she did her best not to shrug him off. Her dress felt ill-fitting even without a cloying, strong hand pushing her down in her chair.
She knew that wasn't what Tavius was intending, but she couldn't push past what she felt towards him. It all felt very wrong.
"Ladies and gentlemen!—"
Let the show begin.
"—we are live with this month's tributes hailing from District Two. I know how thrilled you all must be to get to the good stuff and finally talk to the kids we've been watching for the past four days."
Hoots and hollers were filtered through from the intercom for effect and it felt rigid and false. River was beaming though still shaking with nerves. Damali had a soft smile on her face for the sake of River. She wanted to be in bed right now and focus on what was most important and that was surviving, but this was all part of it, and she knew what she had to do.
"First up, we would like to welcome to the stage. Gormlaith—"
"Oh hell no," River muttered under her breath.
"—Damali and Tavius!"
Oh hell no indeed.
"First?" Damali whispered, unable to control herself.
A camera swivelled round and the tributes in proximity to its field of view immediately draped on overbearing smiles. But this wasn't their time to shine, it was Damali's, and she had to do her best.
As the three of them stood and made their way to the chairs set up on a platform risen above the rest of the hall, Damali focused on her feet. Do not trip. Left then right then left then right. She knew, in the back of her mind, that she had this down. Movement had been forced into her from a young age. The allure and subtlety of shimmying her hips, her hair swaying side to side; it was in her veins and as dirty as it made her feel, Damali ran with it because she knew she needed to.
It was weird sitting on the chairs with a voice coming from nowhere. Damali blinked in the ferocity of the lights baring down on her and felt River's hand slip into hers. It wasn't weak to have a friend. Especially when there could be two victors.
Tavius must have noticed because Damali saw it, something she'd seen since he joined them, a flicker in his otherwise mirthful eyes.
"Welcome, welcome. How excited are you to be the first ones up?"
"So excited, thank you for having us," Tavius said.
"Yes it's wonderful to be—"
"Our time in the Capitol has been very different," Tavius interrupted River and Damali knew there and then what they were in for. Being at rock-bottom didn't just bring determination in her gut, it brought out all the nasty, burrowing emotions, and watching River's face briefly twist into confusion, made her grip on her friend's hand tighten unexpectedly. "I hope that you've enjoyed watching us and what we've gotten up to."
"We most certainly have," the voice said enthusiastically from the speakers. "Well let's get down to it. Damali, we'll start with you—"
Do not cry. Do not stutter. Do everything your mother taught you to do even if you hate those things about yourself. And for River's sake, do not let Tavius think he owns the spotlight.
"—and since we have a lot to get through, there's no point beating around the bush. Let's talk home life. A little birdy told me that if I wanted to, on a lovely summer's evening, I might find you in a place called the…'Desert Charms?"
Damali's throat tightened and she heard a snigger come from the audience. Their eyes were bad enough, boring into her very soul, tearing her remaining strength asunder, scrutinizing her look, ugly, ugly, ugly, but to hear those very words spoken aloud…
She thought she was nodding but couldn't be so sure. She thought of being on that stage for all those men and their absent-minded wives. Her mother drilling into her that she had to be perfect, that her body was not hers, that she was too fat, too thin, too weak, too skeletal. Her mother slapping her in the face. Her mother kicking her in the back of the legs. Her mother hurting her… over… and over… and over… and…
"Shouldn't we focus more on what's going to happen, rather than what we're leaving behind?"
River. My saving grace.
"I… well – yes, yes I suppose so."
The interviewer was clearly mad about the question being redirected but despite the giggling still coming from the audience, Damali's eyes were focused intently on River's kindness staring back at her. Hand still locked with hers, and over her shoulder, Tavius with an arched eyebrow, and for the first time since joining them, Damali not giving a rat's ass what he thought about them.
She did not like him and usually those thoughts did not come with what Damali tried to put into the world. Disliking people was too far because all that energy was usually poured towards herself. But she did not trust him. And she refused to let a man speak over her friend.
"What can we expect from you three tomorrow?"
Tavius laughed boldly. "Tomorrow we—"
"—are going to surprise you. You can count on that."
She didn't care if she'd royally fucked her interview with all eyes on her from inside the room and around the country. She was used to it. At her lowest low, it was no longer about caring just for herself, but for what she did for River and their impending journey together.
Tavius looked shocked at being served his own medicine as he was interrupted by Damali.
She flashed him a smile and felt the squeeze around her fingers as River held onto her.
Tonight, Damali was prepared to speak out for once, try something along the lines of leading, because she did not want to see River punished for her kindness at allowing Tavius into their group. If they had to, for their sake, Damali was ready to leave him right away. Before he had time to work his fingers into the friendship they'd created.
She didn't know him, but she didn't need to know him. This was not that sort of game.
"Moving on…"
The interviewer asked another question and as Damali did her best to look over the tributes' heads and not into their eyes, knowing that their thoughts were cruel and harsh because that was just the way people were, she focused on tomorrow and the darkness it would bring.
But in that darkness, River was a light.
She would do anything to protect it.
Anyone that's read a story of mine before knows I hate interviews and won't really feature them in the chapter. I'd much prefer continue getting to know these tributes.
But on that note… we are done with the second round of POVs!
Next chapter will be an omniscient-style launch chapter and then it's time to kill some Careers.
I hope you're all okay and taking care of yourselves. Thank you so much for your support with this story. It means the world.