District Ten

Interviews

Araceli Marshall (15)

and the words are all escaping, and coming back all damaged
and i would put them back in poetry if i only knew how
i can't seem to understand it

all this and heaven too — florence + the machine

Araceli didn't exactly love the idea of parading around a TV studio and trying to sell herself off to some snarky anchorman. Granted, she had essentially become one of Panem's hottest topics of discussions, particularly after the clumsy start to her brief Capitol experience — she had tripped off her chariot right after the parade, with cameras and Avoxes swiveling around her for the next hour like a swarm of hungry bees in search of the yellowest of flowers. She hated how nearly every single tribute had something to show off in front of the cameras — a few of them were obviously flawless, but even the clumsier ones seemed to have a charm to them that year. She touched the hem of her dress, rolling her eyes quietly at the way the couple from Nine went on about their relationship onscreen. Araceli liked them well enough, but she also found the way they showed off in front of everyone a little questionable — did they honestly think playing all lovey-dovey around each other would save them? Katniss and Peeta may have survived the Games, but the Capitol had made it very clear that they weren't falling for that sort of bullshit again. She rubbed her eye with her fist in a pensive gesture as she observed the way the two of them even exchanged a little kiss in front of a hooting audience. Were they for real?

"Don't touch your makeup," her stylist said next to her, "Do you want to go onstage looking like a raccoon?"

Araceli just huffed and shrugged her shoulders. She was usually carefree to the point of not caring what she looked like most of the time, but she did feel a little self-conscious when it came to exposing herself to her entire country. Just a teensy little bit.

"Araceli Marshall, you're up next."

She didn't realize that she was trembling until her stylist pointed it out with a scowl. She closed her eyes for a second, then let out a long, dubious breath, trying to think of what her mother told her to do once she got to that point — to breathe and be herself, even if those around her didn't like it. Her mother had always been her best friend — even if Helena was her actual best friend, being the only girl in the ranch who was about her age; Araceli loved her like a sister, but at the same time she didn't feel the connection she felt with her mother. She was her friend, her more present parent — her father had always struggled with the idea of being a young parent, so he was a little absent when Araceli was little — her teacher, even; Araceli's personality had become as nurturing and as kind as her mother's.

"And now, please welcome . . . Miss Araceli Marshall from District Ten!"

The crowd cheered in front of her, and for a moment she felt too dumbfounded by the immensity of it all. She just stood there for a second like a deer in the headlights, then ultimately made her way to the armchair that had been placed in front of Caesar Flickerman's.

"It's shocking, isn't it? To see that so many people care about you," chuckled Caesar, placing an understanding hand on Araceli's shoulder. The girl nodded dumbly, not knowing what to answer, which made the anchorman flash a graceful smile towards the camera before adding, "Well, let's see, Araceli. You're the daughter of a ranch owner, right? Eugene Marshall, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yup, that's him," Araceli nodded, clasping her hands together in a rather awkward gesture. "He, uh, takes care of the cattle. Helena's dad is more focused on the sheep."

"Fascinating," Caesar nodded, although Araceli knew fully well that it was anything but, "Who's this Helena again? Is she the redhead who saw you off with your mother and father after your reaping?"

"Oh, yes," Araceli nodded her head yet again. Gosh, she really needed to stop doing that. "We've been best friends since, well, pretty much the dawn of civilization." A few people seemed to laugh at that, which made Araceli smile. "She's just the best, honestly. She's brave, bold, intelligent, determined . . . she would honestly do a lot better than me in the Games, I think."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do well enough, Araceli," Caesar patted her gently on the knee, which almost made Araceli flinch. The man may have been nice enough towards her until then, but she didn't trust him — or anyone from the Capitol, for that matter. Caesar just coughed and checked his prompter before adding, "Well, I'm sure Helena is out there somewhere rooting for you. Was there a, uh, special someone back home who might be rooting for you too?"

Araceli's cheeks immediately turned a bright red, her head shaking vigorously at the sole idea of having a special someone back home. She hadn't even been kissed yet — but she definitely wasn't admitting that on live television.

"Oh, please, Caesar," Araceli replied, suddenly self-conscious about the Southern drawl that most Capitolites made fun of whenever District Ten was brought up in any sort of conversation. "No, I don't have a boyfriend, if that's what you're asking. Or a girlfriend, for that matter."

"All right, all right," Caesar's hands shot up in a defensive gesture that made the audience laugh yet again. That couldn't be good, Araceli told herself anxiously. "So no boyfriend — or girlfriend — then. That's totally all right, isn't it! We do love an independent woman from time to time, right?" The audience roared in agreement, which made the girl feel slightly relieved. Perhaps her interview might not go down in history as the most awkward of them all after all. "

Kyle Riojikio (17)

you're still a soldier in your mind
but nothing's on the line

intervention — arcade fire

The idea of being interviewed bored Kyle to no end. Yes, it didn't mortify, worry, or even annoy him — he simply felt bored by the mere idea of it.

He loathed them all of course. All the sound and the fury, the indecent pampering while the people in their Districts starved to death, the preposterous amount of people who were interested in them so long as they provided the country with a decent show once the Games began. He knew that was exactly what was expected of a six-feet-tall, bulky guy like him — to put on a magnificent show that would please and thrill his fellow citizens for days or even weeks on end. He had never been the boastful type — in fact, he hardly spoke to other people outside his small alliance with Caylyn and Cairo at all — but he knew some Capitolites were rooting for him already, even if his score hadn't been a brilliant one. He was quiet, moody, and mysterious, and Capitolites tended to love that in a peripheral tribute.

But honestly? He couldn't care less what those rich bastards liked.

He just coughed and knit his eyebrows when one of the younger members of his prep team told him it was time for him to go onstage, standing on his heels for a second before following her. Araceli's interview had been clumsy and a bit awkward at times, but the girl seemed to fare well so far — she had found herself an ample alliance, which was something Kyle deeply disapproved of, but the two of them had hardly spoken to each other ever since the Reaping and he honestly couldn't care less what she did so long as she didn't get in the way. Araceli seemed to be an exceptionally kind soul, and Kyle had been quick to shrug her off during their rather awkward train ride — she didn't seem to have any particular skills, and she would have become a nuisance sooner than later if they had let her into their alliance. Not that the girl had ever asked him to be her ally — she had quickly teamed up with those geeks from Three and adopted the kid from Seven, and there had been very little to discuss between the two of them after that.

"And now give it up for District Ten's greatest milkman . . . Kyle Riojikio!"

Kyle almost rolled his eyes at Caesar Flickerman as he walked onstage. Almost.

The man shook his hand before taking a seat in front of him, offering the seventeen-year-old a seemingly amicable smile before asking, "How's the Capitol treated you so far, Kyle?"

"Oh, you know, Caesar," he smiled back at the anchorman, shrugging his shoulders in a diligent gesture. "It's been fine, I guess. Plenty of food and plenty of everything, you know."

"Plenty of everything indeed," Caesar nodded with a chuckle, then looked back at the camera and added explanatorily, "Kyle is of Japanese descent and lives in the poorer part of District Ten, and he has worked as a milkman most of his life. Isn't that right, Kyle?"

Kyle nodded his head. "Yes, that's me. I've always liked cows better than humans," there was a general chuckle, which made him grin broadly. "But yes, Caesar, my life has never been easy — taking care of an absent mother and a prominent bunch of little siblings . . . I fear they might not be able to fend for themselves if I don't get back to them, you know?"

Caesar seemed to frown for the smallest of seconds, and Kyle did a pleased smile at the confused gesture in the anchorman's face. Kyle did not, as a matter of fact, have an absent mother or even a single little sibling to take care of — his parents had died when he was still a child, and he had been living off foster care until he turned sixteen, when he finally moved in with his girlfriend Mei-Lin.

"Oh, that's . . . that definitely sounds rough, Kyle," the anchorman nodded, still reading through his deck of cards in case he had missed some of the facts that he had been handed on each tribute. Unable to find anything that would contradict Kyle's statement, he finally offered the camera a gracious smile before turning back to the boy, "We all hope you do manage to make it back, though. I'm sure your little siblings are all rooting for you."

"Yeah, they're all such darlings," Kyle agreed, an ambiguous smile on his face.

"So we've seen you a lot with Caylyn Wren as of lately, is that right?" Caesar asked, a broad smile on his face. "Do you want to tell us what's been going on between you two?"

Kyle flexed his fingers in a quietly anxious gesture, frowning a little. "Um, we're allies. We've hung out with Cairo too, I don't know if you've noticed that."

"Well, yes, but I felt like I should ask because — "

"I think that's a little assuming of you, Caesar. I have a girlfriend and I'm very much in love with her, and even if I did I don't get why there's got to be 'something going on' between Caylyn and me just because she's a girl and I'm a guy."

There was a general murmur of agreement, and the anchorman just coughed awkwardly before smiling yet again. Kyle felt he could have beat him to a pulp then and there, the old jerk.

"Of course, Kyle. I'm sorry I assumed there was something going on between you two." Caesar echoed with a dismissive gesture. An awkward silence hung between the two of them, which made the anchorman cough yet again before adding, "So yes, I think our time is up now. Good luck, Kyle."

Caesar's tone was surprisingly curt and even a little tense, but Kyle couldn't have cared less. He just shook the anchorman's hand before heading offstage. He did a relieved grin when the audience clapped behind him, and the smile on his lips only broadened when he realized that his stylist and prep team were all seething with anger. He didn't give a damn about them, though — he was just glad he had managed to cut Caesar's crap short.

If he was to burn, the Capitol should burn with him.

Ugh I meant to have this up like two weeks ago but life (re: uni) just got in the way and well, you all know how that goes. My country's heading steadfast into lockdown though, so I'll probably have plenty of time to catch up with this story over the next few weeks. Thanks again to all those of you who have stuck around in spite of my messy updating schedule! I promise I'll try and get the pre-Games done asap (hopefully before the holidays). I hope you're all safe and at least moderately happy!

Up next — District 11 + Farewell Party! I thought I'd do something fun before the real drama begins, hehe.