It's been a while! I'm back to bring our final training day, and then next chapter we'll have private sessions! I hope there aren't too many mistakes here, but it's nothing I can't edit and fix later, amirite? I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, because it has an event I've been dying to write since the parade.
26 - Last Minute Preparations
Octavia Faye, 17, District 10
She's not sure how she's going to survive the next twelve hours. Hands folded under her chin, gaze trained blankly on her breakfast, Octavia is left at a loss for how she'll go on to her private session and interview later today. Yesterday had been easy. Yesterday saw her scaring younger tributes and rejecting one of the bigger contenders with enough guts to make her brother and father cheer for her.
But today is going to be a challenge. Today will be one event after another, preparing her in a one-time scenario for the sudden changes the Games go through.
Dianne shifts in her seat with a tired groan. For the first time since arriving in the Capitol, she's put on a pair of bright blue sanitary gloves. In all the times she's seen Dianne over the years, visiting the shop and handling the meat for the rest of her family, she's never seen the woman hide her skin from everything she comes in contact with.
She won't ask about it. Gossamer already bragged about why Dianne put the gloves on as soon as he'd made himself comfortable beside Octavia—something about it being a horrific hybrid of haphephobia, carnophobia and mysophobia. She isn't sure what two of those are, but Octavia is more than certain the carnophobia is the fear of meat that Dianne shows more prominently this morning. Dianne had actually gone pale, dry heaving into her shirt collar as she scrambled for the bathroom after a mere sliver of bacon was found in her scrambled eggs.
If this is what might become of Octavia in the arena, she's not sure how she'll survive life outside of the Games. The least she can do for Dianne is not draw attention to it by asking.
Now Dianne is just sipping at a protein shake, the fingers of her free hand shaking even after Gossamer left for the training centre. Octavia has yet to touch her own breakfast. Too many things are weighing on her.
Not only are the next twelve hours going to be a challenge, but then there's the girl representing Five. Quatra X—Capitolite spy, but having never actually lived in the Capitol. Octavia's heard the conversations her partner's had with other tributes, slowly piecing things together on her own. It just strikes a chord with her, the fact that someone spying for the Capitol is in the Games.
It strikes a chord with her that said spy looks like someone who visited the Faye shop almost every day. It strikes a chord that this spy happens to be reaped into a Quell that also has a rebel's child. She can't tell if she's going crazy or if the paranoia of being a potential target in the bloodbath is getting to her, but seeing Camelia Caballo's face every time she looks at blonde, grey-eyed Quatra X is starting to mess with her head.
So when Gossamer leaves this morning ahead of her, Octavia shoves her scrambled eggs away from her line of sight and inhales sharply.
"Dianne," she starts.
The woman hums once, barely looking up at Octavia. A good choice—Octavia hasn't really hidden her bacon very well under the eggs and toast.
"Do you remember the girl from my dad's shop? The brunette who told me to be more observant or whatever."
Dianne pulls the drink away from her lips. Octavia must've caught her interest with the question. "What about her?"
"It's…" Octavia chews her lip. "It's dumb and I'm probably overthinking things, but… Don't you think she looks really similar to that Quatra girl?"
"So you noticed," Dianne says blankly. Octavia glances up at her. A pair of calm, plotting eyes are staring back at her, Dianne's gloved hands now steady against the surface of the table. "I looked over your file during the Parade, Miss Faye. It rubbed me the wrong way, a Capitol child living 'officially' in the Districts being reaped this year. I'd assumed Nirav mentoring was the reasoning behind Quatra's involvement—"
"But he wasn't?"
Dianne shakes her head. "Adam has very loose lips. He bragged that Quatra lived in the livestock District up till now. Given your particular…" Dianne pauses, as though searching for the right word. "Your family history. Given that and Quatra's previous home, I'm more than certain you have something to do with her reaping."
Octavia's stomach drops to the floor. All the denial and silence about it all, refusing to disagree with others in Ten over her mother's rebel ties—has it all been for nothing? Was there ever any point to making a point of going down a different path to Isabelle's? Octavia never got in trouble. She wasn't out trying to "escape" her home like Victor tends to. She never made a step out of line, always did her chores and supported her dad as best she could. Hell, Octavia's never spoken to her mother since she was… God, if it weren't for the posters she would've forgotten Isabelle's face by now, alongside her voice and mannerisms.
She has no connection, emotionally or physically, outside of genetics to Isabelle Eulane. And yet the Capitol—maybe—have her on a watch list.
It's all too farfetched and out there. Octavia makes it very clear she when drags her plate back to her line of sight and spits, "Bullshit."
Everyone in District Ten knows Octavia has nothing to do with Isabelle. Isabelle isn't someone she hates—far from it—but she's certainly not someone she'll copy the actions of. Children are impressionable; but Octavia long since stopped being a child after Isabelle left.
"You have allies, I assume?" Dianne looks away from her as she pulls the bacon out from under her eggs. Octavia chews angrily at it as she hums affirmatively. "Who?"
"Does it matter?" she retorts with her mouth full. Octavia rushes herself to swallow the bacon. If she spits any in Dianne's direction by accident, the conversation might end in tears and stomach acid.
"I noticed a few tributes who'd mesh well with your personality," Dianne says idly, "but I suppose that doesn't matter."
Seconds pass. They turn into moments. Octavia is half-finished with her breakfast by the time she gives in to her curiosity; Dianne had been going somewhere with the question, and if Octavia doesn't answer she might not get the advice that could save her today.
As soon as she finishes eating her fill, Octavia hands the plate to the Avox standing behind her and mumbles, "It's Ham. From Seven."
Dianne sneers. The name must not be appealing to her—Octavia can't imagine why—but she keeps it together as she nods. "Mentored by Magnolia. Do you and… 'Ham' have a plan?"
She shrugs. "Ally until the top eight. Scatter afterwards. That's if we both survive the bloodbath, though."
"So nothing concrete." Dianne leans back in her chair. She hums thoughtfully, leaving Octavia to get ready to head to the training centre. She almost doesn't care to hear the advice as the minutes tick by, her precious training time slowly slipping out from under her the longer she waits for the woman. But, true to Dianne's enigmatic form, she gives Octavia the advice that remained a mystery up until now. "Miss Faye, I want you to make sure you and Ham survive the bloodbath. There's every chance you'll be targeted by Quatra, or even by the careers. If you can at least show a fighting spirit, show a camaraderie with Ham, then doubts regarding where you stand between the rebels and the Capitol will be settled."
Octavia hums lowly. She knows fighting is something she'll have to do, and she knows Ham is the only person who won't actively try to kill her on sight once that buzzer goes off. The advice feels almost redundant—until Dianne adds one last piece to it.
"Tell Lola tonight that you're excited to be in a Quell. Tell her you're excited to be part of Panem's more notable history. Tell her that you and Ham are ready to give it your all for your fans in the Capitol."
Tell the Capitol that you're not your mother. When Octavia steps out of the room, she feels just a little more on-track. Just a little more like she has a plan to survive once the timer starts. Just a little more like she has a chance of shaking her shadow.
Nikostratos Croix Farrington, 18, C-District 3
"How's the planning going?"
Gossamer doesn't bother looking up from his sword. After two days of doing nothing and watching everyone, the taller boy has finally decided to show off his skills to Croix. Croix won't deny that he was surprised to see Gossamer live up to his ominous bragging. Most kids from the Capitol—including himself at times, he will admit—tend to make mountains out of ant mounds when talking about accomplishments. It's nice to see someone backing it up and justifying their attitude with action.
He just continues on with his swordsmanship as he replies, "Had a few people in mind."
"Wanna tell me who?" Croix goes on. He leans back in his seat by the edge of the station. There's not a lot around here he's interested in doing, and Gossamer is fun enough company to have. Bit of an asshole, but who doesn't have a narcissistic streak at times? (It's just that, in Gossamer's case, his narcissism never seems to run dry.)
Gossamer demonstrates a parry that serves to jar his trainer's wrist. The trainer curses and stumbles back, dropping his sword and telling Gossamer to take a quick break. Gossamer has quite the smug expression when he turns back to face Croix.
The two sit on the bench and observe the other tributes. That's all their training days have been—watching and planning, observing weaknesses and strengths. They hadn't acted on any of their plans until yesterday, after talking things over with Cetronia. Croix won't deny that he'd expected her to turn them down—but Gossamer had been right about desperation mixing with pride and anger. He'd been right about the so-called archetypes all the tributes fall under. (And, Croix thinks, there's no doubt he's been assigned one by Gossamer in secret.)
There's a few groups that have formed, the biggest being the careers. Altan has just been a pro at amassing Capitol tributes to stay by his side, practically snatching them from under everyone's noses. All but a select few.
Avita Clements-McMillan hasn't been spoken to one by anyone outside of the girl representing Twelve wanting to be social. Croix was surprised at first over the reluctance to interact with her on Altan's part, but two days of training has made it apparent why: Avita isn't the most capable tribute to have on a team. Plump and top-heavy, as entitled as everyone else Croix knows. None of the weapon stations she's tried have shown success, and now she sits idly at the edible insect table and poking at samples with a scowl. The C-Districts in the career alliance all bring something to the table. Avita doesn't.
Then there's Simoleon Serif, who spends so much time with Adrianne that Croix can't blame Altan for not trying with them. And then Quatra X—the spy who always, always watches that girl from Ten—barely moves from Tooru's side throughout the day.
Croix grunts as he shifts in his seat, waiting for Gossamer to let him in on his plan. He's only been given small hints as to what the whole plan will result in come the bloodbath, and so far Croix only knows that Gossamer will manipulate who launches where and that Cetronia will target the careers.
As though reading his mind, Gossamer starts on the topic of the alliance. "With all her strength, Cetronia might still be overpowered by the sheer number of people in the alliance. So I was thinking that maybe we can cripple it somewhat. Or at the very least unnerve some of them and make them trip up."
"Oh?" Croix is most definitely interested now. He scans the room, finding all the Capitolites who continue about with their training like nothing is wrong. Like they have no idea what they'll be in for once that sun rises tomorrow and the countdown begins.
Gossamer nods to one particular group—the one that has the model, Luxor Aricunai. For some reason the boy from Six has been hovering with the duo from Eight, doing his best to make conversation and keep the mood light. "I think your sabotage might work well with making some of the C-Districts choke at the last minute."
It's an interesting way to use his sabotage. Gossamer doesn't make any suggestions for how to use it, but Croix doesn't need any. He's got a few ideas, especially since he's going to have to make sure everyone else sees. Croix keeps his gaze on the boy from Six for a while, calculating and working through his options—and then his clicks his finger with a smirk.
"Act natural," Croix tells Gossamer softly. "I don't want anyone thinking you had anything to do with this."
"Good choice," Gossamer agrees as he stands back up. He stretches a little, putting on a show of getting ready to resume his training. "Try not to make it too boring."
He snickers at that. Of course Gossamer would be worried about whether or not it will be boring. Croix waves him off as he stands up, parting ways from the swords station with a casual stride. It should be easy to convince the boy from Six to do something reckless, then let gravity take over. Whether this plan accidentally kills him or not is up for debate. Croix just wants to make an example of the boy to the others.
Saddling up to the trap station, Croix wastes no time greeting the trio hard at work. The girl doesn't bother looking up at him, her concentration stuck on her rope trap, while her partner looks warily up at him. It'd be more effective if Croix would execute the plan on Luxor, damage his chances of making it beyond the bloodbath—but then everyone else would be scrambling to help him, and his sabotage would be wasted. The boy from Six is his only option, considering Miss Eight won't even respond to him.
"You're… Croix, right?" Six asks slowly. He smiles sheepishly, like he's ready to be corrected, but Croix just nods.
"Yeah. I don't think I ever caught your name."
"Finn." Finn shrugs with a laugh. "Not exactly a name you'd expect from Six, I know."
Keeping up the banter is easy. Compliment his name, ask if he can join in with the trap making. Croix gives it a good few tries to wear down whatever defenses Finn might have tucked away in his mind. What he'll suggest to the boy will more than certainly set off alarm bells.
Banter turns into talks of what they hope will impress the Gamemakers. Croix brags about his intellect, detailing his plan to make use of the memory and edible insect stations. He learns that Finn is a pretty decent runner, and that he and a friend of his had joked about how well he'd do if he used that in his session. Croix's plan becomes more and more clear as conversation carries on, until finally he decides it's time to strike.
With an excited look to him, Croix shuffles closer to Finn and whispers, "Think you'll be any good at the gauntlets?"
Finn's head snaps up at the question. "What?"
"The gauntlets. Those platforms over there." Croix points in the general area of the station. Given how few careers were reaped this year, it's only been used once. Cetronia probably saved the poor station from going a whole Hunger Games without use. Finn follows his gaze and seems to pale at the sight of the station. It's no surprise that he's off-put by it, but Croix knows he can get him to give it a try. "The whole point is to be fast and dodge the trainers. You'll probably get a really good score on it."
"I don't know…" Finn glances fleetingly back to the pair from Eight, who are now watching the conversation with wide eyes. "What do you guys think?"
The girl looks to Croix once, her expression blank, before she looks back to Luxor. She must be leaving the verdict to him, because she doesn't say another word as she goes back to her rope trap.
Luxor stares past Finn at the gauntlets for a moment. They sit in silence—agonising, horrifying silence—before finally Luxor shrugs at the boy.
"No harm in trying, I guess."
Epsilon Church, 17, C-District 9
Knight looks him up and down with an almost amused look to him. "You're joking, right?" he scoffs.
Church, stoic as ever, shakes his head down at the career. "This is the Hunger Games," he deadpans. "Why would I joke?"
"It's just—" Knight looks over Church's shoulder, most likely at Bel calmly nibbling on her snack. "The whole package isn't really what I'm looking for."
"But you'll take the one-track-minded girl obsessed with owls," Church retorts.
That earns him a scoff and eye roll from Knight.
Church will be honest: He doesn't want to abandon Bel for an alliance as broken as an all C-District alliance. The fact that Knight had even approached him after Church had suggested Bel have something to eat early has him more than just a little prickly over it all. Church may have the skills to be a career, but he's already made his decision with regards to his District partner. If no one takes Bel, no one gets Church.
Not everyone seems to be very accepting of the sentiment. Knight just pinches the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh, looking more exhausted than someone in his secure position should be.
"Fine. Whatever." Knight waves Church off, already backing away from the teen and heading in the direction of his own alliance. "Enjoy your whole thing you've got going. No hard feelings come tomorrow."
He may as well have said that Church and Bel made his shit list. Church will have to make extra certain that Bel doesn't get hurt tomorrow.
He heads back over to the station she's at, where she's almost finished her protein bar and is thanking the trainer for giving her time to eat some more. Rye had been rather cruel this morning, throwing a fit once she found out that Church didn't want to ally with anyone but Bel. She'd thrown plates and breakfasts all over the room—and by the end of it all, Church was dragging Bel out the door before Rye had a chance to lob something at them next.
When Bel catches sight of him, she waves with a big smile. The two have gotten closer over the past couple of days. Church could go so far as to say it's what he imagined having Sarah around would be like. All the secret grins and sneaking around, staring out at the Capitol buildings through the window and learning about each other. Church's heart had momentarily stopped beating when he learned that Bel has a brother his age, the idea that someone else had every risk of losing their younger sister like Church does filling him with dread. His first actual conversation with Bel had made him want to protect her solely because she's Sarah's age—but now, knowing about where Bel comes from and who shaped her to be who she is, Church wants nothing more than to see that family stay whole.
Bel takes his hand with little fuss when he stands by her side. It's almost routine, like the warmth of his hand gives her a little more confidence and reassurance. He feels like he can be a big brother again, and he hopes he comes off as such to Bel in times like this.
As soon as she finishes the bar, she pulls her hand out of his and claps it lightly with her free hand. Bel shakes them in front of her stomach twice—a sign she taught him last night, which she uses in place of "ally". Church had learned that a lot of words used in the Hunger Games never had a signed counterpart. Given that "friend" and "ally" can be similar under the right circumstances, she's picked a good substitute for the word.
He shakes his head. "No," he says, making sure she can see his mouth. "He didn't like what I told him, so it's just us for now."
She gives him a thumbs-up. Bel isn't fussed over it, probably happier that she isn't going to be in a big group that would have to make her open up all over again.
"So," he goes on, changing the subject, "how's this station been so far?"
The trainer jumps in then, seeming almost eager to brag about Bel's progress. She places a hand on Bel's shoulder—startling the small girl for a moment—and beams at Church.
"Oryza is quite excellent at recognising different seeds and leaves," she says. "Not many kids from Nine do as well as she has."
That makes sense. Apparently Bel works part-time cleaning silos and lives on a property that produces wheat. If she didn't do as well as the others then Church would be more stressed than he already is.
"I'm very sorry to hear about Miss Coven," the trainer adds. She lowers her voice as she adds, "Bel told me that she hasn't been the nicest person."
Yeah, that's the biggest understatement Church has heard since training started. Church purses his lips and nods, softly agreeing with the statement as he waits for the trainer to go on. She smiles down at Bel, removing her hand and gesturing to the table, as she continues to explain how well Bel's scores compare to the others tributes' so far. It's a conversation that is, unfortunately, short-lived. As soon as the trainer delves into her praise she's cut off by a commotion on the other side of the room.
Church takes a few seconds to recognise the sound that rings through the air—a scream. Agonised and on the verge of pained tears, barely any words able to be formed by the unfortunate tribute. He whirls on his heels, searching quickly to see who it could be, but soon finds himself turning back to Bel and shoving her face into his chest to hide her view.
The gauntlet is not a station to be taken lightly, even by careers. Church avoided them for a good reason over the past few days, but someone else didn't seem to consider the same choice. The boy from Six is on the floor, a trainer by his side and calling for doctors. Bel squirms and fights against Church's grip, but he can't let her see this. He can't let her see the way Finnegan's leg has seemingly snapped in half, his tibia jutting out of the skin and sending blood to the floor in its wake.
Church hurriedly pulls Bel's face out of his chest, instead shoving it closer to his own and blocking out Finnegan's form from her sight. "I don't want you to see this, Bel," he says. Her eyes scan his face in horror—what kind of scenario could she be conjuring up, he wonders? "Someone's hurt. I don't want you to see it."
He doesn't even realise he's pleading with her until the trainer takes Bel's hand and keeps her focus on the station. Church's chest is hurting as he looks back over at Finnegan—at all the blood on the floor, pooling around his legs and smearing against his hands. The cries he lets out sound so familiar, sound so close to the ones Church had let out when his mother's head landed on his lap. When glassy, dead eyes stared up at him accusingly.
His breathing falters for a second. Church pushes himself to stay upright, to not get light-headed and pass out. He's seen worse. He's prepared for worse. A little blood won't stop him when he's so close to seeing his plan through.
Finnegan is lifted out of the room on a stretcher, injected with enough morphling to make him so braindead that he doesn't even realise he's drooling. The duo from Eight try to hurry after him, the girl's hands over her mouth while the boy panics and apologises over and over.
The gauntlet is sectioned off as Avoxes come in to clean. Church does everything in his power to stay in Bel's peripheral, keep her from seeing it until it's clean. He knows he can't stop her from seeing blood being shed forever, but he can at least hold it off until the bloodbath. She doesn't need this stress on top of Rye's behaviour.
Forgive me David
That's our chapter! Since it's the final day of training, I'll draw up a little list of the "official" alliances so far (alliances confirmed in-story) after our chapter question is done!
QQ #21: Do you think Croix's plan to throw off other tributes by using Finn's injury will work?
Bit of a simple question, but you never know! Now for the alliances:
- """Career""" Alliance: Knight, Val, Wystan, Morganite, Florence
- Wholesome Alliance: Adrianne, Simi, Daphne, Cole, Cyber
- The "No Homo" of Alliances: Ham, Octavia
- Found Family: Bel, Church
- Tall, Handsome and Petty: Gossamer, Croix
- No witty alliance name, they're just sweet: Quatra, Tooru
- A Very Weird Combination: Cham, Luxor, Finn
Keep in mind that this is just pre-bloodbath alliances! Until everyone knows who's still alive afterwards, this is who they plan to see the Games through with. I'm interested in seeing where you think the alliances will go, but for now let's see how everyone does with their private sessions and interviews! Till next time, everyone!