Chapter Thirty: Food Comas and Awkward Questions
Capitol Containment, Day One
AUTHOR WARNING:
Romeo's POV section contains content that may be upsetting to those who have/did have an eating disorder. If you feel uncomfortable around content like that, feel free to skip straight from Artesia's POV to Sotia's. However, it does contain some exposition that will be used later, so shoot me a PM if you just want the exposition.
Spark Emmersen, District Five Male
If I had to guess, I'd say we were probably one of the lowlights of the parade.
I mean, we were behind all three Career Districts and District Three, which is known for having pretty decent and varied costumes every year. I'm pretty confident that, in comparison to just about everyone else, we made a pretty awful first impression on these Capitolites.
Currently, we're waiting for the elevator to come back down so we can be shown to the place where we'll be living up until the Games actually start. However, it just took the tributes from Eleven and Twelve all the way up to the top two floors, so we might be here for a few minutes.
"Come on, you guys weren't that bad." My mentor, a twentysomething man named Candle, is trying to make us feel a bit better. Kudos to him for trying, but it isn't really working.
Catarina's mentor, an aging woman named Jolt with deep wrinkles and hair that's more gray than brown, responds quickly. "Well, you couldn't have come off any worse than that gigantic mismatch from District Ten, or that girl from District Twelve taking off her costume halfway through and throwing it into the crowd."
"Or whatever the heck was going on with District Eight," Candle adds.
Finally, the beautiful metal-and-glass elevator lowers itself to the ground floor and opens its doors, leaving ample space for everyone to fit as they hit the buttons for their floor.
Based on the buttons that light up, I guess that everyone from Districts Three, Six, and Eight has gotten on with us. Part of that theory is proven when I wind up standing next to the petite girl from Eight, who has a blotchy bruise covering most of her face and bits of multicolored thread in her hair. She's snarling at something I don't know about, though, so I decide that it would be best if I leave her alone.
The elevator stops before our floor and opens up, letting two kids and three adults out on whatever floor this is (I'm guessing District Three's). I take the opportunity to move closer to the back of the elevator, where you can get a panoramic view of the lobby through the slick, clear glass. It's a view you can't get anywhere else.
Then, our turn comes. The elevator, after lurching upward again, slides open, leaving the five of us to extricate ourselves from the crowd of people who still remain.
It might just be that my perspective has shifted after getting used to the wildly decorated, over-the-top Capitol, but this hallway is rather plain. The carpet on the floor is a neutral shade of brown, hosting a pattern of lighter brown geometric shapes. The walls are painted in a similar shade. Aside from two plain white doors set in either wall, those are pretty devoid of decoration.
Ivy has decided to take it upon herself to point out what each door leads to. "That door at the end goes to where we'll be eating breakfast and dinner, the door closest to us now is where I go to sleep, the one right next to it is where all the Avoxes for this floor stay, and that means that last room is where you and your mentors will be sleeping. Come on, let me show you there!"
She practically skips over to the door before throwing it wide open for us, and we all wander into the room.
As soon as we get an eyeful of it, I gasp, and Catarina almost faints.
I'm not surprised that this room is bigger than Mel's apartment and possibly bigger than my house. There being several shiny, expensive-looking jewels placed in strategic areas to reflect brilliantly colored light isn't much of a surprise either. Even the breathtaking view visible from the far wall isn't too far from the norm for the Capitol- especially since the view is probably fake since I never saw any windows on the way in. What does stun me, however, is the sheer height of the room. An ornate chandelier dangles far, far above my head, while other lights that I'm guessing are designed to look like the stars at nighttime add soft pricks of white to the lofty ceiling.
The only out-of-place touches the room appears to have are two sea-blue doors on the left side of the room and two painfully pink ones on the right. Between each of those pairs is a more fitting gray door, which starts to get me confused.
"The blue doors are the boys' bedrooms, and the pink doors are for the girls," Ivy says. "The doors in between lead to the bathrooms. Sorry about this, but the place went through a redesign recently, so it might be a little cramped."
I pick my bedroom at complete random from the two available and decide to take a quick peek. While there are many words I would use to describe the room, "cramped" isn't one of them. At this point, the gigantic bed heaped with enough pillows for a small army isn't out of place, and neither are the numerous paintings in elaborate frames that line the walls, the brightly shining, golden ceiling fixture, or the wooden floor made from what I assume is pretty expensive trees. If I were here on any other occasion, I'd be laughing like crazy. But not for this. Never for this.
I close the door and say, "It looks great."
"Nice to know," Ivy says. "Dinner's going to be at six-thirty. Clean up, explore your room, do whatever you need to do, just be in the dining room by then." With that, she exits into the hallway, and Candle and Jolt go to their own rooms.
"So, what do you think?" I'm trying to strike up a conversation with Catarina and not sound awkward, but I'm probably failing at that.
"It's much nicer than I'm used to," she says. "When you have six siblings, you kind of get used to everything being crowded and dirty, so this is a bit of a shock."
"So, about tomorrow…"
"Let me guess. You want us to stick together for the first day of training and see how it goes. Did I get pretty close?"
I nod. "Yeah, that's about it."
"I don't really have a problem with that. At the very least, the Careers might be less likely to target us if we stick together."
"Agreed," I respond.
Even with a potential ally at my side, tomorrow isn't going to be especially fun. Being trapped in a room to train with weapons we have no idea how to use, and vicious Careers scaring everyone (sometimes accidentally, sometimes not).
Catarina points at the clock on the wall. "It's six-fifteen. We probably should start cleaning up for dinner."
Dinner was never really a formal thing back home, but here, every meal is set, and in all honesty, I'm starving. I don't want to miss it.
Catarina and I go our separate ways, and chances are, each of us is wondering the same thing.
I wonder if I can trust this guy?
Artesia Alexander, District Ten Female
Once I got in the shower so I could clean up after the parade, I wished I never had to get out of it.
Even back when I still lived in a house, stuff like this was nonexistent, and even things such as warm baths were downright rare because it was so much of a hassle to set up. But here, you can change the water as much as you please, from the temperature of the water to the pressure it's spraying at to the direction it's coming from. And that's not even getting into the really fancy settings, like the one that dispenses a cleaning product of your choosing at the press of a button.
However, I don't want to be late for my first meal in the Capitol. Part of that is because I'm pretty confident that if I stayed here too much longer, I'd start absent-mindedly eating the shampoo I'm using. But the rest of it comes from the fact that I do not want to tick off my mentor before the Games even start.
Slowly, grudgingly, I extract myself from the shower and step onto a tiny white rug. Or what seemed to be one, anyway. Suddenly, a blast of hot wind hits me from all directions, feeling strange on my naked body. However, when it dies down a few seconds later, I'm completely dry.
I hustle to the closer, expecting that there'll probably be a few simple outfits in my size to choose from. But once again, the Capitol goes beyond my wildest dreams. Instead of just having some clothes and hangers, there's a holographic display right inside, and you can pick your ideal outfit in seconds just by entering the color and size you want.
After pulling on a plain black skirt and a blue shirt- the first clean clothes I've had in quite some time- I hustle down to the dining room. When I open the door, I find Faolan, Tractor, and Kitty all sitting at the elegant table, just tucking into the first course.
"So nice of you to finally join us," Kitty says.
"Sorry, kinda got distracted," I reply.
Tractor cuts in. "We all do. It's the Capitol, there's tons of insane crap we've never seen before. I was late for dinner on the first day too."
None of us say much more, instead electing to focus on the food. No surprise, it's far tastier than anything I've ever had in my life. Thin soup with oddly-shaped, doughy-tasting things floating in it starts us off, followed up by meatballs cooked with assorted greens, apple slices with some sweet brown concoction spread over them, hot, puffy rolls with butter and jam, and more greens, served cold and topped with a sour, watery liquid.
Swan comes in late and eats very little before disappearing again. I don't get why she can't have dinner with the rest of us, although having a beak instead of a mouth doesn't exactly make eating easy. Tractor and Kitty have enough restraint to take it slow, and Faolan somehow stays at a fast but manageable pace, but I have no such sense. If all the tributes had an eating contest, right here, right now, I probably could have won it.
I don't stop or even slow down until the first wave of nausea hits, and by then, it's probably too late. Thankfully, at this point, I only have a few bites of food left to go in my second full platter, so I decide, "screw it," and just finish it off.
By this point, I'm stuffed. And we haven't even gotten to dessert.
"Just take it easy with the dessert," Tractor says. "The last time this was served, one of the kids threw it all back up and didn't make it to the bathroom. You'll see why in a minute, but after that incident, it looked like someone had been murdered in here for a couple of days."
It's pretty obvious why once the dessert platter comes in. It's a towering cake covered in deep red frosting. When the Avoxes who brought the platter in cut a slice of the monstrous thing, the insides are shown to match.
"Red velvet cake," Kitty says. "It's really good."
Everyone takes a piece of the frosting-coated behemoth, and sure enough, the first bite confirms this to be one of the best things I've eaten. After a meal better than any others before it. If my stomach didn't feel like it would explode any second, I probably could have eaten the whole cake.
As it is, I stop at two slices, my face undoubtedly coated in bits of cake. Wanting to maintain some degree of politeness, I find a napkin and manage to wipe my mouth mostly clean. Faolan only eats half a slice, passing the other half to Tractor, who happily finishes it off.
However, now that the food is gone, it's time to get down to business.
"What are your strategies for Training Day?" Kitty is the one who winds up popping the question.
"Put this bulk to good use," says Faolan, while gesturing towards his admittedly well-built body. "Look for allies, get used to a weapon, and maybe reviewing some survival tactics."
"That's what they all say," replies Tractor. "Do you have any special skills? Any talents that might work in your favor?"
"Unless cow herding is a major part of this Games, no," he answers.
"Artesia, what about you?" Kitty adds in her own two cents.
I honestly haven't been thinking about too much. Maybe I just shut it out by instinct to try and keep myself came, but training starting tomorrow definitely scares me a little bit. "Probably stay under the radar for a while. I don't want to come off as a target."
"Not a bad plan," Kitty says, "but you need to know that there's a fine line between not being viewed as a threat and being seen as Bloodbath material. Too far on one side, you have the Careers to worry about, and too far to the other, everyone who's not a Career and wants to make an impression will beeline straight for you."
"Which means?"
"Show them that you're competent, but don't take it too far or try to show off. The gap between a four and a five is a lot bigger than the gap between a five and a six, if you know what I mean."
"Okay, that makes sense."
"However," she adds, "if you somehow find a talent inside the training room that's too good for you to hide, take it and run with it. Sure, it makes you a Career target, but suddenly every outlier in the room wants you for an ally. It's easier to avoid getting attacked if you're in a group."
"Hopefully, that works out," I respond. "I'd rather have a target on my back than be seen as having no chance whatsoever."
"Same," adds Faolan.
Tractor smiles. "I think you two are going to do great in training tomorrow. Everyone has a talent, you just have to find yours."
I smile back, even if the butterflies in my stomach (both from my nerves and the excessive amount of food I ate) feel like they're dogfighting inside my stomach, with how many backflips it's doing. Faolan appears to be doing the same thing, but I can't tell for certain whether his smile is genuine or not.
I guess I'll figure that out for sure tomorrow.
Romeo Brady, District Eight Male
I'm currently in the bathroom, throwing up everything in my stomach.
I know I was supposed to take it slow with the Capitol food, considering I've never had anything that filling before. But the salad and chicken were so good, and the rolls with strawberry jam, and especially those chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting- I must have eaten six of those…
This is the third time I've done this since I got here. And, sickeningly enough, I don't regret a second of it.
Once I stop heaving and my stomach stops spewing its contents, I manage to stagger to my feet, flush the mushy remainder of my dinner down the toilet, and clean my face before I go back to the dining room. Not because I want to eat anymore- I've digested enough of the meal that I still feel full- but just because everyone else is probably still there and finishing up dinner.
Less than a minute later, I stumble into the dining room, probably not looking my best. Sunset gives me a look like I suddenly grew another head, but Lacey doesn't seem to pay any attention. Neither does my mentor, Tassel, or Lacey's mentor, String. All three of them are too busy engaging in a whispering conversation that I can't make anything out of.
After I sit, it stops so suddenly you'd think I flipped a switch to shut them down or something.
"You feel full?" This from String.
All I can say at this point is "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Good thing, too. Trust me, binging on food isn't going to do you any good if all you do is throw it back up. It's something I had to learn over time after I was starving the instant I got out of the Bloodbath." Tassel says that even if he knows that isn't really true. He was known during his time in the Capitol for having a perpetually empty stomach, that kept being emptied on its own because he would always overeat and throw it all back up. In the Games, whenever he found food, it was always gone within six hours.
However, he had the advantage of being an excellent fighter in an arena that gave Careers a severe disadvantage, so he could just be sponsored almost whatever he wanted. I don't have that luxury, because I can barely hold a knife, let alone use it. Meaning, I should probably follow his advice.
"I hate to sound so pessimistic, but I'm just trying to enjoy my time here, because chances are I'm not winning. I can't fight at all, I have zero wilderness survival skills, and on top of that, I'm missing fingers."
"Just forget your weaknesses," says String. "Luckier victors have won the Games. I should know since I'm one of them, but remember the Third Quarter Quell? The girl who won did so despite the Gamemakers actively trying to kill her for ten days."
I was too young to be around for that Games, but everyone's been told the story now and again, and it was a huge rebel rallying point.
The year before the Third Quarter Quell, the last two tributes, both from District Twelve, threatened to poison each other with berries if they weren't both allowed out of the arena. The Gamemakers didn't stop them, figuring that it was a baseless threat.
It was not. Both of them ate the berries and died in seconds. The Gamemakers didn't want to revive such a blatant symbol of rebellion to be their victor, but they'd mutilated the third-place tribute so badly that bringing him back to life would do more harm than good, and the fourth-place tribute had been dead for too long to revive. Thus, they had to settle for no victor at all that year.
The Third Quarter Quell twist was revealed almost a year later, and it was announced that the District each of the 24 tributes would come from would be determined by a giant spinner. Needless to say, it stopped on District Twelve far more times than any other District.
They'd expected lots of weak, pitiful children to be murdered in the opening seconds, proving that all acts of rebellion of that scale would be punished. However, District Twelve put together a strong showing, formed a massive alliance, and slaughtered all the Careers except one in the Bloodbath. (And there were more Careers than usual that year because the spinning wheel had been rigged to land on Districts 1, 2, and 4 slightly more often as well.)
Despite the Gamemakers sending far more than their fair share of threats towards the band of District Twelve tributes, at the end of it all, Corinne, one of the girls from Twelve, wound up victorious, becoming a massive headache for the Capitol in the process. (Sure, seven other District Twelve kids died, but that's still better than eight, and it was more proof that they could thwart the Capitol's attempts to beat them down.)
But really, why does any of that matter? Corinne was pretty strong in her own right, from what I heard. All I am is some flimsy sixteen-year-old who can barely pick up his fork to eat dinner.
Lacey sits quietly through all of this. She hasn't seemed to react at all to anything so far, except when she fell over during the Tribute Parade. Then she said plenty, but I don't feel comfortable repeating most of it.
Something tells me that even if I want allies, Lacey probably isn't going to be one of them. I can't seem to start a conversation with her, no matter what I try, and she honestly unnerves me a little.
Maybe I'll find an ally in the next few days. Maybe I won't.
But either way, these next few weeks are going to be hard.
Sotia Vance, District Three Female
Now that dinner's over, all five of us are sitting on the couch, watching some mindless television show. In theory, anyway.
Mirabile, the escort, is laughing his head off like he's never seen anything this funny in his life, even if this show is almost as bad as the cartoons we get back home. My mentor, Wendy, is half-asleep, her head propped up with two pillows. Rhaemyr's mentor, Gear, is sitting bolt upright, barely paying attention to the show as he fiddles with something in his hands. Rhaemyr, who's sitting right next to me, stares at the screen with a bored look, as do I.
After the characters onscreen make yet another awful pun, Rhaemyr leans close to me and whispers something in my ear. "We didn't get television back where I lived, but based on this, I don't think I missed much."
It's not that funny, but I'm so desperate for a happy thought to hold onto that I burst out laughing like crazy and can't stop. Mirabile, Gear, and Wendy proceed to look at me like I'm some kind of lunatic (no surprise there), while Rhaemyr proceeds to move a bit further away.
All of a sudden, Gear perks up. "Oh, wait! Before you guys go anywhere, I have something for you two. I do it for every tribute, I don't know why I almost forgot this time…". Just like that, he stood up and hurried out of the room, leaving the half-finished thing he'd been working on behind.
Wendy sighs before lying back down again. Mirabile has no visible reaction.
"Any theories as to why he just stormed out of the room like that?" With Wendy semi-unconscious and Mirabile paying no attention to us, Rhaemyr turns to me for that question.
"Yes. None of them particularly pleasant, but yes," I respond.
The two of us sit in silence for the few minutes until Gear returns, trying to ignore Wendy's grunts that are turning into snores and Mirabile's obnoxious laughter. The sitcom becomes increasingly harder to ignore, like an itch that you just can't scratch, no matter how hard you try. Finally, about five seconds before I break and start ranting about how incomprehensibly awful this garbage posing as… well, anything besides pure torture, Gear finally returns, gripping two sheets of paper and two run-of-the-mill pencils.
"Oh, great," Rhaemyr whispers. "Why the heck does the Hunger Games come with homework? I thought that was, like, the one benefit of getting Reaped."
Gear, even if he heard that statement, appears to ignore it. "Sorry about this, guys. This is just a little questionnaire I made my second year mentoring. It's designed to compare you with other victors so we know how to prepare you best for the Games."
"Is it long?" Both of us ask this question in an almost-eerie unison.
"Not that long," Gear replies, in a tone that makes me realize that yes, this is going to be pretty long.
He gives each of us a questionnaire and a pencil. I quickly flip to the back of the page so I can count the number of questions, and it reveals that there are twenty-seven questions total. Thankfully, most of them are just yes-no questions, meaning that this isn't going to be too boring.
Most of the questions are very ordinary, like "List your hobbies," and "Do you have experience with building things?" However, there are a few weird ones, like "Have you ever eaten something that a normal person would not qualify as food?"
I finish the thing in about twenty minutes and give mine back to Gear as Rhaemyr keeps furiously scribbling. I'm reminded of the tests I got in school back home, where I was always among the first few people to finish.
I turn to talk to Wendy, to see if she has any tips for tomorrow, but she's passed out on the couch. I guess I'll just have to wait until Rhaemyr is done and Gear can do whatever analysis he needs to do on this thing.
Finally, Rhaemyr shouts "done!". He gives his questionnaire, which is covered with random doodling, to Gear as well. Gear proceeds to vanish into his bedroom, presumably to try and make sense of what we put down.
The garbage masquerading as a sitcom mercifully ends a few minutes later. Mirabile takes that as an opportunity to shut off the television and vanish from the room, calling "see you guys tomorrow!" over his shoulder.
Wendy has started snoring by the time Gear comes out of his room, holding the same sheets of paper a second time, although he's written so much over the both of them that I could barely recognize them for what they once were.
"Unsurprisingly, you two both related pretty closely to a victor of the past," Gear says. "Rhaemyr, you came up as being closest to String Luckher, Victor of the 58th Hunger Games-" Rhaemyr has a neutral look on his face, clearly he's never heard about her Games before- "and Sotia, strangely enough, the victor you got matched with is me."
I gesture towards all the writing, and he says, "I take extensive notes. No surprise here, but I hate watching people I know die, so I want to get someone out of the arena. Unfortunately, ever since I won, that's gotten a lot harder…"
It makes sense. After he exterminated all the Careers during their second night in the arena by electrocuting them while they were asleep inside the Cornucopia (from the secondhand knowledge I have of his Games, anyway) the Careers presumably learned to prevent anyone with technological prowess from leaving the Bloodbath with supplies, at all costs. In fact, a few years ago, the boy from Two said his mentor had told him "District Three tributes are like a ticking time bomb. They can go off at any time and you need to get rid of them as soon as possible."
"Come on, you two," Gear says. "I'd like you to watch your Victor's Hunger Games before we go to bed. It'd be nice if we had an idea of what you need to focus on in training." Then, he adds, "Wendy, can you set up the 79th Games on the television in Sofia's room? I'm going to set up the 58th in Rhaemyr's."
Gear heads for Rhaemyr's bedroom and Rhaemyr follows. Wendy staggers towards my room, nearly toppling on the way there.
With a small sigh, I follow, hoping that somehow this will provide something I can use tomorrow.
Odysea Davos, District Eleven Female
"So, you work in the fields too?"
Thomiah nods, the motion barely noticeable. "Yes, I do, or did would be more accurate at this point. It gets a little easier after a few years."
Cordelia, my mentor, goes to bed super early (like 8:00 early), and Citrus, Thomiah's mentor, is currently downstairs grabbing a book he left in the lobby, meaning Thomiah and I are alone. With nothing else to do (sure, we could turn on the television, but every program Citrus and Cordelia found earlier is just Capitolites raving about the upcoming Games, which neither of us wants to be reminded of), we're just sitting around and trying to have a conversation. Unfortunately, neither of us appears to be that good at it.
Thomiah then asks a few more questions, rapid-fire style. "So, any idea what you're going to focus on tomorrow? And what did you make of the Careers? You think we'll need to give them a really wide berth this year?"
"Survival skills and a weapon, I don't think they're that bad in comparison to the norm, and everyone always has to do that, specifically in that order," I respond.
Thomiah lets out a little half-snicker before reverting back to the serious tone of before. He quietly fiddles with his hands, letting an awkward silence fill the room once more, broken only by a fan kicking in above us.
I decide to take the reins once more, and ask Thomiah, "Any experience with weapons?"
Before he can answer, the door swings open, and Citrus hurries in, the book he'd been hunting for clutched in his hands.
Just looking at him, you could tell he was from District Eleven. Deep brown skin, dark eyes, heavily scarred hands, small, thin stature. The only concession he's made to kinda-sorta fit into the Capitol culture is that his black hair is dyed a rainbow of colors at the ends, with orange and yellow being the most prominent. He wears a plain shirt and ripped jeans, but he also has a strange necklace with a miniature cactus dangling from it, of all things.
Sure, it doesn't make a ton of sense, but after he got dumped into a desert arena two-and-a-half decades ago, he resorted to eating cacti to stave off dehydration. The Gamemakers cranked things up way too far that year, from what I've heard- very few of the deaths were from combat.
After Citrus was airlifted out of the Arena, he allowed the surgeons to remove all the needles that had accumulated in his stomach and intestines over the course of his Games (he tried to pick them off a cactus before he started eating, but he was bound to miss a few) but asked them to leave the scars on his hands. I have no idea why, considering I'd probably get flashbacks to my games every time I saw them, but he probably has his own reasons.
"You two getting along? Just asking quickly, because the last two we got hated each other," Citrus says.
"We're doing fine," Thomiah says. "Both of us have pretty similar backgrounds, so that's a good starting point."
"Sounds great," replies Citrus. "I'm going to clock out- something tells me tomorrow is going to be a long day."
"Okay," I reply. "It's going to be a long day for us, too."
Citrus disappears into his room, leaving the two of us alone.
Thomiah smiles. "Any specialty skills you have that I might want to be aware of?"
I shake my head. "In the fields, you don't learn a ton of those, except maybe patience. And maybe poison ivy detection- that grows everywhere in the fields if you don't catch it early."
"Same here," says Thomiah. "I know some kids put alcohol tolerance down as a skill- like that will ever come in handy- but I can't even do that since I haven't even been drunk before."
Just for a quick second, I manage a smile. "What, you thought I was going to break into the liquor cabinet or something now that Citrus and Cordelia are asleep? Because, no, I'm not like that at all."
"No," says Thomiah. "You don't seem like the type of person who'd show up on the first Training Day with a hangover."
I nod. "So, you thinking of a number you're trying to hit for your score?"
"I was thinking a seven or an eight. A threat, but not the first thing the Careers are going after."
"Huh. Me too," I reply.
Then, Thomiah steers the conversation into unexpected waters. "Just a quick question, are you trying to pick up allies or are you going solo all the way?"
I try to maintain a serious expression, but knowing me, I might just look constipated right now. "Allies, one hundred percent. I don't work that well alone."
Thomiah continues on. "Do you want to start as a group of two and see if we can pick up a couple extras together? We might have better odds of getting people with us if we stick together from the beginning."
Holy… crap. Sure, I was expecting to snag an ally or two by the time this was all over, and sure, my District partner is the person I'll have the most contact with over the next few days, but I never expected anyone to pop the question this soon. Although, maybe I should have guessed it was coming based on the direction this conversation was going.
"Yeah, I don't see why not."
Thomiah smiles, and then suddenly yawns. "I don't know about you, but I want to get some rest before tomorrow, so I'm going to bed. See you at breakfast tomorrow." With that, he turns for his room, quietly slipping in through the open door before shutting it behind him, leaving me alone.
I'm exhausted too, but I'm quite nervous about tomorrow, meaning I probably won't sleep a wink. However, it's going to be best if I try, at least.
I walk into my own room and practically throw myself onto the bed. It feels like heaven compared to the scratchy hay-and-straw-stuffed cot I have back home, but all it does is mask the fact that none of this should be happening. I should be home, soaked in sweat after another difficult day in the fields, eating a small meal of raw vegetables, like I'm used to. Not here.
With that on my mind, I roll over and try to settle down for the night.
My eyes close, but I know that isn't going to do anything this time.
Godric Runestone, District Two Male
I can't sleep.
Part of it is because Crag snores louder than anyone I've ever met (it's so loud that it sounds like it's coming from a microphone, and that's with a wall separating us). However, the rest comes from sheer nervousness.
It's one in the morning. I should be running through what I'm going to do to show the other Careers that I'm the best candidate to lead them, hands down, or better yet, be asleep. Despite that, I figure that maybe some fresh air will help, so I decide to head for the roof.
It's a pretty well-known fact that the building has its rooftop built for people to be up there. Sure, it's impossible to commit suicide up here the conventional way (I learned that in the Academy, where it was mentioned that before the third Games a blatant rebel jumped off the roof as opposed to giving the Capitolites a show), and it might get kind of chilly at night, since it's not insulated, but it's still wide open, has spots to relax, and gets you a good view of the nighttime sky (although not much else, because the light pollution from the Capitol makes it difficult to see the starts even when it's clear out).
I contemplate leaving a note, but it's not like I can escape the building or anything, so I skip it and begin to exit the suite. Crag is still snoring up a storm, and Cassidy and Galadia both appear to be asleep as well, although Cassidy is shifting around and grunting a lot as she does so.
Without slowing down or even looking back, I stride down the empty, near-silent hallway and into the open elevator. One quick ascent upwards later, the elevator doors slide open to reveal the rooftop.
You can tell this place was designed to be fancy. I'm currently in some kind of garden area covered by some kind of thin plastic ceiling and filled with the intoxicating scent of exotic flowers. There aren't any walls, just a handful of thin rods arranged in a square to hold up the ceiling. A handful of benches dot the roof in a seemingly random pattern. On each side, I manage to catch a glimpse of the brightly-lit Capitol as thousands of people live their ordinary lives (even if it is later than I'd expect most to be up).
Without a second thought, I move out into the open, looking up to see if this is the same sky I'd be seeing back home. Unfortunately, that's not true- all I can see is a lazy, luminous half-moon, drifting in what may as well be a sea of black ink.
I wonder what Dorian and Freya are doing now that I'm gone. Has Dorian essentially moved into Freya's house? Has my volunteering finally gotten it through to Dad that he's screwed up in how he raised us, or has it just driven him to turn all his anger toward Dorian for not telling him? If I somehow get home, how am I supposed to live in the Victor's Village with the person who made my childhood a living hell just a few doors down?
So many questions, so few answers.
"You're nervous too?"
I whirl around at the sound of another voice, not sure what to expect. However, when I take a closer look, I notice the plain silver dress and the red hair. Without a doubt, it's the girl from Four.
"You can come closer, you know," she says. "I don't bite."
Sure, she can say that all she wants, but that doesn't mean I can turn my back on her for a second. Unfortunately, I'm a Career too, so I guess the same sentiment applies to me.
Nevertheless, I move closer, close enough that I can see her attempt at a half-smile. "Sienna Starboard, District Four."
I relax a little. "Godric Runestone, District Two. What are you doing up here?"
Sienna sighs. "Honestly, trying to stave off a panic attack so I can get some sleep tonight. Things have not gone well for me these past few days."
Without realizing it, I'm already brushing this girl off. Sure, she might have had a few bad days, but just about every day back home was a bad day for me.
"Maybe we can just talk for a little and try to work things out, especially since we're going to have to work together tomorrow anyway?"
Sienna's uneasy expression changes back to a semi-smiling one. "Eh, I don't see why not." Then, she heads for the ledge blocking off the edge of the roof and swings her legs over it without a second thought.
Without stopping, I do the same thing, not caring too much about the falling risk. A fall would hurt a lot, but I'd still be alive and on the roof when it was all over.
"So, what do you think of your District partner? Because mine is, to say the least, different," Sienna says.
I hadn't seen much of Galadia before she volunteered yesterday, but I'd seen plenty of Iridium, having been introduced to her six months earlier when it became clear she was probably the best contender on the girls' side. Iridium wasn't half bad- she hardly ever talked, but when she did, if not polite, she was at least civil. Galadia made it clear on the train she didn't like Iridium because she thought Iridium was a moron, and she's essentially waging war on her mentor (even though I don't particularly care for Cassidy either, I'd at least try not to lose my cool with her), although I don't know why she does that either. In short, I don't know how to compare her to Iridium, or analyze her in general, for that fact.
So, for now, I just say, "She's definitely… interesting."
"Mine, too," Sienna replies. "He's not even a Career, just some random guy who volunteered to save his mom. Sure, that's a nice gesture, but it's going to make winning the Games a hell of a lot harder."
"Did he want to join the Careers?"
Sienna sighs. "I asked him on the train, and he declined. He said he doesn't want any allies."
Based on what I know of the Games, that's not a very sound strategy, especially since all but two (arguably three) victors of the Games since the third Quarter Quell either started out in an alliance or joined one after they entered the arena. Even most of the more out-of-the-ordinary victors had alliances to work with.
I decide to ask the next question. "Do you have any ideas about the pair from One?"
"They both look like Careers, at least," says Sienna. "Not sure about the guy's personality, he seems normal, but the girl looks like a tough cookie. She seems like the kind of person who'd get in three knives after the first one landed, just for good measure."
"Let's try not to tick her off tomorrow," I add. "You remember how dysfunctional the Careers were last year? I don't want this pack to be anything like that one if I can help it."
"Yeah," Sienna says, "Sirena told me some stories about that pack. Apparently, the members got along so poorly that they broke apart on The theirs training day and finished separately, which is just about unheard of."
There's silence for a few seconds. Then a few more. Finally, I decide to turn and leave, hoping to get just a little sleep before training tomorrow. Taking care not to fall off the roof in the process, I slide off the ledge, beginning to walk back towards the elevator.
When I get there and press the button, I turn and see that Sienna has followed me. The door eventually dings, and we step into the contraption, preparing to be launched down to our floors. As it descends, Sienna asks one final, fatal question.
"How do you feel about being a legacy tribute?"
I seize up without meaning to. Throat goes dry. I manage to get out a few monosyllabic words before Sienna gives me a friendly smile and says, "It's okay, never mind. I'm worried about having expectations to live up to, too. Especially with all the nutso crap my sister did at the end of her Games."
The elevator reaches her floor, and she steps out and throws me a quick, hasty, "See you tomorrow." Then, she disappears from view.
Only after she heads out do I notice that not only have I frozen up, my knees and elbows have gone rigid, I'm drenched in cold sweat, and my stomach feels like something has exploded in there. I can't force myself to move again until the elevator slows and opens for a second time, and when I do, it feels stiff, unnatural, and strange.
Then, I check the clock on the wall, noticing that it's two in the morning. I need some sleep.
Like that's going to be easy now.
Author's Notes:
-Finally, finally, finally have a chapter out! And it's a biggie. Training Day One comes next, everyone! I'm keeping the POVs a surprise this time.
-We have officially hit 100k words! (Probably not a good thing, since we haven't even gotten to Training yet, but I'm celebrating it anyway!)
-Just for the heck of it, I'm going to ask a quick check-in question to see who's actively reading (I understand if you're not, to be honest). The question is below, please PM the answer if possible:
-How do you think your tribute(s) will fare during Training?
-Sorry for the long wait. See you next chapter (hopefully soon!)
-EDIT, 1/12/20: Added a trigger warning at the request of a reviewer.