A/N

An update on a Tuesday? How unconventional of me. Well, apologies for the delay, I have recently sat some exams so they took up a lot of my time outside of work, But I am a free elf (at least from exams anyway) and with that, I gladly return to MoS with the first of three training chapters! We are starting to get a lot more interaction between our tributes; lets see if any more alliances are starting to form...

Kazimir Ilyushin, 18, District Twelve Male

Unfortunately for Kazimir Ilyushin, the one person he could not deceive was himself.

As his fingers wrapped around the pen, the tip hovering just above the tattered pages of his journal, Kazimir felt as though his life was crumbling around him –he was crumbling.

He supposed that his life had always been crafted from fragile pieces; held together by lies and deceit. His own moral compass was skewed to the point where he no longer knew the difference between good and bad, wrong and right. To Kazimir, everything was grey. But despite his failings as a person, Kazimir continually reminded himself that it was not his fault. This was not the life he had chosen; this was the life that had chosen him. What was he to do? Give up and hand himself over to a society who wished him dead? Not even the cleanest of consciences would do that so willingly.

Kazimir was human, after all.

Scowling, he tore the blank page from his journal, his mind dry of words to place on the paper. Without thinking, he found his fingers folding the paper into the shape of a plane, just like the ones Day used to make as they would sit together on the rooftop, staring into the sky and wishing they could take flight.

He missed Day.

Kazimir cared little for other people. He cared for his mother deeply, knowing how she had done her best to raise him in the harsh environment around them; selling her body in the brothel downstairs whilst Kazimir played with whatever he could find in the attic above. He also cared for Day, his best friend and the only person he tried to protect from himself. Tried and failed, it seemed.

Kazimir had thought he could keep on lying and deceiving without involving Day. Month after month he would weave his words, a cocktail of truths, half-truths and bare lies, and month after month he would keep Day's name unspoken. He had thought that passing Ren's name to the Peacekeepers would be the final betrayal he would need to make, and then he and Day could be free. But what Kazimir hadn't realised until he woke up in the Capitol, just days before the Games that would likely end his life, was that he had already betrayed Day long ago.

There was an impressive breakfast laid across the table as Kazimir walked over to join Velaris, his escort and his mentor. Rubbing his eyes, though they had barely closed all night, Kazimir sat himself down beside Velaris, nodding in greeting to the girl who had been reaped beside him. The two of them had exchanged conversation on a number of occasions since the reaping, and Kazimir was beginning to form the opinion that despite her peculiarities, there were potential advantages to becoming friendly with his district partner. Velaris was reserved, but outspoken when desired, and Kazimir was almost certain that he had heard her name spoken on the streets of Twelve. Given the right amount of attention, she may prove a useful ally, and that hung in the forefront of Kazimir's mind as he poured her a cup of dark coffee.

Thanking him with a polite nod, Velaris took a sip of the coffee, which was a strikingly stark contrast against her deathly pale skin. Kazimir then poured himself a cup, wincing as his tongue dipped into the scalding liquid a little too soon.

"Right then kiddos," their mentor, Aella Castro, slapped her hands together with enthusiasm. "Day one of training –what are your plans?"

Kazimir cleared his throat. "I think I'll focus on some survival stations, mostly."

Aella nodded. "Sensible, I suppose. You'll want to make sure to dedicate at least a small portion of time to combat, though I'd recommend leaving that for the first day. Careers are bound to want to show off their weaponry skills the moment they step into that centre. I should know; that was once me."

"Remind me, Aella, how did you become the mentor for Twelve?" the ever-groaning voice of the escort Tula spoke.

"My natural charm and wit, of course," she replied cockily. "Besides, after bringing home last Games' Victor, I could hardly miss out on the action this year."

"Did Risa not kill both of the District Twelve tributes?" Kazimir recalled. "Seems a little ironic."

Aella opened her mouth to protest, before seeming to quickly change her mind.

"You two should hurry up and finish your breakfast," Aella switched the topic of conversation. "The training centre opens soon and you don't want to waste a single second. You'll need all you can get, by the looks of it."

Kazimir was half tempted to argue, but he supposed she was right. Aella Castro was used to mentoring Careers, not the pickings from the gutter like Kazimir.

After a small plateful of bacon, eggs and toast, which Kazimir decided was quite possibly his favourite meal in the world, the four of them made their way out of the apartment block and across to the training centre. According to Aella, the training centre had relocated, just as the parade had. All part of the new Head Gamemaker's 'vision', supposedly.

They were directed into a large cylinder building, where an elevator descended them so far down that Kazimir expected them to be underground. They were not underground, it seemed, as the daylight poured in from above them. But they were closed in from every other angle; the rest of the building acting like walls around them. It was teasing them; if Kazimir had wings then he could fly right on out of the place, but alas his feet were bound to the ground.

About half of the other tributes had arrived already; the Careers from One and Two and the pairs from Three, Five, Seven and Nine were gathered around a central podium. Much to Kazimir's approval, Velaris remained beside him as he joined the edge of the group, his eyes observing as he waited for the remaining the tributes to arrive.

After a few minutes, they did arrive, Kazimir already making mental notes of first impressions. The lead trainer, taking the podium, welcomed the group to the training centre and began a short introductory speech. Kazimir paid half attention to the words of the trainer as his eyes wandered the room. As expected, there were an array of different stations available: combat, agility and survival. Kazimir had already made the decision to entertain the survival stations first, where he could both pick up some essential skills and take an observatory stance, and as the speech wrapped up and the tributes begin to disband, his feet turned towards those stations.

"Do you want to stick together?" Kazimir asked Velaris, casually but with enough hope in his tone to show his interest. "Even just for the first couple of hours? Makes sense to stick with who you know before launching into anything, right?"

"You don't know me," replied Velaris with a coldness that chilled Kazimir's skin. "But I have nothing against training with you, so ok, where do you want to go first?"

"Plant identification could be a gentle start?" Kazimir suggested, his eyes having already made note of the central location of the station, which seemed to be able to provide a decent view of the rest of the centre.

Velaris shrugged. "Ok."

The two of them walked towards the station, which wasn't far from where they already were. A cluster of plants, like a slice of a forest, formed a pleasant contrast to the rest of the centre, which was largely man-made and rife with technology. Kazimir supposed that the plants themselves were probably technologically engineered by the Capitol as well, knowing how Gamemakers could create anything they desired in the arena, but it still felt like somewhat of a comfort to have something that at least seemed real in front of him.

The first hour passed by slowly. Kazimir and Velaris exchanged a few words of casual conversation, but it was clear that both of their minds were elsewhere. Kazimir had taken an observatory stance, using the plants as a partial cover to keep attention away from himself so that his eyes were free to roam.

Through his observations, Kazimir was able to begin forming a mental list of the competition. The Careers, of course, were the first immediate threats, though more so the Ones and Twos than the Fours, who seemed to be in worlds of their own. The boy from Ten who had volunteered also appeared rather vicious, as he brutally made light work of a number of training dummies with two small curved knives. And the Eleven boy appeared to have strength on his side as he lay across a bench, lifting a bar loaded with the equivalent weight of probably twice Kazimir's own bodyweight.

"Is this poisonous?"

Kazimir's heart jumped as he quickly pulled his gaze away from the other tributes. Velaris stood beside him, her fingers brushing against a bush. Pinching a berry between her thumb and forefinger, she plucked it from the bush, placing it on her tongue.

"I think so…" he started, his eyes widening as Velaris suddenly bit down on the berry, its dark juices squirting onto her lips.

Kazimir watched in silence as his district partner swallowed the berry.

"It's not, by the way," she confirmed. "Which you would know if you had paid any attention to this station –the station you wanted to go to, may I remind you. Look, I'm going to be blunt here, Kazimir. If we're going to be allies then I want someone who I can work with."

Kazimir couldn't help but admire her ruthless rationality.

"There's a reason I chose this station," Kazimir said to her, directing Velaris' gaze to the rest of the centre with a swooping hand.

Realising his intentions, Velaris nodded slowly. "I see. What do you see?"

Kazimir leant his head in a little closer to Velaris. "I see a fractured Career pack, and it's only just the first morning of training. See the two from One? The way they stand so close to each other shows that they were close before they even got here. The Twos are the opposite –notice how the guy seems to be always looking elsewhere? And then she seems to want to dominate; you can tell by the way she's showing off her combat skills and glancing back every few minutes to check if anyone is watching."

Velaris seemed intrigued.

"Then the Fours," Kazimir continued. "Twins for a start, so their allegiances will naturally lie with each other. She seems absent, it barely seems as though she's even aware of where she is. Then the other is just causing havoc, not taking anything seriously at all. Based on the reaping I'd say that one is taking some kind of drug, if not the both of them."

He carried on, enjoying the look on Velaris' face. "The young one, I'm not sure why she is even here. But it's clear that she hasn't trained –they'll likely ditch her, if she isn't smart and finds other allies first."

"Very interesting," Velaris pondered as Kazimir stepped back from her. "There's more to you than meets the eye, Kazimir Ilyushin."

Kazimir just smiled.

If only Velaris, or anyone, knew what truly lay beneath the surface of his words. Perhaps then they would sing a different song.

Ragnar Hellstorm, 18, District Two Male

"If I have to hear that fucking song one more time, I won't be held accountable for my actions."

Ragnar looked up from his hands, where he was slowly winding a wrap around his knuckles, covering the years of broken skin and bruised flesh. His district partner, Riddle, had a face that could challenge a thunderstorm as she came to stand beside him.

Riddle was referring to Cephus, of course, the eccentric member of the Career pack who was currently trying to encourage their allies to establish a casual choir. Ragnar wasn't quite sure what their deal was, other than that they probably should never have volunteered in the first place.

Hm, guess that's one thing we have in common.

Ragnar couldn't say that he entirely regretted volunteering for the Games, but he still resented having done so all the same. Of all his demons, his pride had proven the strongest, and its toxicity left a bitter taste in Ragnar's mouth even as he stood in the training centre of the Capitol, preparing himself for an arena he would never be truly prepared to face. Only, it wasn't the arena he was apprehensive about; it was which version of himself he would become after he stepped off the podium.

"I can't believe they let someone like that volunteer," Riddle continued, despite gaining no verbal response from Ragnar. "They offered me pills before, if you'd believe it."

Ragnar believed it. "Yeah, me too."

"She's just as useless too," Riddle scorned, rolling her eyes as she gestured towards the other half of Four, who was sat on the floor a fair distance from the other Careers, with her knees drawn into her chest, her cloudy eyes staring into nothing.

"Less competition, I guess," commented Ragnar.

"True," Riddle pondered. "Though I'd pick more reliable allies over disposable ones any day."

Ragnar was inclined to disagree, though he kept his thoughts to himself. In his mind, he was an individual unit; he was there to win and in a Game with only one winner, there was no space for allegiances. That being said, Ragnar also appreciated the benefits of others. As a resource, other tributes could aid him, and at such an early stage it would only be foolish to make enemies of the other Careers.

"Spar with me?" asked Riddle, beckoning Ragnar to join her as she walked towards a circular raised platform, retrieving her weapons from her earlier sparring session with one of the trainers.

Reluctantly, Ragnar followed, his lightweight shoes stepping onto the platform silently as he turned the handle of his warhammer slowly in his hands. Ragnar knew he could fight; he had been training both himself and others for a few years now; and he saw little point in using the limited time they had before the Games practising a skill he already possessed. But yet, as he had done so many times before, he did not back down from the challenge and accepted the request, preparing his stance as he stood across from Riddle.

"Interesting choice of weapon," Riddle observed, a flicker of a smile on her face as the two of them began to circle each other.

"I could say the same to you," he replied, taking note of the way the dual bladed weapons tucked in tightly along Riddle's toned forearms.

As his lips closed, Riddle made the first move. With a swift manoeuvre she closed the gap between them, bringing the blade of her left tonfa in an upwards sweep towards Ragnar's neck. In retaliation, Ragnar brought up his hammer, blocking the blade with the handle and then pushing his opponent a step backwards.

"Not bad," Riddle spoke as she darted to the side, making a second strike but this time at Ragnar's hip. He managed to dodge the attack, but only just in time, and he felt a light ripple of air disturb the cooling material of his sleeveless top.

Bored of evasion, Ragnar rose the stakes, choosing to make a counterstrike. Using his core strength, he turned sharply, bringing the hammer down at a forty-five degree angle. Not able to move out of the way quickly enough, Riddle crossed her weapons in front of her face, her arms tensing as she withstood the momentum that came from Ragnar's swing.

"Nice block," Ragnar found himself complimenting Riddle as the two of them separated their weapons. Noticing the relaxation in her shoulders, Ragnar suspected that Riddle was content with a draw, and as much as he enjoyed to win, the hours were passing by quickly and he had little time to chase fruitless victories.

As the two of them walked down from the platform, placing their weapons down as they stretched out their limbs, Ragnar found his eyes wandering towards the others in their alliance. Peach and Beau were at the next sparring station, their bodies moving simultaneously in an almost dance, as though both of their bodies and their souls were entwined. It was foreign to Ragnar, imagining being so close to a person that to be separated would be to lose a half of your own self. He had Marcella at home, whom Ragnar did believe he loved, but he could never perceive himself to be intrinsically linked to another human in the way Peach and Beau appeared to be. Was it a strength, or was it a weakness, he wondered?

Stood just on the outskirts of the sparring area, the unexpected member of the alliance watched the pair with both awe and apprehension. Frankie had barely spoken a word since Ragnar had first met her at the welcome party, though that came as no surprise. According to Peach, Frankie had been forced into the Games in a form of cruel punishment for her parents' actions, which didn't sit awfully well with Ragnar. He was well aware of punishment, having walked the path of revenge once before, though he believed that one must be held accountable for their own mistakes, and not the errors of another. Frankie appeared in all ways to be innocent and to some extent Ragnar felt sympathy towards her, but this was the Hunger Games and sentimentalities had no place here.

"What do you think about Frankie?" Riddle asked, as though reading Ragnar's mind.

"Haven't thought about her much," Ragnar replied shortly, taking a swig of water from his bottle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"She'll be dead weight," said Riddle with harsh words. "She hasn't done a single day of training, and Peach drags her around like a lost puppy. With Cephus and Circe in their own worlds, we can't afford to have Peach getting distracted as well."

"I wouldn't worry too much about Peach," Ragnar replied. "She seems to know what she's doing."

"Hm," Riddle's hands folded across her chest. "I'll have a word with her about Frankie. You coming?"

Ragnar glanced around the rest of the training centre. "Erm, no, I'll sit this one out."

"Fine," Riddle shrugged. "Catch you later."

As Riddle made her way across to Peach, who looked to be eagerly whispering something humorous in Beau's ear, judging by the small smirk that crept onto his lips, Ragnar took the opportunity of solitude to make his escape. Having spent the morning at the combat stations with the rest of the pack, Ragnar had been keen to spend his time doing something he considered far more valuable.

Walking across towards the circular training centre, Ragnar settled his mind on the water station and he approached it with enthusiasm. Another girl was at the station already, a number three clearly printed on her clothes. At the sight of Ragnar, she began to back away.

"No need to leave on my account," Ragnar held his hands up, palms facing outwards. "I'm just here to learn."

The girl seemed apprehensive.

"Honestly, I'm not here as a threat," he tried to reassure her. "Please, just carry on as you were."

Silently, the girl returned to the station, continuing to construct what appeared to be a basic filtration system. She did not seem to want to exchange conversation with Ragnar, and he could hardly blame her, so he simply struck up a conversation with one of the nearby trainers, asking for advice about locating sources of water in the arena.

After learning some useful tips, Ragnar wandered around to the next station, glancing over towards the rest of the Careers. Riddle was back to combat training in one of the simulations, whilst Peach seemed to be showing Frankie how to handle a weapon. Circe and Cephus were huddled together, though Ragnar doubted they were talking about anything that made any sense. Beau, however, was nowhere to be seen, which seemed intriguing but not too concerning for the time being. The boy from One didn't seem to be one for many words; seemingly choosing the ones he did speak with care. That didn't bother Ragnar too much; he wasn't one for words much himself either, though the group overall were clearly not up to Riddle's standards. It didn't surprise Ragnar at all that she had been a trainer in the Academy back home.

Settling himself at the traps station, Ragnar began to copy one of the example traps that had been laid out, his fingers working the thin rope fairly successfully.

An enthused giggle caught his attention as he slid a loop of rope around a short stick. Looking up out of curiosity, Ragnar's eyes fell on two tributes, who seemed to be finding their situation hilarious. Upon closer inspection, Ragnar slowly drifting away from his own trap, he noticed that they were the two from Five, the red-haired girl particularly entertained by her ally, who was hopping on one foot and shaking the other.

"Aida, dude, what did you do?" the boy laughed, unable to free his shoe which appeared to be somehow attached to the trap they had constructed. "I'm stuck, man!"

The girl –Aida- cackled, throwing her head back as she relished in her handiwork.

"If you'd been paying more attention you'd have noticed me hooking that into your shoe," she shook her head, still refusing to help her district partner to free himself. "Come on, you can get out of that, surely?"

"I think I'd be Career breakfast by now," the boy joked darkly, before suddenly noticing Ragnar's nearing presence. "Oh shit."

Aida spun around, her eyes widening in surprise as she looked up at Ragnar. She rose to her feet, taking a step backwards.

"Nice job there," Ragnar complimented, trying his best not to seem intimidating. He wasn't seeking out allies, but he saw little point in acting aggressively towards other tributes, at least not whilst they remained in the Capitol.

"Um, thanks?" Aida seemed surprised with his comment.

"Aida, right? I'm Ragnar," he offered her a smile. "From Two."

"Yeah, it says on your shirt," replied Aida, her words sprinkled with light sarcasm. "That gold number two just above your chest there –kinda gives it away."

Ragnar glanced down at his shirt for a moment. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"I'm Phoenix, by the way," the lad stepped forwards; he must have given up trying to disable the trap as a shoe was missing from one of his feet. "Cool tats, bro."

"Oh, thanks," Ragnar looked at his inked arms. "My girlfriend is an apprentice at a tattoo parlour back at home –she uses my skin to practise on."

"She's pretty good," Phoenix seemed impressed, his large brown eyes scanning over Ragnar's arms. "I'd love a tattoo, I think I'd get a phoenix right across my chest."

Aida rolled her eyes. "How did I know you'd say that?"

"Because it's a wicked idea and you know I'm awesome?"

"Awesome is pushing it," she replied with a smirk. "Should we practise with some knives like we agreed? It's getting late in the afternoon now."

"Yeah sure," Phoenix shrugged, then looked back towards Ragnar. "Hey, nice chattin' to ya. See you around, bro."

Ragnar nodded politely, watching as Aida hooked her arm around Phoenix's, pulling him along beside her. He wasn't sure whether the two of them had met before the Reapings, but they seemed to get along nonetheless.

As the two of them moved further away, Ragnar suddenly noticed that Phoenix's shoe was still attached to the trap. Crouching down beside it, Ragnar began to untangle the contraption, eventually managing to free the shoe.

The two from Five were now at one of the weapons stations, attempting to throw knives at some targets. Not too far from them, the rest of the Careers remained. Ragnar supposed he'd spent enough time away from them for the time being; he should probably return before Riddle had something to say about it. He was sure she'd have something to say about it anyway, but he thought it best to keep her on side for the time being.

If Ragnar could limit the threats around him that would allow him more time to manage the largest threat of them all: himself.

Angora Winchester, 18, District Eight Female

There were threats everywhere.

But Angora was not just thinking about her opponents who filled the training centre, burying weapons into the hollow chests of dummies and displaying impressive physical abilities across the various stations available; she was thinking about the greatest threat of them all.

The Capitol.

Angora had not stepped even a toe into the arena and she already felt their ominous presence. The trainers had insisted that there were no cameras in the centre; that the tributes should feel relaxed to try their best and learn what they could in the safety of privacy. But Angora knew that you didn't need cameras to watch; all you needed were eyes that could see.

Camera footage could be deleted, but memories were permanent.

Not long into the first day of training, Angora's wandering eyes had spotted gentle flickers around the edges of the centre, where the walls encased them within its cylindrical enclosure. The walls appeared to be opaque at a surface glance, but after some subtle eavesdropping on a handful of trainers, Angora had learned that the walls were simply an illusion and in fact behind them sat rows upon rows of spectators. Mentors and Gamemakers kept their watchful eyes upon the tributes below them, but they were not alone in their observations. It seemed as though viewing bays were also open to members of the public –at a steep price, no doubt.

That critical piece of information did not come as much of a shock to Angora; having slid between the ranks of the elites herself, she was well aware of the desire of knowledge and the lengths people would go to possess it. Having an early insight into the capabilities of tributes would undoubtedly influence betting odds, which would in turn present opportunities to further the stinking wealth many Capitolites already bathed in. As sickening as the thought was, knowing that they were simply pieces of entertainment in which to profit from, Angora knew better than to allow the benefit of the knowledge go to waste. And so, she decided she would do what she could to draw just the right amount of attention to herself. Enough for her face to be remembered, but less so her name.

It wasn't too dissimilar to her life back in Eight, all things considered. When stripped back to the bare bones of reality, Angora Winchester may have touched the tongues of many, though her name had not.

Angora had spent the majority of her first day of training gathering as much useful information as she could, as well as strengthening her own skills. She was certain that she desired allies; the protection they could offer her may prove invaluable, at least for a large portion of her time in the arena. But she would be careful with her selection, as far as her natural charisma would allow her.

The Careers were tempting, with their skills nearly unmatched, though Angora doubted her success in engaging with them. The duo from One were far too close to each other and the pair from Two seemingly impenetrable, whilst the twins from Four were a story Angora was wary to read. The boy from Three had caught Angora's attention, though his serious demeanour made him difficult to approach. Angora had considered approaching the tall boy from Eleven, and was still watching him as the afternoon drew on, taking in the way his brute strength contrasted with his kind eyes.

"Oh fuck," a male voice suddenly cursed behind her, taking Angora by surprise. She turned around, spotting a handsome boy with tousled brown hair staring in dismay at a mostly empty glass of water, a puddle gathered around his feet.

"Two left feet?" Angora laughed lightly, shifting her weight so that her hip jutted out slightly to the side to draw attention to her athletic figure.

"Last time I checked, I believe I had one right and one left," replied the boy with a grin. "But perhaps I was wrong. Or just distracted."

"By the view?" Angora teased, her lip curving into a small smile.

The boy's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Well I have no complaints."

Angora's fingers began to twirl a piece of her dark hair between them as she stepped a little closer to the boy. A number six presented itself clearly against the tight fitting material that stretched across his chest.

"I can't complain too much about the view either," she returned playfully.

A sharp cough cut their conversation short.

"Oh hi Anise," the boy smiled as a girl approached, placing herself deliberately between him and Angora. Her dark eyes addressed Angora coldly, her lips pursing tightly.

"This is…" the boy looked towards Angora.

"Angora Winchester," she replied confidently. "District Eight."

"A pleasure," Anise responded, though her words were void of truth. "We'd better be getting back to training, though, so perhaps we'll catch up later, Angora Winchester from District Eight."

"Oh, I'm sorry but I spilt most of the water," the boy then apologised, gesturing to one of the glasses in his hand. "But I don't mind if you want the fuller glass; I'll just get some more later."

"No that's ok," replied Anise sweetly, sliding her arm between his. "We can share. A glass is not the only thing we've shared, right?"

With a cutting smile that could have sliced Angora's throat right there and then, Anise sharply turned, pulling her ally along with her. He offered Angora a friendly nod and she wiggled her fingers in an amicable wave, watching as Anise directed him to a station far away from Angora's current stance.

It would be ironic and somewhat hypocritical for Angora to judge Anise in a negative manner when she herself was all too familiar with those exploits, so she reserved judgement and instead returned to the combat section of the training centre. Angora may have desired to seek allies for protection, but she would not allow herself to become reliant on a factor she could not entirely control.

Wandering past the endless rows of weapon racks, careful not to draw too close to the Careers, Angora's fingertips settled on a pair of knives. Plucking them from the rack, Angora closed her hands around the handles, somewhat nervous about holding a deadly blade and even more so about the thought of using it. Angora hoped she would never need to take the life of another, but in the situation she found herself to be in, she would only be naïve not to consider the tangible possibility of that scenario arising in the near future.

She began with a few basic moves, ensuring to maintain as strong a stance as she could as she swept the knives in front of her. As Angora approached a solid training dummy in front of her, she clenched her fists, plunging the blades into the centre of the chest, a little surprised by the sensation that rippled through her forearms.

"Try a more relaxed angle."

Slowly, Angora withdrew the knives from the chest of the dummy, turning her head to see Valak, the boy from Ten, who was stood with his arms folded across his chest.

"If you strike at that angle you'll strain your wrist and you may lose half of the strength you're putting into it," he told her. "Try to relax yourself."

Taking his advice, Angora repeated her steps, though she adopted a more favourable angle as she brought the knives towards their target. Valak's words appeared to hold some worth as the strike felt smoother and more effective.

"Thank you," she said, pulling out the knives and holding them in her hands, just below her own chest.

"You're welcome," replied Valak smoothly. "I do believe I owe you an apology after last night."

"Oh, last night?" Angora said casually, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I've already forgotten."

"And there was me hoping that you'd remember my face," said Valak, with what Angora believed to be a smile.

"Perhaps you should make the most of your opportunity at a fresh first impression," Angora suggested with a slight shrug, turning back to the dummy to continue her training. It was enough to keep the boy interested, it seemed, as he drew closer.

Feeling his body heat radiating against the bare skin of her arm, Angora remained focused as she continued to practise her new technique, striking the dummy in a more controlled manner. Valak said nothing as he stood close beside her, before he decided to leave, unannounced and almost leaving Angora frustrated at falling for a one-trick pony for a second time.

However, this time Valak returned.

"Why don't you give these a try?" he suggested, holding two weapons towards her. They were weapons Angora was unfamiliar with; handles about the length of her forearm with a curved blade at the top.

"What are they?" she asked, curious as she left the knives imbedded in the dummy.

"Kamas, I believe the label below them stated," Valak informed her. "I think you'll be able to manage more power with these."

Taking the kamas, Angora followed Valak's instruction as he guided her through a series of steps. Whilst it didn't feel natural to be wielding weapons, preparing for the strong possibility of actually using them against someone, Angora felt with each minute that passed that she was slowly edging the odds a little further towards her favour.

It wasn't much, but every step would be a step closer to home, and if she tried hard enough then maybe, just maybe, she would make it back to her brother.

A/N

A new training centre for the return of the Games; Selene is really starting to put her stamp on the Games as the new Head Gamemaker. What other changes may she have up her sleeve?

Kazimir is thinking about his past, though despite his betrayals, he still feels like he isn't solely to blame. Is he a victim, or is he simply denying his true nature? In the training centre, he takes an observatory stance and notes the fractured state of the Career pack. Do you think the Careers are as separated as Kazimir believes? Do you see his alliance with Velaris becoming permanent, or are the foundations too weak?

A little look closer into the Career pack shows how things look from District Two's perspective. Riddle seems doubtful of the others and seems to want to take control before things can fall apart -will she succeed in taking a leading role, or are the Careers too different from each othe to work as a team? Ragnar then splits off to focus on some survival skills; what are his intentions for the arena and where will that leave his allies, or other tributes?

Finally, Angora is seeking allies to help strengthen her position. She discovers that the tributes are in fact being watched without their knowledge and seeks to use this for her advantage. Will watching the tributes train have an impact on the actions of sponsors? After a brief encounter with Accel, it is clear that he and Anise are sticking together after where we left them in the previous chapter, and it seems as though Anise wishes to keep things that way. Angora then reconnects with Valak, who after his revelation about Cathy appears a lot more put together. What are his true motivations, and should Angora be wary of her training partner?

As always, thank you all for the incredible support. I appreciate you all so much, and to have reached over 100 reviews already means so much to me! I'm so pleased that you are enjoying the story so far, and I cannot wait to continue exploring the arcs I have planned for this incredible cast.

Speaking of incredible cast, I can finally reveal the poll results (those on discord will have already seen this, of course). The most popular tributes are, as follows:

1st: Cephus Sirona

2nd: Peach Bellini

3rd: Ragnar Hellstorm

4th: Beau Ducreme and Lunete Vinter

5th: Circe Sirona and Anise Montague

6th: Sayuri Novem, Cameron Alcatraz and Logan Brightberd

7th: Riddle Robello, Matthew Kwon, Zoei 'Aida' Jones, Phoenix Cameron, Moonshine le Gris, Olivette 'Livvy' Beauchene, Aldo Giotti, Cathedrite 'Cathy' Zhuang, Velaris Axar and Kazimir Illyushin

Congrats to ladyqueerfoot, the submitter of Cephus, for winning the poll! It didn't come as much of a surprise, Cephus is such a wild tribute who attracts a lot of love. As I've already mentioned, there will be the opportunity to send a sponsor gift once things kick off in the arena, and more chances to send sponsor gifts may arise in the future for other readers/submitters! Thanks to everyone for voting! I will likely do another poll at the end of the pregames; if you have any suggestions of poll questions you'd like me to ask then let me know!

The next chapter will be the second day of training, where more alliances may form and fun encounters will be had!

Until next time!

Firefly