After being escorted to the long hallway with all of the tributes loading up on their chariots, I took a look around while I still could. There wasn't much time for me to look at the Capitol because of all of the rush. Every minute, we are rushed to do things to help my outcome in the arena and I can't help but think that we need to stop and smell the roses every once in a while. Even though I still don't have much of an opinion on the Capitol citizens, it's still nice to look at everything that they have created. It would be a shame to let this opportunity go to waste just because the people that are against us happen to also be from this place. My eyes, however, were also distracted by something else. A couple of the tributes that happen to be loading themselves up onto their chariots also shoot me strange glances. Have they already branded me as an enemy? It's hard to tell, but it looks as if they're staring at not just me, but the rest of the tributes. "Those are the careers," I can hear Amawrath coming up behind me and pointing them out.
"Is that why they're staring?"
"Yep, they're already trying to get to know you."
"How can they know what I'm like if they get one look?"
"Oh, no. They're just looking for an easy target."
"But the game... It hasn't even started yet."
"For them, the game started a long time ago."
It only takes me a minute to understand what Amawrath could mean. My mind seemed boggled, but I wasn't. Almost instantaneously, I realize that she means that the careers are more brutal than I am; more strong. To them, the rest of the tributes are lunch meat because they do not have the training that they have. I, myself, might have some potential because of my occupation in District Nine. However, tributes from districts like eight and five are very weak compared to them. Tributes from those districts have likely been working in factories their entire lives and may not be used to being outside all that much. What could a District Eight tribute do? Knit someone to death? I, however, have some useful skills that I can use in the arena. Basic plant identification, for one, because of the long hours I spend outdoors and in the fields. Or, spent. I am still adamant on the fact that I will likely die, but I have yet to know. Maybe the odds will be in my favor this year.
Spinning around, I take a glance at Amawrath, "You're right." I agree with her, about to talk to her about the careers to see if she knows anything about them at all, but a familiar figure begins to walk towards me from behind Amawrath. "Sheave?" I say, instinctively, looking at the girl as she approaches. Covered head to toe, like me, in golden body dye along with golden underwear and golden hair dye to blend in with her skin was Sheave. Unlike me, she seems a little happy to be someone that she's not; to be pretending. I, however, seem phased by the fact that she's standing there nonchalantly, allowing these people to turn her into something that she is not. Or, maybe she is just being who she is. She is fascinated by everything Capitol. To her, even their way of life is interesting. While it is, I'm not happily consuming everything that I've taken in.
Something else I notice, however, is her complete lack of a back pack like the one that I have around my shoulders. It's supposed to blend in with the skin of the person whom is wearing it, but she doesn't seem to have one at all. How strange. Is this backpack specifically meant only for me? I'll find out soon enough. "You look... stunning," I prod, wondering what I could actually say to her. She is a beautiful girl, but I prefer her appearance behind all of the make up, glitz, and glamour better.
"Thanks, Auger!" Her eyes light up like the moon and I finally see something familiar. It's a haunting presence that I see. It's dark, but childish and innocent all the time. Even though the girl is a year older than me, a chill goes down my spine. Comparing her to Cradle just became easier. I am filled with another realization: she's completely oblivious of the world. She accepted my compliment without hesitation. She may have thought that she was immune from the reaping, but now that she is here she seems very glad to have been reaped in the first place. Poor child.
Amawrath chimes into the conversation, "Are you ready, you two?"
I quickly respond, "Give me a second." My eyes flicker across the hallway. I can barely hear Amawrath respond to me.
"I'll see you both in thirty minutes on the other side." Amawrath walks away as calm as can be, entering one of the doors in the hallway. Likely, she was going to walk across the seating arrangement where people would be cheering for us to get to where the mentors and stylists were going to meet up with us at the end.
Sheave, however, seems ready and willing to get on the chariot already. I didn't notice that she was looking at me as I examined the hallway again, watching the first pair of tributes load into their chariot.
"Is there something wrong?"
Did she just ask me if I was alright? I turn and look at her in disbelief. I'm not sure what the say, but I give her a smile that seems a little whimsical and examine again, is there something wrong? Yes and no. This is a strange experience for me and so new, but she acts as if this is something that she has done before; something that she is used to.
"It's... just a lot to take in."
We both fell silent for a moment as the second pair of tributes ride out into the narrow space with all of the Capitol citizens clapping and cheering for them. We still have a ways to go before we actually have to go out there, but I wonder, if only for a second, whether I'm ready for this journey. After all, it's only one step closer to my death, isn't it?
"What do you mean, Auger?" Her voice calls out to me as I stare at the exit that the chariots are supposed to go through.
"You should know."
"But I don't."
I could simply excuse her from this conversation if I want to, but I don't. I am aware that she is ignorant, but I feel as if that does not make a difference, "But you should."
She looks as if she contemplates this for a second, seeming a little distressed, "But I don't, Auger." I glare at her intensely.
"Don't you find this a little weird, Sheave?"
"What?"
"The Capitol, the dressing up, the people... Isn't this strange to you?"
"How can it be strange?"
"I don't follow what you're saying, Sheave. How isn't it strange?"
It takes a second for her to respond, "Because they're like us."
It takes all that I have inside of me, in my soul, to not get angry with her. How are they like the people of District Nine or any other district for that matter? "They maim and kill us, Sheave! They do whatever it takes to kill us and they show us no mercy."
"What?" My stare only intensifies as she says the word again, "That's not true, Auger."
"Yes, it is. They sit on their asses during games and watch us die. They sponsor their favourite tributes to kill their least favorite tributes. All of it is a game to them."
"No, it's not!" I can see tears welling up in her eyes, "Do you think they have any other choice besides this? What else could they do, Auger? Even if they did care, what the hell could they do about the games? They've been raised in a society that teaches that it is alright to watch kids die in an arena for their sake! They're just as brainwashed as all of us."
"I know they're brai-" My speech dwindles because she continues speaking to me, yelling at me with all of the force that she might have.
"Do you, Auger? Have you ever stopped to think about it?" No, I haven't. I've never stopped to think about it. A pang runs through me like an arrow to the heart. Suddenly, I look hurt, "You're acting like they don't care, Auger. If they didn't care, they would never send sponsors to some of the tributes! You said it yourself, they like to sponsor tributes that they like. If they like a tribute, they care about them. These people aren't different from you and me because they have people they care about to! We wouldn't send children into an arena, no, but are they the ones in charge of the country? No. A man named Cornelius Snow is the President of Panem, not them. Stop making them all out to be villains, Auger." She moves over to her side of the chariot and climbs in. I didn't even notice while we were talking that we were the two tributes that were supposed to go next, but Sheave surely did. While she climbed on top of the chariot, she hid her anger well behind a smile, as did I. No, actually. My anger wasn't actually anger. It was embarrassment; embarrassment from yet another realization. She was right about what she said to me, right about everything. While they are our enemy, they are not the villains that we make them out to be. I have always been aware that they are brainwashed, every single one of them, but... I have never taken the time to analyze it or to logically think about it. Sheave, however, is the one who helped me come to this sudden realization. Until now, I thought that she was completely ignorant of the world around her. Maybe, however, she's more dangerous than she lets off. I can't be sure until we're fighting to the death. I take one final look around and muster an apology to her as I board the chariot.
Even though she still seems angry, she accepts the apology and the chariot begins to move forward and out of the building. Instantaneously, I can see swarms of people in their seats beginning to cheer for us as they had cheered for the tributes that went before us. Some of the pairs of tributes are already gathered around the area, in a circle, where President Snow is standing. In his young age, President Snow is one of the healthiest officials in Panem. He looks to be twenty, but with all of the make up and surgeries that the citizens of Panem wear, I wouldn't be surprised if he is actually older. As our chariot moves forward, I look at my District Partner. Yes, she's still mad, but she happens to be waving at the Capitol citizens, something that I have yet to do. My hand shoots straight up into the air, and as if on cue, my backpack begins to move. Triggered by movement? How clever. For a moment, I am frightened by the movement in my backpack, until it actually activates. Raining down upon us, coming from what felt like a miniature explosion inside of the backpack, is golden glitter that showers not only us, but the area around us and even the Capitol citizens in the front row that happen to be watching. "Did you know about that?"
Sheave smiles, watching the glitter float down to the both of us and into the crowd of Capitol citizens. Occasionally, she catches some in between her finger tips and looks at it wistfully while she waves, "I actually had no idea what it was going to do." The boom of gold glitter had actually exceeded my expectations. I can already see some of the Capitol citizens looking at me in Sheave in wonder about my stylist's choice. However, something occurs to me. Because of this beautiful display, I am now a threat to everyone. Public enemy number one. Why? Because it's likely that I might actually have a sponsor or two in the arena, a sponsor that might have been sponsoring someone else originally. Now must be when the games start for real. Everything that I do will be important from here on out.
In no time, the chariots are all lined up around the Capitol circle where President Snow stands in front of his pedestal. "Welcome, tributes!" Preparing for the small speech that I hear every Hunger Games from here, except this time in person, I stare at him dauntlessly, "We salute your courage and your sacrifice. And we wish you happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour!" Up close, he is exactly like he looks like on TV and his voice is louder than any other voice I have ever heard. The chariots begin to move before I begin to think too much about it and all of the tributes are soon wheeled by our horses into a building just past the Capitol circle. All of the tributes, including myself and Sheave, get off of our chariots and our greeted by our stylists. Most others have their mentors, but mine and Sheave's stylists are the only people that come to greet us. Sheave moves over to talk to her stylist, who I recognize by her long eyelashes and her actually normal-toned skin. However, her name escapes me. However, Iunius brings me over to the side of the chariot that I have just rode in.
"Nice performance out there, Auger."
"Thanks, Iunius. I couldn't have done any of that without you, you know. That was a really great design. And the glitter... I think it won over the Capitol citizens," I smiled, refraining from actually complimenting some of the style that he gave me simply because of my preconceived notions of the Capitol and its residents, but anyone could tell that I am now trying to keep an open mind about all of this after my own district partner argued with me about it, "Where's Amawrath?"
"She decided that she didn't want to come. She has some things to do, like preparing your room."
"And Caligula?"
"He's doing the same. He's trying to make your trip a very enjoyable one. He wants you to enjoy the next two weeks before you head off into the arena."
"Should have figured."
I stare at him while he speaks, a frown creeping up on my face. It's a serious frown, however, and not sad at all, "Tomorrow is going to be a big day for you. While I'm not your mentor, I am your stylist. Tomorrow marks the day that you have training sessions with the rest of the tributes, all in the same room. My advice? Get to know the other tributes."
"... Why?"
"Things that you learn about them might help you a lot in the arena, kid," And suddenly, he's taking something out from his pocket, "Open your hands."
I move my hands into a cradling position, letting Iunius drop something into both palms. It's my locket, "How did you..."
"I swiped it off of you during our styling session," A grin forms on his face. I didn't even notice that it was gone until now and now that I have the locket back, I put the locket around my neck, "Who are those people?"
I didn't mind the way that he perceived things or the way that he asked who the people who were forever captured in my locket were. A smile formed, the corners of my mouth edging quietly like a cat prowling to find its prey, "Those people... They're my parents." I explain, almost as if I'm about to tell a long story, but I try not to go into too much detail, "I never knew anything about them. I heard they died after I was born. The people in District Nine, though, don't have connections with family. Kids like me usually live together in cabins and work in the fields for people like you." If anyone was able to get their hands on basic human history, the people of District Nine are quite like slaves on plantations. We are gathered up into houses and, in a way, forced to work to be able to survive. We are not technically forced to work or even indentured, but not working costs you your life because it's likely that you will be very hungry without the food that workers are able to get. In a district like mine, it's one for one, not all for one or one for all. No one works for others. Children under the age of seven, maybe. When a child hits seven, however, they are eligible to work in the fields.
Iunius seems as if he can't say anything else, but he speaks in good terms anywhom, "I'm sorry about your folks."
"It's alright."
"Now, would you like to see your room?" Iunius offers, watching Sheave walk towards a nearby elevator with her stylist. The elevator opens and Sheave and her stylist walk inside. The elevator whisks them both away, likely to the tenth floor. I take a look at the tributes before I begin walking over to the elevator. A couple of tributes that stand out are the boy from District Six, tall with blond hair that looks slightly unnatural, the careers of District Four that look almost related with their dusty brown hair, freckles, and pale skins, and finally, the District Eight boy because of his youth and his innocence. They must have played off the innocence angle for his costume because they dressed him up as a cherub with a wide variety of textiles complete with a halo floating just off the top of his head. Capitol gadgetry sure can be beautiful. Iunius and I both enter the elevator, allowing him to click the button that would bring us to the tenth floor. Minutes pass and we arrive. As I expected with this floor being completely dedicated to District Nine, the walls are lined with gold and the furniture seems old and mostly wooden. The lights that hang from the ceiling are a mixture of Capitol and District Nine, stylized in the form of grain hanging from the ceiling.
I look stunned. Even though I do not enjoy the Capitol style, I look at the room in levels of astonishment. Admiration, even. The room, just the first one, is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Iunius notices this quickly and grabs my hand, leading me out of the first room and into the second. A kitchen. Two avoxes, slaves to the Capitol, stand near the dining table in the large kitchen, ready to serve. Sheave currently sits at the dining table, that happens to be made out of pure gold, eating white meat which resembles fish. Amawrath is on the opposite side, picking the meat off of chicken bones and Caligula is eating a large portion of food in a delicate manner. "I actually don't want anything," I quickly clarify this fact and stare at Iunius before he's about to walk to the table, "Where are the bedrooms?"
"Just past the kitchen," Iunius continues his walk to the table to get some of the lovely food that happens to be there, "Down the hall, the door to your left is your room."
I trudge down the hallway. I am a little hungry and ready for nourishment, but I don't want to have to eat around everyone else, not now. I know that I need rest. Before I leave to train tomorrow, I will have to eat, but right now the rest that I also happen to need is more important. My body moves into the hallway and I shuffle into the left room that Iunius said was my room. I move my hand, flicking on the light and closing the door behind me, taking in the room. Gold, just like the rest of the rooms, filled this room as well. However, swirls with their tips painted like heads of grain were painted on the walls. From the ceiling hung similar lights to the first room, but in a larger quantity. The lamps also look as if they would move if someone or something touched them. To the right, I see a door leading to my bedroom's bathroom. I've never had my own bathroom before. Before I looked around my bedroom, my first instinct is to go into the bathroom and look at its wonders, which I do. The toilet and the shower are both as golden as can be, but the rest of the room is a dull white to match most of the more official buildings of the Capitol. Taking a walk out, I glance over at the bed. The sheets are, again, golden, much like everything else. The bed looks amazing, to be honest, and very comfortable. This is confirmed when I slip over to the bed, crawling under the sheets that feel soft and warm on my skin. I've been half naked all day, in only my underwear. The backpack that I had on previously had slipped off of my back when I was in the elevator and I never even noticed. An Avox would likely take care of that. I, however, only cared about the pillows and the bed that I lay down on, that I rest on now. Tucking myself in and letting the warmth hit my cold body, from all the exposure that I've gotten today, I simply drift off into a sleep induced dream, letting myself be free for the first time time in almost a day, or what I can consider freedom. I can feel my body beginning to go numb, as if I'm about to lucid dream.
But nothing. My night will be filled with the thoughts inside my head and maybe a single dream. Nothing more, nothing less. No lucidity.
