A Debt Owed
Chapter III
Aquarius and I are hurriedly ushered towards the Justice Building; Seria an arm looped around each of our shoulders.
He grins at me, mostly ignoring Aquarius much to the blue-eyed boy's annoyance.
"Marvellous – simply brilliant, great stuff for the camera – simply fabulous!" he congratulates me over and over again as though it were a planned performance I had just enacted.
I suppose it was – a long overdue one in any case.
As we enter the huge white solemn building with its columns peacekeepers direct us down a hallway, separating us into two different rooms so our families may give final advice and wish us luck.
I snort at the idea in amusement, going to stand over by the window.
There are none who will be here to see me.
Tempest would rather tackle Ruby and tie Elson up than let them give me a last few minutes comfort. She will aim to steal everything from me as she feels I have now done to her.
Standing at the window brings me none of the calm I had been hoping for. My gaze is irretrievably drawn to the ocean, the huge white building.
~x~x~x~
"Mama!"
Her head snaps around at the impatient cry, white blonde hair caught in a sea breeze so it billows out around her like a halo.
Tempest nudges me in the ribs with a bony elbow, "go on," she hisses. Tempest didn't always have a voice – I had been her voice once.
"Mama," I pipe up seriously, "is that white building where they put all the cowards?"
At first her face is so angry, her silver-blue eyes so cross I fear she'll strike me.
But she doesn't, the expression dims, lessens.
"Who told you that?"
Tempest hides behind me, nudging me forward with wide grey eyes.
"All the kids at school," I tell her eagerly, "they say that's where they put all the cowards."
The last of the anger dissolves from my mother's features and she kneels down in the sand, a half-smile quirking her lips, "come here," her voice is soft but the command is irrefutable.
I inhale deeply before walking, Tempest clutching my hand until we are standing in front of our mother, the waves rushing in with a quiet roar.
"Do you believe that all those in the white building are cowards?" her silver-blue gaze flickers to Tempest before settling on me expectantly.
Tempest leans forward, whispering her answer in my ear.
"Not all," I answer, swallowing determinately.
My mother gives a slight chuckle at that as she reaches out a long-fingered hand to flick at our identical white-blond pigtails with a doting smile.
"Do you believe Serenity is a coward?" she asks us seriously.
I remember the flame of indignation that flares in me as she asks it; how could she possibly think that?
Tempest steps forward, finally finding her voice in the face of such audacity, "we could never think that Mama!" Tempest declares vehemently in a tiny voice.
"She's our sister!" I add, "Haywires are Victors – always. We are never cowards," I puff out my bony ribcage further in pride and a smile caught between sadness and amusement pulls at my mother's lips.
"You are your father's daughter alright," my mother remarks with a fond smile as she pokes me in the stomach playfully.
I had never been more proud.
~x~x~x~
I tear myself away from the window, angry at myself for indulging in fleeting pointless memories of a time long gone.
But really it's the hesitant knock at the door before someone peeks their head in that disturbs me.
I am both surprised and not at the sight of Tally's red hair.
She steps into the room awkwardly, clearing her throat.
I don't know why she has come to see me, our friendship if that's what it is never extended this far.
"So you volunteered, eh?"
I arch an impatient brow at her; this is worse than me trying to start a conversation with my lunatic mother and at least I have an excuse – the slightest trigger can cause my mother to become a violent attacker that doesn't recognise her own daughter.
Tally draws a pattern on the floor with her shoe.
"Tally?" I prompt – really this is getting ridiculous.
Her gaze snaps up – she scowls – blushes.
"I-I have a token for you," she admits, mumbling so badly I have to strain to hear her at all.
I blink at her – "token?"
"Yea token," she sighs irascibly, "I figured your folks wouldn't be bringing you one."
I can't quite tell if there is a vindictive quirk to her lips when she says it or not.
I look to her expectantly and she fumbles for another moment in her pocket before taking it out.
At first I think it is a piece of string and I begin to scowl darkly, until my gaze focuses and I see it more clearly.
It is thick, about the width of my finger and it's a dark braid twisted in some intricate shape. I, of course recognise the material instantly; it's the same one I gave to Tally to bind the hilts of her knives with to give her better grip, and now she's taken some of it, braided it together and made…
"What is it?" I ask her bluntly.
Her expression falls slightly as she glowers for a moment, "it's for your hair," she clarifies and I arch a brow at her.
She wastes no time in going behind me, stretching to stand taller and gathering up my braid she uses her own braided invention to twist it into place, making sure my hair is held tightly and neatly at the back of my skull.
Despite myself I feel a slight smile tug at my lips as Tally steps in front of me once more to meet my gaze as she smirks knowingly, "I was going to give it to you anyway, I was sick of watching you get dragged around like a puppy," the arrogance seeping back into her voice, though for once I don't mind it so much.
Silence falls in the small room; it's not that there is nothing to say, I can see the questions clear as day on Tally's face.
For a moment she strains forward and I'm sure she'll ask but…"bye Storm."
"I'm coming back you know."
I don't know what made me say it. I'd say pride, because I can see the doubtful look in Tally's eyes, but I haven't had any reason to feel any semblance of that emotion in a very long time.
She pauses at the door, hand clutching the handle, back to me – she's tense I realise.
"Storm…" her voice is quiet, and without its usual mocking challenge to it.
I thought I had long heard every insult, every possible spiteful and hurtful jibe there was to hear, but…
"You should have just let Tempest go instead."
The hurtful stab lasts but a second, before the red cloud of anger descends.
Tally opens the door, but I'm at her side in a second slamming it shut again.
She looks up at me, isn't quick enough to mask her fearful expression.
She's pinned between my towering frame and the door.
"And why's that Tally?" I snarl.
I can see the answer burning on her tongue, her eyes silently screaming it.
Because you're a coward Storm.
I smash my arm against her throat, pressing down hard on her windpipe, because I can't bear to hear it – not from her, not from Tally.
I have seen Tally cry again and again each time she got beat in the fighting pit – Tally has never seen me cry; she shouldn't be able to call me that, she shouldn't be able to make me feel like the…coward.
I am the stronger one, the faster one – it's not enough.
And there's my father's face all over again.
I release her, feeling suddenly sick.
Tally slides down the door, slumping over on the ground, coughing harshly as she clutches at her throat.
I don't know if she says something or not, I'm blocking her out by that stage – her and her horrendous hacking gulping breaths - I tell myself it's not regret that makes me do it.
I have too much regret to be piling more on now.
She had only come to give me a token…
When I look around, she's already gone and the Peacekeepers are waiting to take me to the train.
…
The peacekeeper's unyielding grasp doesn't leave my elbow as he directs me out the back of the Justice Building, out into the weak sunlight to where the silver bullet Capitol train sits waiting.
I flex my shoulders, throwing the peacekeeper a look of mild annoyance. His only response is to tighten his hold.
Anger hisses for a second before a grim sneer curls my upper lip that stings slightly and I realise that Tempest's fists must have caught me during the fight; though the adrenaline most likely numbed me to it.
And that is exactly the reason the peacekeeper's hold is so tight on my elbow.
What has he seen of me – what has Panem seen of me?
A girl that would fight her own twin sister for the chance to kill; I'm dangerous, I'm deadly. Good.
Aquarius is already on the platform when I reach it.
He's flexing his muscles and grinning almost manically into the cameras and the reporters are greedily lapping it up.
However when they see me, they come bounding over eagerly and I am hit with a tsunami of questions; Tempest's name features quite regularly amongst the garbled chaos, even Tally's name is given a few mentions…then, Serenity.
My face freezes, my throat tightens until it burns and I realise that I've stopped breathing.
For a lost moment I'm that cowardly girl I was two years ago and I hate myself for it. I look up, searching for the comforting presence of him to ground me.
"That's enough questions for now."
But it's not my father, but Anderson who speaks gruffly to the overzealous reporters, nudging me forward with a grunt.
I stride towards the train; shrugging off the mild moment of panic as though it never happened.
Aquarius throws me a curious look, assessing – trying to decide what he saw, picking out any weaknesses early on.
So I snarl at him; baring my teeth in a malevolent mockery of a smile. He grins back at me.
We board the train, make our way down the hall towards the hum of conversation as the train starts to pull away from the station silently.
"Here they are!" Seria announces rather unnecessarily as we shoulder our way into the carriage.
Immediately seven pairs of eyes are on us.
Anderson bypasses us heading towards the bar; he spares us one look over his shoulder. He looks like he's just swallowed something sour; though his expression usually is twisted into some sort of grimace that it's hard to tell what his actual response might be to this year's Reapings.
Della looks merely thoughtful as her gaze sweeps over us, Camver looks slightly manic as he always does. Leo and Tara – the consecutive Smithen cousin Victors from a few years back – exchange discreet whispers.
Old familiar Seus, his hair iron grey now and brushing the tops of his shoulders stares hard at me for a few seconds as though searching for something.
My spine straightens subconsciously as my father suddenly stands, the ice in his glass that he holds rattling with the movement.
"Well that was quite the Reaping I must say," Seria claps his hands together delightfully, looking to the others for confirmation.
"Yea, quite the show," Anderson mutters, directing a glare at me.
"I agree with Seria – made the girl look good. I mean fighting her sister like that shows she's a no mercy kinda Victor – real chilling stuff. Half the other tributes will be shaking after seeing that!" Camver nods to me encouragingly.
I push down the rising bile at Camver's words.
I can feel the waves of resentment coming from Aquarius already, the cords of muscle in his neck are twitching with barely controlled restraint as he is once again snubbed. I'm going to have to kill him first in the Arena I realise; any alliance with Aquarius would be too risky.
However I can't help it as my gaze slides over to the bar where my father is calmly making himself up another drink as though this were a casual social.
"And Storm fought well for the cameras," Tara continues on the conversation, her cousin murmuring his agreement at her side, nodding to me in acknowledgement and I return the gesture.
"It was a foolish thing to do."
I don't need to even look to know who said it.
I grind my teeth together, my gaze livid.
My father looks to me – almost bored.
"Now every other tribute knows your fighting technique, preferences…weaknesses."
A tense silence settles like a guillotine waiting to fall.
"But what weaknesses were there to show?! – None!" Seria interrupts boasting with a wide grin. Seria never has had tact; however it isn't because he is painfully oblivious, rather the fact he doesn't care how inappropriate or obtrusive he is in any situation.
Aquarius makes some noise of irritation at the back of his throat from beside me; his impatience at being evidently ignored for so long almost worn done.
I smother my smirk; Aquarius doesn't even know he's given away one of his weaknesses already; his inability to sit back and wait.
"Right Storm, Aquarius – your outfits are in your room; eat, clean, freshen up; make sure you look your best for when we arrive in the Capitol. We meet here again in a half hour to talk," Della, in a strangely maternal way takes charge of the situation, steering us towards the door at the opposite side of the carriage.
It's evident that our potential mentors want to discuss their two newest tributes without them being in the room. Discussing which one they should invest the most in; which one is most likely to succeed.
A burning curiousity grips me and I linger at the door even after Della has shut it tight meaningfully. What will Samson Haywire have to say about my odds?
Sorry for delay! - Thanks to Sheepinkgirl for the review and Roxiblilly and smorg98 for the follows!