Fun Fact #1: Andri's name derives from 'Androgynous' but because well, she's androgynous. On the other hand, Flossé's name comes from the word 'floss'.

Chapter Three

Arva

The first thing my eyes caught sight of upon entering the lobby near the stables was the chariot Atl and I rode for our Tribute Parade last year—well, they used the same chariot every year, though they were some touchups, change of horses and such. Standing there, proud and still as majestic as ever were the two white stallions and a wave of nostalgia washed over me while the memory of when Atl helping me onto the chariot and keeping hold onto my hand replayed itself so vividly it was as if I was presently some other person watching the two tributes of District Four for the 68th Hunger Games.

"Arva! Finnick!"

The scene disappeared in the blink of an eye as I froze in surprise. Hurriedly, I spun around, searching for where Atl and I could've gone but they were nowhere to be seen and then, I realized that I was only reliving the past. No more, no less. I turned around again and found Finnick's worried sea green orbs looking back at me, followed by the sight of Ila approaching us from behind him. Then, I noticed that I had stepped away from him in my trance. Weakly, I smiled at the man I love and returned to his side before greeting the victor of the 67th Hunger Games along with the victor of the 50th Hunger Games who trailed a few paces behind the former with a bottle of rum in his hand.

"How's things so far?" Ila directed her hazel eyes at me. Her vague question could be hinting at many varying topics that ranged from my new life as a victor back at home to how I was coping as a mentor. However, I didn't feel like moaning about how I was already failing as a mentor. I didn't want to sound like a person who gave up easily…like a person who threw her life away and drowned herself in sorrow and remorse without even thinking properly about the consequences. I didn't want to sound like someone meek who wouldn't even made a sound as the people stepped around and all over her. Even though I wouldn't consider myself a wolf in sheepskin anymore, that didn't mean that I was willing to be a mere sheep. The people I cared about never said it out loud but I could tell that Arlen was disappointed to some degree when I had proven him wrong about being a fighter during my lapse in judgment hence why I had decided that I needed to prove him right once more. I needed to prove everyone that I was every bit of that sly wolf—that I could be even more.

"It's alright," I replied with a broader smile. Arethousa's scorn towards me shouldn't be a wall blocking me from achieving my hopes to become a good mentor. It should be a mountain or a bump on the road that I needed to go over in order to continue my journey. I needed to find different ways to mend the gap, not sit around and mope. The tribute's lifeline is their mentors and I needed Arethousa to know that I would continue to be her lifeline even if she persists in refusing to cooperate.

"Hmm," Ila nodded. "I reckon your district's stylists are going to bring out some big guns again this year while mine would no doubt dress the tributes as trees again," she added with an unamused smile.

"Or perhaps they could cover them in brown body paint and wound ivy around them?" Finnick suggested with humor lacing his tone, earning a snort in return from the petite District Seven victor.

"In your dreams—hell, in everyone's dreams! The moment they dress the District Seven tributes as something other than a tree is the moment when they've got their senses hammered back into their minds with a boulder."

"I'd rather not a practically naked boy appearing in my dreams," Haymitch muttered rather drunkenly yet loud and clear enough for everyone to hear.

"Obviously," Ila rolled her eyes. "Now, mind your drinking. That's the last bottle you're going to get for another two hours."

At that, Haymitch scowled, though pocketed his drink and said nothing more but a few indistinguishable mumbles. Eyeing the two right now, I could see that there was something going on between them because since when did Haymitch ever obey someone—particularly one who told him to put away his alcohol? Sure, I didn't know him well but the tales of Effie Trinket's many vain efforts in keeping the victor in line were more or less, true. He was infamous for his alcoholism after all so how did Ila manage to convince someone like him to do so?

Noticing my bewilderment, Ila smiled knowingly with some hints of wickedness and leaned forward to whisper into my ear, "Sometimes, brute force and persistent persuasion is extremely effective."

A shiver ran down my spine while the victor of the 67th Hunger Games stepped back while a word rang throughout my mind. Whatever Ila had used against Haymitch to just about practically wrap him around her fingers had to be something really effectual…just like the blunt words she chose to remind me of my place, of the people who cared about me and of how there were others like me back when I was still in the hospital. Despite my not wanting to believe her entirely then, what she said was still effective and they burned into my mind. Ila was definitely not a person to be messed with.

"I'd rather you not scare her, Ila," Finnick's voice came in. I turned to him and saw that he wore that charming smile of his. I turned back to Ila who had pursed her lips in mock unhappiness by then.

"Ruin my fun will you, Finnick?" she said before adding nonchalantly, "Besides, we're all friends here, no need to be scared of one another."

At that, Haymitch commented something inaudible under his breath while Finnick's eyebrow rose in amusement. Nobody moved or talked until Ila pulled her gaze away and huffed.

"Alright, alright. I'll play my games with Gloss and his bunch instead."

Finnick

Satisfied, I smiled back at Ila who held a mischievous twinkle in her eyes despite the fact that she was pretending to be discontent. Not everybody had the privilege to get past Ila's walls but under her hard exterior, she was kind and she was fiercely dedicated to the people she cared about. Her toughness and stubborn attitude was how she won Haymitch's respect for her. After all, she practically pinned him down with kitchen knives while threatening that if he were to continue throwing his life away, it would never give his district partner's soul peace…or so the passing whispers had told me seeing how Ila had never recounted the event to me yet.

We continued to converse with each other until our tributes showed up. True to Ila's expectations, both District Seven tributes were donned in tree costumes whereas the District Four tributes looked like ferocious yet haunting merwarriors decked in armor, dramatic makeup and glinting gold tridents. Flicking me a look as if to tell me 'I told you so', Ila fluttered her fingers in a posh-like manner and walked away with her tributes, their prep team and Haymitch in tow. Most likely, she would be forcing him to join his tributes and their prep teams like how she did just about every year since she began mentoring.

Leith greeted Arva and me the moment he was near us while Arethousa remained silent. Her eyes—now comparable to an electric green—darted from me to Arva. Then, I noticed her grip on her trident slacken. She looked like she wanted to say something, perhaps to apologize but then, her grip tightened again and she held her tongue. Arva's old prep team surrounded her, throwing questions back and forth with giggles and laughter as they caught up on each other. Andri, however, did not join them and chose to stand near Leith and I but beside Juliet.

"They were Arva's prep team?" Leith asked, his cerulean orbs watching the scene before us.

"Yes, and now, they're Arethousa's," I replied.

No more words were exchanged between us after that.

Elodea's lavender-blue hair bounced in its high ponytail as she headed our way with a skip in each step, though it should've been quite impossible in the heels presently adorned to her feet. Brightly, she greeted all of us—including Arethousa—and proceeded to inform us that the chariot was ready. As we made our way to District Four's chariot, I realized how much of a dreadful routine life seemed now that I found myself comparing the current events to the ones of last year's Hunger Games as they replayed in my mind more profound than any other I've attended as a mentor. How many tributes have I mentored but never returned alive? How many aspirants and how many forlorn ones were there? Wailing families, discouraged residents and crestfallen lovers. How many broken souls have returned after surviving the arena?

Marceline's words resurfaced into my mind and I found myself more willing to believe the Head Game Maker. Even though she had been brutal and merciless in the games she created, perhaps it was thoughts like these that continue to drive towards her goal of freeing Panem from our tyrannical ruler.

Suddenly, I felt fingers entwine with mine, pulling me away from my trail of thoughts. I looked down at my side and saw Arva's concerned expression. Had she noticed something amiss with me? I gently squeezed her hand to reassure her that there was nothing wrong and we averted our attentions back to District Four's tributes for the 69th Hunger Games as the pair stood unflinching and tall on the chariot. However, the thoughts continue to swirl in my mind all the while. When would Marceline be informing Arva of the rebels? How would she ask Mags to join now that Mags was no longer a mentor? And, just what words did the Head Game Maker select to convince President Snow to allow my relationship with Arva to bloom?

Arva

I had a feeling that Finnick had not been telling me the entire truth but I didn't want to pry. Yes, I've sworn to not keep anything from him but that didn't mean that he did as well. We didn't swear it to each other anyway. It hurt to think that Finnick had things that he couldn't tell me but then again, I did keep things from him as well.

'When he's ready, he'll tell me,' I told myself firmly.

In the background, the roaring of the Capitol citizens intensified as the white stallions drew District Four's chariot out. Both Arethousa and Leith looked dangerous yet inhumanly beautiful. Andri and Juliet had done fantastic jobs on them and I was surer than previously that gaining sponsors would be easy for them. Still, the gap between the tributes worried me because even with the tremendous amount of skill both could hold or the large number of people willing to throw money for either of them, teamwork was still important. If it wasn't, there wouldn't be a saying like 'two is better than one'. Furthermore, Arethousa's attitude could become her downfall…

I watched the screen alongside Finnick, Andri, Juliet and the others. Caesar and Claudius were commenting on each tribute, explaining about the districts and making attempts at jokes. The former was saying how District Four's stylists had outdone themselves once more, making references at Atl's and my Tribute Parade outfit last year and such before moving on to District Five whose chariot just emerged. I was half-anticipating for Arethousa and Leith to glow or something similar when all of the chariots arrived under President Snow's balcony and were eclipsed by shadows but they didn't. They remained hidden in the darkness just like every other tribute. Puzzled, I looked at Andri and as though she had been expecting my reaction, her purple lips curled up into a smile.

"Their attire was more dramatic and elaborated than last year's so Juliet and I didn't think they needed something extra," she explained and I nodded my head understandingly. It was true, both District Four tributes for the 69th Hunger Games were dressed up in more intricate costumes than Atl and I had been last year. To top that off, they were good looking without makeup as well—not like Atl hadn't been.

President Snow finished his speech and the chariots began to move once more. The first part of phase one of the Hunger Games was now over. The training sessions would begin tomorrow.