THE TRAINING CENTER: DAY 2 + THE TRAINING SCORES/INTERVIEW
It was the second day in training and Clove had now moved on to other stations that consisted of rock climbing, hand-to-hand combat, and training with various swords or spears. It felt great, to be able to use these weapons and train like she used to back in District Two. It also boosted her confidence (as if she really needed the boost, though), in that she could kill every single one of the tributes in the Training Center.
And that included Cato. She might've felt attracted to him, or at least attracted to his power, but that only increased the competiveness she felt towards him. He was handsome, sure, but that wasn't why Clove was drawn to him. If anything, it was that she strived to be better to him, and his energy was of such potency that it drew her in. The way he attacked, so ferocious in his technique. He was merciless.
Clove was merciless too, but she was in a way that was more…elegant, you could almost say. She threw knives with litheness, bending in the air as she sent a blade towards someone's vital organs. Cato was more direct, smashing someone's body until their life before his eyes drained out. Clove was quick, only wanting for her aim to be perfect, because if it was, she wouldn't have to worry about anything else.
Together, they would be unstoppable.
Before, the day of the interview, an incident occurred. One that could have probably gotten the pair eliminated from the games if they weren't such favorites of the Gamemakers. It began when Cato, fighting with spears nearby Clove, who was beginning to feel drawn towards the knives again.
"You know, Brutus said not to do the same thing twice," said Cato, his lips millimeters from Clove's ear. She jumped, instantly grabbing a long bladed knife and by instinct, she spun around and held the blade to Cato's neck.
Smirking, Cato grabbed Clove's armed hand and shoved it away.
"Just because you can play with kitchen tools doesn't mean you can do anything to me with them," said Cato, leering. "You and your dainty little knives can't lay a scratch on me."
As he turned and walked away, laughing, something whizzed by his ear. Before he could turn to see what it was, the whistle of another airborne object went past his other ear.
Knives. They hit the man-shaped target that stood in front of Cato. He turned around, eyes widened in surprise.
"Just because you're bigger than me," began Clove, laughing lightly as she plucked another knife from the assortment next to her. "Doesn't mean that I can't aim a knife at your heart and kill you."
"So that's how you want to be, huh?" retorted Cato as he seized a short bladed sword that he had earlier tossed from a previous station. His face looked eager at the challenge, and he walked up slowly to Clove until they were inches apart. He looked down at her face, his mouth twisted into a smirk as he brought his blade up. Cato pressed the flat side of his blade against Clove's cheek, pushing her face to the left. "If you really want to fight, let's do it now."
She dashed backwards from his blade, her arm slashing down as she sent four knives flying from her hand in silver streaks towards Cato. Reacting quickly, his moved his sword to deflect the knives, sending them clattering to the ground as he made his way towards Clove. She ran towards him as well, twisting into a dance as she directed a knife towards his temple, but Cato smacked the knife away again. Clove was laughing as she went back and forth with Cato, gleeful that she had such a skilled adversary to battle. This took Cato off guard, he lowered his sword.
And that's when Clove darted up to him, and held a knife to his neck and another knife to his sword hand. Pressing her body against his as she stood on her toes, she whispered into his ear, her breath tickling his earlobe.
"Guess who could kill you, right now, with her 'dainty little knives'?"
A few trainers, who were standing warily near them, finally came over to break them up. They didn't want to intrude before when the fight was so intense, afraid to get hurt. Plus, the Gamemakers found it as good entertainment. But now they were being pushed and prodded apart, and Clove gave Cato a smug look as she was thrust aside.
Caesar Flickerman. The interviewer who brought out the best of the tributes. Once your stylist dressed you in the clothing that they felt made you look your finest, you would be lined up, sitting in the comfy lounging chairs backstage, eating, drinking, or relaxing until you were called up for your interview. It was there, during your three minute expanse of time, that you could end up with the Capitol citizens wrapped around your little finger. Everything in the interview was about blowing away the crowd, whether it was with your charm, brutality, or cunning.
"We've got a real treat for you, Cato," cried out Crispinus, Cato's stylist, as he tried to squeeze between the other stylists bustling around before the interviews began. "I made this the night after the parade; you just looked so dashing in gold!"
Even though Crispinus was hyper and fickle just like the rest of the Capitol people, he had a certain distinction of normal. His hair was short and black, and his skin was a natural chocolate brown. He still wore odd Capitol fashions, but other than that, his face and body were untouched.
As Crispinus unwrapped the bag he was carrying around with distinctive care, Fausta, Clove's stylist, appeared from the crowd, also carrying a bag.
"This looks good," said Cato as he pulled out a golden suit that seemed to shimmer slightly as light hit its fabric. A black, collared shirt was set aside to accompany the suit jacket. "I'll go put it on now."
Clove watched him walk away into the dressing room when Fausta tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around to see her stylist holding up a dress that looked like fiery flower. The orange top of the dress was layered with sheer orange and yellow ruffles, resembling the petals of a carnation. A sash that was a shade lighter than the top was wrapped around the middle. The rest of the gown was long, covered in one layer of see through material that would twinkle with the slightest movement.
"Wow," said Clove, letting words of wonder slip off her lips. Her hand reached out and stroked the skirt of the dress. "It looks really good."
"I thought it fit your personality," replied a pleased Fausta as she led Clove into a dressing room. Clove walked in and quickly slipped into the dress. As she inspected herself in the long mirror that stood before her, she had to agree with Fausta. Despite always thinking that she was as cold as ice, the dress fit her well. It made her look more bold and passionate, almost. Smirking in this dress didn't look arrogant, it looked right.
She spun on her toes, loving the weightless skirt of the dress. Slipping a bit, firm hands steadied her from behind. Clove looked up behind her to see Cato's face.
"You look nice." stated Cato as he turned Clove to look at her dress. Cato's eyes flicked up then down, making Clove feel slightly uncomfortable. A blush crept up from her neck to her face.
"Well, you look good too," Clove answered back casually. Two can play at this game, she thought as her pale fingers reached up and straightened out the collar of Cato's black shirt. He looked at her hands and stared hard at Clove.
He reached out his left hand and cupped Clove's chin, moving her face from side to side.
"You might want to put on some more makeup," he said with laughter in his voice. His hand fell and Cato walked away, but not before saying, "You don't want to walk on stage looking like you have a fever." This only made Clove redden more.
"Well," asked Clove hastily as she looked at Fausta. Her stylist was looking at her quite oddly. "Should I put on more makeup?"
"No," said Fausta slowly as her eyes flickered between Clove and where Cato had gone to sit. "No, you're fine with what I already put on; your face isn't red anymore."
She left the stylist and prep team to go sit and wait for her interview, but not before hearing Fausta mumble, "You're not red now that he's left."
As she sat down, a silent feud went on in her head. She didn't like Cato. Well, actually, Cato was a perfectly likeable person to her, but probably only her. He was cruel and arrogant, but so was she. But she didn't love Cato or feel anything for him. Well, actually, she was drawn to his presence, his greatness. And it did make him slightly attractive. Maybe.
But she needed to push those thoughts away into the back of her mind, and probably for a very long time. Clove didn't need these feelings when she about to go into an interview that could likely gain her many sponsors and win the hearts of the Capitol. And she needed much less later, when The Hunger Games were looming over her, going to begin the next day.
But before she could ponder anything else, Clove was being shunted towards the stage by a few of the attendees backstage. She took a deep breath and walked onto the stage, her skirt rippling in the open breeze of the City Circle.
Bright lights hit her eyes and disoriented her for a little bit, she regained her vision by pretending to flutter her eyelashes at the crowd as she smiled. But she really was just blinking until she could see again.
"Clove, Clove! Please, sit down!" began Caesar Flickerman. They shook hands. Clove couldn't help but stare at his freakish blue face as he talked to her. "Now, I see that you got a ten for your training score! Very, very good!"
"Yes, thank you." said Clove as her mind flashbacked to her throwing a flurry of knives on to a few dozen dummies. Hitting each one right on the bull's eye.
"Now, you're District partner is Cato, and he is a very monstrous boy. What exactly are your thoughts on him?"
"Well…" started Clove as she turned to face the passage backstage, only to find Cato leaning against the wall and raising an eyebrow. Waiting for an answer. "I can tell you that he's not as monstrous as you think he is."
"Oho!" cried Caesar as the crowd hooted in curiosity as to why Cato was not so monstrous. "And why would that be? He seems very scary to me. Perhaps he's taken a liking to you, if he doesn't seem monstrous!"
The crowd cheered loudly as they waited for Clove, who had turned a bright shade of pink, to respond.
"No, not at all." replied Clove, bringing up a smirk on her face. "He's not monstrous to me because I beat him in the Training Center."
Everyone person in the City Circle must have gasped, and then they started cheering because they loved the striking personality of Clove. They loved her fire and confidence.
After a few basic questions to which Clove wittily responded, the buzzer went off, leaving the crowd loudly moaning in disappointment as Clove moved backstage, giving everyone one last wave.
"'Not so monstrous because I beat him in the Training Center', huh?" questioned Cato as he joined her on the couch on which she had sat. "Did you really need to make me look weak?"
"I didn't make you look weak," said Clove scornfully. "I just needed to make conversation."
"Yes, conversation about how you took down a 6 foot 3 boy who had a really good rep before you said that a 5 foot 5, petite girl took me down."
"I laughed after I said it. They probably think I'm kidding."
"You better hope they are. Hopefully they were distracted enough by how shimmery you were when you were up there."
"Did you think I was pretty?" cooed Clove as she batted her fake eyelashes.
Cato stared at her. She stared back.
They broke into bounds of laughter as the nerves and tension got to them. Other tributes were staring at them, not knowing whether to be afraid or annoyed.
All in all, it was a good night to have before being gathered into an arena to kill of 23 other people.
end THE TRAINING CENTER: DAY 2 + THE TRAINING SCORES/INTERVIEW