Sorry about the wait. Again, this is longer and hopefully it's better developed than the last chapter six. So, the next chapter will be the beginning of the Games! Eeep! This time it will be more drawn out, more suspenseful and hopefully just all in all better. Hopefully I have made Violet and Cato's relationship more developed.

Chapter Six: Wings

I can't turn away from the black screen of the television. It's blank, considering we're waiting for the training scores to appear. I hear Cato vaguely making fun of me, and feel Castor poking my side as roughly as a thirteen year old can. But all I can do is worry. That last day of training, Bellona threatened to kill me right off if I got anything less than a seven. Oh no. So basically, I'm a nervous wreck. And nobody but Bellona and I know why.

"Calm down, Twelve, it's just a number," Cato chuckles, ruffling my still wet hair. Normally, I would scream at him for ruffling my hair. But I just can't bring myself to do it. Is that normal? To worry about something like this? Because he's right. It's just a number.

I open my mouth to respond when the television flares to life. Instead of words a high pitched, nervous squeal escapes my lips. I can't help it, I am scared to death. I don't want to die in the Bloodbath, because I didn't get a good enough score! I bit the inside of my left cheek roughly as an image of Ceasar Flickerman-with orange hair and lips this time-appears on the screen. He explains what the training scores are. And now, it's time for numbers.

I was told by Clovis to try and memorize all of them, if I can. To help in the arena, he had said. And so I look at each one very closely.

Apollo, representing District One, a score of six.

Cordin, representing District One, a score of seven.

Castor, representing District Two, a score of five.

Violet, representing District Two, a score of eight.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize I've gotten a high enough score. However, I feel worried for Castor, considering he has the worst score so far. Even Cordin managed a seven. I wonder how she did that, considering she didn't do any weapon stations during the training days. And I would know, she followed me around. But I'm safe. Therefore, I can further protect myself and Castor.

I smile as Effie congratulates me, and tells Castor that he did good. I see the hint of disappointment in Cato's eyes as he realizes his tribute got a five in training evaluations. I see the proud look in Enobaria's eyes, however. I managed a score that is the minimum that Careers usually get. However, I remember last year that Peeta Mellark managed an eight, somehow.

I turn back to the television as the numbers proceed.

Rye, representing District Three, a score of seven.

Mazie, representing District Three, a score of four.

Angus, representing District Four, a score of five.

Sable, representing District Four, a score of four.

Gem, representing District Five, a score of eight.

Sapphire, representing District Five, a score of nine.

Spud, representing District Six, a score of eight.

Willow, representing District Six, a score of five.

Clovis, representing District Seven, a score of ten.

Bellona, representing District Seven, a score of ten.

Albert, representing District Eight, a score of six.

Watt, representing District Eight, a score of four.

Linder, representing District Nine, a score of six.

Rowan, representing District Nine, a score of six.

Spark, representing District Ten, a score of four.

Electra, representing District Ten, a score of five.

Calico, representing District Eleven, a score of two.

Lacey, representing District Eleven, a score of three.

Triton, representing District Twelve, a score of eight.

Ariel, representing District Twelve, a score of nine.

Well, now I know it. I know who I need to look out for when it comes to the training scores. Spud, who is representing District Six got an eight. Triton and Ariel got eights and nines. I wasn't all too surprised when the Careers got good scores, but those three, yeah. I'm surprised about District Four(Those are just Four sounding names.) because they haven't had good tributes in a long while.

And soon, Enobaria is leaving, and Effie is ushering Castor to bed. Effie doesn't come back, so I assume she's gone to bed as well. That leaves me and Cato, of course. That boy just won't stay out of my head, ever since that kiss. I mean, I can't be kissing one of the mentors. That's just not okay.

"What if that wasn't good enough?" I suddenly ask, when I'm sure nobody else is around to listen. For some strange reason, I trust him with this.

"An eight? That's good. Great. It was enough for them. But I'd watch your back," Cato tells me very blatantly. At least I know he won't lie to me when it comes to something like this. "What did you even do?"

"Used a sickle, a short sword, dagger, the like. Skinned a plastic dummy," I shrug lightly. I glance over and see him with one of his eyebrows raised. Oh. Skinning a dummy. That's not normal. Okay, I know for the future now, I guess.

He looks at me, I look at him. I see his pale blue eyes look right into my green ones. I see the way his smirk molds against his lips, the way one of his eyebrows quirks up. "You know, we never really finished what we started, Twelve," He told me in a low voice.

I small smirk grows on my own face as I move some of my hair behind my ear. "And what exactly did we start?" I ask, knowing exactly, though. I have no clue what washed over me, but I wasn't even thinking about what to say anymore. I almost had no control over what slipped from my mouth.

"You know exactly what we started," Cato told me in a low voice, leaning closer. He pushes his lips rather roughly against mine, but I kiss back with the same intensity. I feel my arms moving to rest around his neck, and his strong hands on my waist. I end up on his lap, legs wrapped around him. It's so intense, and I'm surprised, but I'm also doing nothing to stop it.

I open my eyes, wincing slightly from the bright light shining through the window. I glance over and see the figure laying beside me, fast asleep. I smile softly and lean over to brush his hair out of his face. But as soon as my fingers graze over his forehead, his ice blue eyes snap right open. And soon he has a tough grip on my wrist. My eyes widen, but just as soon as he'd grabbed my wrist, he'd let it go. "What was that?" I ask, one eyebrow raised. That had seriously worried me.

"Nothing, okay?" He snapped, looking away. I roll my eyes and stand up, slipping my outfit from yesterday back on. As I turn to the door, I hear him sit up. "Now where are you going?"

I don't seem to be in a question answering mood this morning. "Somewhere where there aren't guys who can't admit they have a tiny little flaw," I suddenly state drily. It's silent for a moment, and when I'm sure he won't answer, reach out for the door handle.

"I've always been on edge after the Games, okay? I can't shake the feeling that people are out to kill me," Cato tells me. I glance back and turn around, chewing on the inside of my cheek roughly. I always assumed the Careers carried on as normal after the arena. I knew of Victors having nightmares, of sinking into addictions to sooth the pain and memories. But I'd never heard of a Career Tribute doing that very thing. Of having invisible scars left.

And in the time it takes to snap out of it, I realize he's dressed and standing. He looks a bit...angry. I cross the room and wrap my arms up around his neck. I feel him tense for a moment, and then his arms wrap tightly around my waist. "It's okay to not be perfect, you know," I whisper, giving him a small smile before backing away softly. "But it's probably looked down upon to get caught in your mentor's bedroom," I add with a sheepish smile as I leave the room.

I walk down to my bedroom and smile. I finger the black ribbon tied back around my wrist. It had never left all night. He never asked about it, but of course I didn't mind that. It was only a silly ribbon from home, after all. To remind me of who I was fighting for. Or, really, fighting to keep happy and safe...and alive.

I'm barely in my room for five minutes before the prep team stumbles in. All three women, all having skin painted in a pastel color. One a sky blue, other mint green, and the last a light orange. Their hair was all pastel, too, only not the same color as their skin. It was a scary sight, honestly. The first time I saw them, I was so concentrated by their appearances that I never paid attention to the trio's names. They don't seem to care, though.

By the time they're done with me, my hair is down in sleek waves, framing my pale face. They've put dark makeup around my eyes, making them pop out even more. My lips were covered in a sort of pale gloss, and they've painted my pale skin to resemble marble. They've sprayed something on my hair, not letting me see the result of it. The trio leaves, leaving me in the room to wait for my stylist.

Hestia steps into the room, my stylist. She's wearing a rather bedazzled pink dress with high heels. Her lips are painted pink and sparkly, her face glimmering in the light. Her white hair is up in a high ponytail, it falling straight to her ankles. I have to wonder how she doesn't trip on it all the time. Hestia slips a white dress over my body, tying it in a few places. Then she places a laurel wreath in my hair, just sitting on top of the waves. "You look stunning, Violet," She gushes, turning me to face the mirror.

I have to agree with her on this one. The dress hugs what curves I've earned back from the food here. It's almost like a picture I saw in a book in the Justice Building. In Ancient Roman times, women would wear dresses like this. They would make statues that resembled this. And that's exactly it. I look like one of those marble statues. My hair is painted much like my skin, to resemble a statue. The laurel wreath is painted the same color, even. The only thing that sticks out are my emerald green eyes and the black ribbon on my left wrist.

"Thank you so much, Hestia. I look...," I can't even finish. I can't explain how I look. It's just...breathtaking. I never thought someone could do something like this to one's appearance.

"Like a marble statue. Like the strong woman you are," Hestia finishes, giving me a very light hug. "Now, go out there and woah the crowd. You're amazing, just keep your head high," She adds.

I smile and nod, leaving the room and into the living room area. There I see Castor standing there, looking very much like a gladiator from that same book back home. Enobaria looks at me and nods in approval, it seems. Castor's eyes widen as he sees me. Wow, this is surprising. Cato...won't look away. I feel my face heat up and suddenly wonder if my blush shows through the paint.

And soon they're guiding Castor and I towards the stage, shoving us onto the stage with the other tributes. We're all sitting in chairs in a sort of arch in the rear of the stage. There's the crowd.

My head begins swimming as I see all of them, all the cheering people. I lick my lips nervously as Caesar calls up Cordin. Three more people and it's me. She's annoyingly hyper as normal, and if I didn't know any better, I would say even Caesar was ready to get rid of her. Her District Partner seems rather fake confident, as if he were told to act like a Career...he didn't do a good job at it. Now it's my turn. I hear Caesar say my name, but then my heart takes over for the most part. As I stand up and make my way to the front seat, I strain to hear anything other than a heartbeat and the cheering crowds.

I barely make out Ceasar stating, "So, Violet, how did you feel when you got Reaped?"

Oh gosh. I take a breath and try to smile politely. "Well, at first I was surprised, honestly. But, I was eager to show I'm not as weak as I look," I reply. Great. Try to keep it up, I tell myself.

"Ah, that's wonderful. You certainly don't look weak, Dear," Ceasar replies, sending me a bright smile. His hair is a bit scary, being that brightly colored against his pearly white grin. And that is literally the best I can even think of. Yeah...I might be a bit nervous.

"And you look amazing, Violet! Can you tell us about the outfit?" He asks, raising one of his colored eyebrows. Right. Talk...about the outfit. Why was I dressed like this again? I feel the palms of my hands begin to sweat, but don't wipe them off or else I'd ruin the look. Oh gosh.

"Well, I'm supposed to look like an Ancient Roman statue. These statues were often carved to resemble only the strongest or cleverest of people," I manage to get out, feeling my throat close up. Why is my heart beating so loudly?! I'm pretty sure Ceasar could hear my heart beating by this point.

"That's fitting! So, tell me, Violet, what's your family like back home?" Ceasar asks, biting his lower lip in wonder. Oh no. I don't want to talk about them to the crowd! But I guess I have to, because these are the people keeping me alive in the arena.

And so, I swallow my fears and try to answer. "Well, my mother usually handled the cooking, but I mainly supported the family, working up at the apothecary. I have twin younger brothers, Pollux and Castor who are both thirteen. My younger sister, Genevieve, is adopted and a couple years younger than me. My father recently died in the mines...an explosion. Um...then there's Kaz. She's my best friend, practically family. I had a twin sister but...she passed away years ago," I explain, biting my lower lip softly.

I hear the sounds of sympathy from the crowd. I see the look on Caesar's face. Great. Sympathy, just what I needed. Caesar says his apologies and continues on, thankfully he's done with the family topic. "Your training score! An eight, can you tell us about it?" He asks.

"Well, let's just say I wasn't even giving it my all," I state, flashing a smirk up at where the Gamemakers were stood.

"Violet, why do you think you could win the Games?" Caesar asks me, raising an eyebrow sharply. It was an innocent question, one he asks just about everyone. But it grates against my nerves. It does so, because I know I'm going to die and it scares me. He doesn't have to rub it in.

"I'm a fierce competitor, and you can bet if I go down, I'll take as many people as I can with me," I state. Then the buzzer rings. Caesar thanks me and I head back to my seat, almost sighing with relief. It's over. I don't really listen to the others. I just get the general idea of some. Castor is playing the sweet kid role, and it's working. He can certainly play the crowd. Clovis and Bellona are just downright frightening. Clovis is playing the ruthless killer part, and Bellona just seems insane to me. I'm thankful when it's over.

I hurry off of the stage with the others. I'm heading to the elevators when I'm getting grabbed and yanked into the stairwell hallway. The door slams behind me and I look up to see who it is. Clovis. I raise one of my eyebrows, confused as to why he wanted to drag me here. "Good, Twelve. You managed not to get yourself a target on the first day. When the gong rings, go to the Cornucopia. Don't worry about supplies, go for your best weapon. And fight like a Career. Any questions?" Clovis almost growled in a low voice. I shook my head and he quickly left, just as quickly as when he'd grabbed me.

I shake my head and head up the stairs to the second floor, thinking about it. Does he really think I need to be told how Careers do things during the Bloodbath? I've seen it a lot, and I'm not an idiot. I know how to do things. How to survive. When I get up to the floor, I walk right by everyone and head to my room. I just...need to think.

Tomorrow will begin my last two weeks. I'll die sometimes before the end, and I will make sure Castor wins. He has to. Otherwise our sacrifices will be for nothing. Pollux needs him back home, Genevieve and my mother need him back home. They can survive without me, but they need Castor. I lay in bed, fingering the ribbon tied tightly around my lower arm. I've washed all the makeup away, and lay in sweatpants and a loose top. My last night of warmth, of a bed, of a normal amount of food. This is it. I better enjoy it.

I also know, my last few minutes with my brother's mentor will be tomorrow. How am I going to do this?

So, I see this chapter as a filler. This is probably my worst chapter of the story and hopefully it will stay like that. I'm better at writing when it's in the arena and I have actual things my character can do. So, there's my reasoning. If you want to see what happened during any of the tributes' private training sessions, then just ask and I'll post all of them in a separate story type thing. Each one will be a different chapter. :) I would love to hear from you, thanks for reading!