Disclaimer: Next chapter as promised. Nothing new from me at this time aside from I still don't own the Hunger Games
Trainrides Part 2 of three
Infused with these Spirits
Saphyra Cullen – District One Female Tribute
"When are we going to get there?" Saphyra demanded of the stars. It seemed as though an eternity had passed since they'd left District One although it had only been a short time.
"Soon enough. Stop asking," Khalani answered nonchalantly. "Your minds should both be focused on developing a strategy for the games. I know right now it seems like you have all the time in the world, but the days before the Games are going to fly by so fast you'll be wishing you took this time to strategize."
"What strategy? We go in, kill people, I come out," Saphyra answered sharply, annoyed by Khalani's condescending tone.
"I'm with her," Killian seconded. "Let's just get there. It's no fun being trapped in this moving palace; I want to get out and move."
"I'd suggest against it," Khalani advised, wishing that Blake were here. Soon after dinner he and Vea had disappeared, leaving Khalani to attend to the two tributes. "If you go to sleep time might pass more quickly."
"You read our ages wrong. We're not twelve, Khalani," Saphyra scolded her mentor. Khalani was probably wishing for less spirited tributes right now, Saphyra reflected, someone who wouldn't so quickly be able to steal her glory. She hadn't gotten that, Saphyra smirked as Khalani tried to return to her book. Saphyra hurled a knife at her.
"Hey!" Khalani exclaimed, dodging it and hurling the book at Saphyra. "I'm on your side. Don't try to kill me!"
"It was a butter knife," Saphyra objected. "Clearly I didn't mean to harm you. Besides, I don't think there are rules about injuring a mentor before the Games, just the other tributes."
"Well, I am sure you're wrong about that," Khalani returned pretentiously.
"Well, I say screw the rules. We're both potential victors, Khalani, so you should be waiting on our every need because we deserve it. Now we need some open fresh air now!"
"I'm not stopping the train. We've got a tight schedule to keep and besides, I'm pretty sure that the driving system is automated."
"I don't want you to stop the train," Killian protested and Saphyra smirked widely, picking up his drift.
"No," Khalani objected, catching on. "You both need to be in one piece when you arrive at the Capitol. Falling to your death from a train . . ."
"Won't happen because we're too awesome for that," Killian objected and in a flash he and Saphyra were dashing off in one direction.
"We're going towards the front, right?" Saphyra confirmed.
"Of course. Can't you feel the way it's moving. We're getting pretty close. Feel the air coming in up there?" With a mischievous smile on his face Killian looked over his shoulder. Khalani was slowly following them. Saphyra smirked. She had no idea how this girl had won the Hunger Games last year. She'd seen it on the screen of course, but she hadn't understood it then either. She was calculated, not a risk taker, not like her.
"Stay inside, please. We'll be at the Capitol soon enough," Khalani objected again.
"Not a chance. We've figured it out," Killian declared and one of the panels on the train's roof came off. The whole thing had seemed almost too easy, but Saphyra wasn't about to be suspect of this. There was no profit to killing before the arena, for the tributes, the mentors, not even for the Capitol. So this would have to be safe, or if not safe, at least not fatal.
Already stir crazy and not about ready to let Killian say he was the braver of the two of them, Saphyra shoved him aside and ascended. One foot, two feet, suddenly her hands clasped the roof of the train and her head popped up on to the top. The wind caught her hair furiously as the train sped onward. The sheer power of it was phenomenal.
She pulled herself up, swung her legs over and then she was there, on the roof of the train. The wind nearly knocked the breath out of her, but there they were. She clung to the side as Killian climbed up too.
"That's better," he commented, adjusting himself. "Get up here, Khalani or you can't call yourself a Victor."
"She's not gonna do it. It's not part of the "plan"" Saphyra mocked. People like Khalani, rigid in their routines, rigid like her brother, they got on Saphyra's last nerve. She wasn't sure how she could respect someone who was so formal all of the time so –
"You were saying?" Khalani's head popped up between Saphyra and Killian, nearly making both of them jump.
"Won't you be missed in the "planning committee"?" Saphyra joked, honestly surprised and impressed, but likewise suspicious.
"Blake and Vea are taking care of things they haven't had an opportunity to do for a while. Besides, this isn't so bad." The three of them continued smirking, watching the clouds pass over the stars overhead. The night was deepening, but none of the three of these District One tributes seemed to mind. There was nothing that could topple their world or deflate their spirits this night.
Nero Taplin – District Two Male Tribute
He was meant to be here, Nero thought as he felt the train beneath him. The sheer power of the machine was astounding. This ride was the first step in the path to the sheer transformation of his life, he thought, of the lives of his family.
"I'm sorry," he said, seeing Dane enter the room.
"What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped abruptly.
"Just that I'm sorry no one volunteered for you," Nero replied, fighting to keep his cool. He didn't appreciate being snapped at for being kind and his clenched fist must have shown it.
"Thanks," Dane answered simply. She took a seat a couple of chairs away from him at the table. "Glade told me dinner was soon."
"I'm glad to hear that. I was looking at the floral arrangement a couple minutes ago, thinking it looked pretty scrumptious," Nero joked, but Dane was clearly in no mood for levity. She didn't look Nero in the eye, pointedly ignoring him. "It was probably pretty tough saying goodbye to your family, huh?" he switched the subject to what was probably bothering her. Leaving his family had been hard enough having volunteered, he could only imagine someone who hadn't made their choice, someone being ripped from their family against their will.
"Yes," Dane said simply, looking him in the eye, perhaps trying to analyze if his interest was genuine or if he was simply trying to make noise until their mentors reappeared.
"We're in the same grade at school, aren't we?" Nero realized, not meaning to change the subject., buthe'd come from the 18 year old section, though, so their paths must have crossed. He didn't remember seeing her, though. Maybe she was one of the more bookish type.
"We are. I've seen you around the yard. My home life keeps me pretty busy, though." Nero sighed. Maybe she was finally opening up a little, even if it was like pulling teeth. Could she be a potential ally, he wondered.
The door whooshed open and Glade and Echo appeared.
"I mean it, Glade. You've got to stop," Echo was whispering, her hand firmly on Glade's arm. His gaze avoided hers, but then the beat was over and Echo turned to her two tributes, her smile beaming.
"Well, here you are," she beamed. "And I imagine you're both starving. Good thing dinner is close behind us." No sooner had she said the words than dinner appeared, born by servants who were undoubtedly avoxes. "So, Nero, you volunteered," she observed, intrigued. Echo herself had been a volunteer ten years ago, before Nero had really been old enough to remember. "I take it you've trained."
"I've spent the better part of the last 6 years training. My family deserves to have a better life and I want to give that to them. You know, it's funny, my mom was furious when I volunteered, but she cooled down after I turned things over to my sisters, only for a while," he laughed, seeing their faces in his mind's eye.
"You know, besides Echo, all of our district's volunteers have died in the arena. I'm sure they promised their families they'd be back too," Glade commented. This was met by a sharp elbow to the stomach from Echo.
"Eat your dinner, Glade," she scolded.
"Well, I wish someone would have volunteered for me, but now that I'm here, I'll do everything I can to get back to my husband," Dane declared forcefully.
"That's excellent," Echo approved. "So, an important question that we should ask, considering that there are two of us and two of you: do you want to be trained separately or together?"
Neither tribute hesitated, answering at the same exact instant.
"Separately" and "Together" rose in contradiction to each other.
Nero wasn't entirely surprised at Dane's response, so he nodded.
"Separately it is, then," he conceded.
"Excellent. Nero, you'll come with me once we've finished with dinner," Echo directed. "Dane, you're with Glade. Now, this doesn't mean that you two can't still be allies, there just may be things," she eyed both of the tributes meaningfully, "that you may not want the other to know." Dane smiled and nodded, making him wonder what he would find if an alliance with her, with other careers, was in the making.
Freida Vasey – District Four Female Tribute
It was as though the bandana she wore was still infused with the spirit of her home. Above all the other scents of the dinner they were downing, above the smell of Evriam Link's perfume, above the Capitol scent that marked everything on the train, the bandana she now wore round her neck overpowered them all.
No one had said a word throughout all of dinner, not Ibrahima, nor either of the two Mentors. Not even Link; in her head Freida always used the Escort's last name instead of her first. She could never remember her first one anyhow, and she thought "Link" fit her somehow, chaining tributes up and bringing them to the Capitol year after year after year.
"Well, I don't know about either of you two, but I am pleasantly full," Excelcia declared, properly pushing her plate towards the center of the table. Ibrahima and Freida looked up from their plates where they were still devouring. "Please, don't stop on my account. You'll need all of your strength in the upcoming days," she encouraged genuinely. Good, Freida thought, since she had no intention of stopping eating until she was bursting at the seams. This was the first time in years she hadn't had to fight with six men to get a piece of the meal and besides, it would give her time before she'd actually have to acknowledge Ibrahima.
They hadn't spoken since he'd made what, Freida now realized, was probably just an ill-timed joke. Didn't he know you weren't even supposed to make jokes at the Reapings? Just because he wanted to be there, he wanted to put his life on the line didn't mean that she did. She hadn't volunteered, but he hadn't cared about that. He'd just cared about the attention.
Was it worth giving him a chance, Freida wondered? He was bigger than she was, stronger than she was, wouldn't it be better to have a chance to have him on her side? She looked to Excelcia again, perhaps hoping that the mentor would subconsciously answer her unasked question, but she and Mags both remained frustratingly silent.
"So, you trained for this? You ready?" Freida asked curtly, doing her best to get the words out in as polite a manner as possible. She didn't know that much about this boy and certainly didn't want to risk giving him an upper hand, so she was working off of what she knew already.
"I suppose so. I've been planning to volunteer when I turned 18 for years, so I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Speaking of being ready, how do you know if a woman is ready . . ."
"Please, no corny jokes," Freida protested, sensing it coming on. "I think the world is still recovering from your last two. Besides, if you're making jokes about women, you're very outnumbered and three of us are born killers."
The boy seemed to be considering for a second, taken aback that someone had interrupted him. Someone should have done that a very long time ago, Freida reflected. His mouth seemed like it had outrun his brain on more than one occasion.
"I'm sorry," he said, a little flustered, but seemingly sincere. "And about earlier, too. That was bad form."
"Damn right," Freida agreed. That was probably as close to an apology as she was going to get, so she took it.
"Is that it?" Ibrahima asked, looking confused.
"Is what it?" Freida retorted, equally confused.
"I say I'm sorry, you say damn right and we're square? All the girls I know are more dramatic than that."
"Good thing I'm not much of a girly girl, then," Freida retorted, smirking this time. "Growing up with all guys will do that to you, I guess."
"What about your mother?" Ibrahima asked.
"She died giving birth to me," Freida admitted softly. Link let out a sound that Freida was pretty sure was an overdramatic sob, which she tried to ignore. "Dad's gonna take the Games hard," she said, almost to herself.
The boy was silent for a moment and Freida was ready for Excelcia to make a move to change the subject, to redirect their focus to the matter at hand like the blood-thirsty Career mistress she was, but the pause remained until Ibrahima broke it.
"My mom's gone too," he added. "The only woman who meant a damn in my life just said goodbye to me, knowing I'd do anything for her. It's hard leaving people you love, even if it's what I signed up for. I can only imagine what it's like for you." He left it there; no corny jokes, no way to amend what had been done, just simple cold hard facts.
"Yeah, it sucks," Freida replied. "But now that we're here, what do we do?"
"Excellent question," Excelcia picked up on the beat. "The most important question right now is whether you two want to work together or separately because that will affect everything from there. If you're together, you'll have both of us to work with, both of our skill sets. If you work separately, one of you will work with Mags and the other with me. And it will be her and my decision who works with whom. You don't have to decide now, but the sooner the better, for all of us."
Both Freida and Ibrahima paused for a moment. Freida was considering. She wasn't sure whether she could trust Ibrahima, but two mentors together may be better than just one of them. And if she worked with him, at least for the time being, she'd have the benefit of his experience. Would all of that help in the long run; would it be sufficient to get her back to her family?
The boy was undoubtedly thinking the exact same thing. What decision had he come to?
"Let's work together," Ibrahima suggested and Freida nodded in agreement, silently adding "for now." For the moment, their spirits were infused together, but only one of them would return. And Freida knew it must be her.
Candice Graham – Female Tribute District 9
"Get over here, bro, it's staring!" Brody yelled from across the car. Candice barely looked up from the book her mentor had given her until Rolath put his hand on her shoulder. He said nothing, but from the look in his eyes it was clear he wanted her to come with him.
"I don't want to. I'm in the middle of a chapter," Candice protested. She wasn't really. She'd nearly finished the book and was on the last chapter, but she loved stories and wanted to go back and read it from the beginning. She hadn't even put it down for supper; she was so determined to catch every nuance of it. It was almost as though the stories that she told her sister were all caught up in this book, about wizards and princes and fairies and dragons.
"You can finish it later," Rolath whispered, promising. "Go to the screen or I'll spoil the ending."
"You've read it?" Candice exclaimed in a hushed voice. She shouldn't have been surprised, of course, but she was stalling. She didn't want to see the Reapings televised, didn't want to see the faces of everyone she'd soon be running from, everyone who would be trying to kill her. Rolath didn't answer, but put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to a seat on the couch beside him. Brody was on the opposite end with Haspereek between him. The girl from one was yelling at her brother as someone volunteered for him. Candice wished someone had volunteered for her and as she was forced to watch the monstrous career districts she became more and more afraid. She could feel her shoulders shaking and she knew she had to look strong. She had to impress her mentor or maybe he wouldn't want to help her at all, just like the older boy sitting on the other side of the couch didn't seem to want to help her. He kept talking about his Brolliance, as if that was actually a word, but it was clear that he didn't want any 13 year old girls to be part of it.
The boy from 3 didn't look so bad, she thought. He was about her age and didn't seem like he was a bloodthirsty killer. The pair from 4, though, was already fighting with each other and neither seemed friendly. Candice made a note to stay away from those two.
"That's all of the Career districts," Haspereek narrated, as though Candice needed more information.
"Looks like some good candidates from my Brolliance," Brody commented. "And the girls from one and two, whew. They have some fine looking ladies," he wolf whistled at Haspereek and Candice tuned out for a moment. It seemed like she was back in District nine, the wind blowing through her hair instead of, what was that, well, the train roaring outside, she supposed. Her sister's laughter in the background. She didn't even have to close her eyes and she was there.
There was a girl close to her age called in District Seven and, just like Candice, no one called out to take her place. She stood bravely on the stage beside her mentor, not like she had, Candice thought. The boy, though, the boy was a volunteer, she noticed. Why would anyone do that outside of the career districts she wondered, shuddering again at the thought of knowingly getting into this? She would have given anything to be safe and sound at this very moment in District 9.
Then, all of a sudden, there it was on the screen. They were watching themselves play back, Haspereek horribly calling her name. Candice saw herself standing still as stone. She could almost see the thoughts playing on her face, mentally pinching herself, sure that they hadn't really called her name. And then, just like the coward she was, she ran. She hadn't really thought she could escape, hadn't really thought. She'd just been desparate. She felt her shoulders shaking again and she couldn't help the tears that escaped her eyes.
A comforting arm slipped around her shoulders. Silently Rolath recovered the book and started reading to her, from the beginning, though, not from where she had left off. By the time they reached the Reapings at District Twelve, Candice was just brave enough to glance at the television again and see the little twelve year old with a cleft lip, so much like the little princess in the story, except about to be thrown into a world of human monsters, a world from which only one inhuman spirit would return.
To monstrous quality—why, you shall find
That heaven hath infused them with these spirits
To make them instruments of fear and warning