To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels
Aphrodite Aurelius – District 12 Mentor
"What do you mean I can't see him?" Aphrodite exploded. "I've been here almost an entire day and you're telling me I can't see my . . ." she paused. She couldn't make her father's relationship with her public knowledge. He had promised this would be done after the Games, after she brought home a Victor and was no longer needed. But to be unable to confide in him, to tell him her doubts about District Twelve, that would be unbearable.
"I'm very sorry, ma'am, but no one can see the Head Gamemaker, barring his request, until the end of the Games. As you can imagine he's a very busy man. I'll let him know that you were here."
Aphrodite sulked away, not really knowing what to do with herself until the chariot rides started. Some of the other mentors, the ones who knew each other, were gathering in the Victor's section of the viewing area. She knew they still wouldn't begin for a while, but she had no great expectations for her tributes in the parade. No, in the past 17 years District 12's stylists had refused to use an ounce of creativity. Coalminers, coalminers, coalminers. She was certain that alone would get them a black mark in her father's book. How did he expect her to work with this?
Aphrodite slammed her hand against the wall in her frustration.
"You seem perplexed," a voice came from behind her. Aphrodite turned in surprise to see Esthelrir, District 11's mentor behind her. "I'm afraid the most stressful part is yet to come."
"Tell me about it. I'm ready to do some heavy drinking before then, or something. How do you do this?" Aphrodite implored, her voice reaching desperation.
"My primary council, don't do it alone."
"But we're all enemies. We're against each other."
"Oh. Have the rules changed to the effect that Brutus is sending all of the mentors into the arena and I wasn't notified?" Esthelrir didn't seem to be mocking her, but his voice was bordering on an amused chuckle.
"I suppose not," Aphrodite hesitated.
"Come with me and meet the others," Esthelrir encouraged her.
"Maybe later."
"Later none of us will be at our best. Tonight is the night we pretend that our tributes are parading across in these chariots, prancing about as though they were competing for prom queen and king instead of demonstrating their murderous prowess. It isn't true, of course, but tonight pretending doesn't hurt."
"Okay," Aphrodite consented.
Blake Mahner – District One Mentor
"You're going to have to change out of your jumpsuit," Blake told Khalani. The teenager was still in the outfit she'd insisted on wearing at the Reapings all the way through the train rides. The Capitolites weren't going to love the black denim look. He knew it didn't matter so much right now, all eyes would be on the tributes, but after this, she'd have to parade herself, schmoozing sponsors for the tributes and she'd be much more successful if they viewed her as one of them.
"Don't you tell me what to do," Khalani hissed. "I had enough of that last year."
"You're mad because I stayed out of your way on the train rides," Blake observed. He knew it was true. He could feel her wrath, but he knew it had been best for her. He needed his de-stressor before the arena, and his time with their Escort gave him just that. Now he was ready to be on and focused.
"You abandoned us," Khalani said simply, not even looking at him.
"I was letting you find your feet. I assume you found them. And if anyone has a right to be pissed, it's the tributes, not you. It's not your life on the line anymore, it's theirs."
"Don't lecture me. The parade's about to start."
It was true. They were all positioned at the beginning, at the very head of the parade, so the group of Mentors would be the very first to see their tributes.
"This is the worst part," Steric said, coming up beside him. In her voice it was impossible to tell whether she was being sarcastic or serious.
"Sobriety doesn't suit you, Steric. You make no sense if you don't have alcohol." Blake giggled. He was more accustomed to her drunken side, the side that came out every year after the deaths of District 10's tributes. She was loud, witty and somehow hilarious. Before that she was always serious and cynical, always on the lookout. She was probably one of the best mentors, Blake thought. It was a shame she hadn't gotten any real fighters yet.
"Nice dress," he commented as the band began warming up for the fanfare. It seemed like there was a last minute adjustment delaying the lineup.
"Thanks," Steric replied, twirling once just for show as she caught the eye of one of the Capitolites opposite them. The sea green coloring complemented her blonde hair, but still gave her the ferocity she always displayed.
"See, Khalani. You can keep your tomboy personality and still get snazzied up."
"They're starting," Steric drew their attention in sternly.
The anthem sounded and the first chariot emerged from the chamber. Atop it stood Killian and Saphyra, both adorned like diamonds. It was almost impossible to see their faces among all of the shimmering.
"I think they overdid it this year," Steric commented, shielding her eyes. The two tributes were doing their best to compensate for the blinding effect, waving to the crowd, but the entire mentor group was grateful when their chariot passed them.
Echo Banner – District 2 Mentor
"Did I look that bad last year?" Khalani asked.
"Not even close. That was a particularly unique form of . . . oh my," Echo trailed off. She was reminded in an instant why she hated the stylists.
Both district 2's tributes stood scantily clad, with only a stone colored material covering their genitals. Dane looked positively scandalized, but Nero was insisting on playing the crowd, waving and turning his face towards both sides of the audience.
Echo sighed. She usually wasn't this frustrated with the stylists, but their creativity seriously needed to be taken up a notch. Even Glade, usually excessively polite, was hiding his head in his hands, embarrassed for the tributes. He even seemed to be blushing a bit.
"They're both very good looking," Khalani commented, trying to be helpful or make conversation.
"At least it can't get worse," Steric commented.
It was almost at that exact moment that Leunam laughed out loud. It wasn't just a chortle or a giggle, but rather a laughing fit that in about two minutes had him in tears.
"Leunam, what the hell?" Steric asked point blank as Iris tried in vain to calm him down. She herself was smirking.
"I . . ." he was gasping for breath but insistent on speaking. "I think . . . oh just watch."
As he said that District Three's chariot emerged from the darkness. Both tributes were dressed in grey material, in stark contrast to their usual electrifying costumes. At a second glance, it looked like it was more greyish-pink, a distinctly odd color, with little grooves covering their entire bodies. The group of mentors analyzed it for a moment.
"What is that?" Blake asked, clearly clueless.
"It's a brain," Iris explained. "Clearly three's stylists get points for creativity." Leunam finally straightened up and brought his laughter down to a chuckle.
The two brains, Ailis and Raivel seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as they could. The look on Ailis's face made it clear she thought they were the laughing stock of Panem, but it was clear Raivel was doing everything he could to cheer her up. The brains moved back and forth, swaying with the chariot. The shorter brain, Raivel, waved and, after a moment, so did Ailis. Her dejected look changed into a smile as the chariot passed by the mentors. Iris managed to give them both a thumbs up as they passed.
Mags Cohen – District 4 Mentor
"There they come!" Mags exclaimed, straining to see beyond the others. Her stature didn't give her much advantage when trying to navigate between the crowd, but Leunam was kind and ushered her past the Mentors for One and Two. Excelcia on the other hand stayed back where she was. She towered over the others and smiled as their chariot pulled forward.
There seemed to be a slight squabble in District Four's chariot, which may have been the hold up. In what looked like it may have been a collaborative effort, both tributes wore fish costumes. Freida's looked as though it had been placed on her in great haste and one of the eyes was hanging out of its socket in a grotesque manner. It seemed so realistic that Mags almost thought guts would start spewing out. She could feel her stomach churning.
Then she noticed the spear. Freida was waving it around, looking as though she were already to spear Ibrahima with it. The older tribute seemed to take it in stride, stopping it with his hand every time it came near him. Then he would push Freida away.
Mags clentched her fists, determined not to worry yet. If they were fighting already, would this alliance really work. They needed alies in the arena, especially Freida.
Then Freida made another pass at him. This one seemed more elaborate, as though it were meant more for the sponsors, but it caught her District Partner off guard. He tumbled to the floor of the chariot and Freida with him. For a moment both tributes disappeared from view.
The chariot seemed to pick up speed as it passed the Mentors, but still no sign of either of District Four's tributes rising from the floor. Mags began to worry and she could see Excelcia angrily shaking her head. Had she just written these two tributes off the way it seemed she'd written off so many in the past?
Just as the chariot had nearly rear-ended District 3's Freida popped up, grabbed the reigns and slowed it down a smidge. She reached down, helping Ibrahima to his feet and Mags ventured s a sigh of relief.
"They're made of sterner stuff than that," Blake commented, placing a reassuring hand on Mags's shoulder.
Then, all of a sudden, the lights at their end of the collesium were plunged into darkness. The crowd hushed and a couple of people screamed in fear. Then the clip-clop, clip-clop of horses came and something was shining in the darkness, ever so faintly.
As her eyes adjusted, Mags could just make out the outline of District Five's tributes. Their faces were shining with glow in the dark paint or something. Then, as they passed, the lights returned again, and came buzzing back to life. As the chariot advanced, the next section went dark and so on.
"Alorea, that's brilliant!" Ava beamed from a couple of seats down. "They've got to be the best one yet."
Aloreaea didn't respond. She so rarely did.
Haspereek Cloven – District 9 Mentor
"How are you not watching this?" Haspereek asked. Her question clearly jolted Aeden from wherever he'd been.
"District Seven isn't up yet," he replied quietly, looking away, no doubt trying to find an escape in the crowd.
"I realize that, but this is the fun part, the part where you don't have to worry about their lives being in jeopardy. Them alive. It's what you're going to want to remember, Aeden."
"Haspereek, I don't want to remember any of it" he turned his back on her, disappearing further into the crowd, into darkness.
Haspereek sighed. She hated it when there were outsiders. People who should be banding together but would prefer to be alone baffled her, especially here, especially in matters of life and death. That should be the great uniter, but some people would rather view it as a great divider, separating them from the rest of the world. Aeden was one of those and she feared for him.
Maybe he, Rolath, and Glade should get together and form a "we don't need help" support group. She would have gladly sponsored the cake, cookies and alcohol for that, but highly doubted that any of the three gentlemen would accept such an offer.
"He'll come around," Ava encouraged, seeing the look on Haspereek's face.
"When hell freezes over," District 9's mentor mumbled. "Him and Rolath."
"People deal with things in their own way," Ava tried to cheer her up, pointing at the upcoming chariot. "It looks like this year's going to be as hit or miss as ever."
It seemed as though Ava was right, but the District 6 stylists may have hit the dramatic mark. Each tribute had a map of Panem embellished on their bodies, complete with green lines for the land and blue for the oceans surrounding it. It even seemed as though the oceans waved a little. Then dots appeared across the fabric, seeming like little maps, maybe of train routes, of boats, anywhere people or things might travel.
"That is clever," Haspereek commented, finally brining a smile to her face. Then she noted the final accessory. Jayanti and Tavia's arms were laced with curtains, almost like those of a stage.
"Appealing to the Head Game Maker," Ava whispered when she saw this. "It can never hurt."
"They found his soft spot," an adoring female voice commented behind them. Both women turned to see Aphrodite, who blushed a little as she realized she'd said that aloud.
"Good evening ladies. May I present to you Aphrodite Aurelius, District Twelve's new mentor."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Ava Erminghard" Ava introduced herself, rushing up to embrace Aphrodite in an instant.
"I know. I've seen your face for years. It's an honor to meet you," Aphrodite gushed.
"Welcome," Haspereek echoed, shaking her hand warmly. "Do you want to watch the rest of the parade with us? You're more than welcome to."
"I'd be honored."
"On one condition, stop saying "honored". We're normal people, I promise," Ava said with a smile.
"Haspereek, where's Aeden?" Esthelrir questioned. With an exasperated look, Haspereek jerked a finger in the direction he disappeared. He was nowhere in sight.
"Your mentee is shunning all attempts at socialization," she stated.
"An object at rest will remain at rest unless it is acted upon. Thank you for trying, Haspereek. I'll bring him 'round."
"Good luck. It's getting more difficult," Haspereek whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear. The concern in her voice mirrored that in Esthelrir's eyes.
"I know," he whispered. "Take good care of Aphrodite," he enlisted her with a smile as he disappeared into the crowd on his mission.
Aeden Sanderling – District Seven Mentor
He saw the branches blowing in the wind first, but it didn't surprise him. District Seven was always some form of trees and for the last ten years, the stylists hadn't gotten enough of willows. He had scoffed the first couple of years, but now just let it pass. No one used willow trees for lumber. It just happened to have been her last name and the stylists had become obsessed with her. Everyone had been obsessed with her. It was just another painful reminder that she should have won.
"Your younger tribute is a dancing willow. She's the first one I've ever seen," Esthelrir's voice summoned him.
Aeden sighed. He had known former mentor would come after him. He was consistent; without fail whenever Aeden simply wanted to be alone, needed to be alone, Esthelrir was there. He was there just as he had been before Aeden entered the arena 10 years ago, just as he had been when he was giving final words of advice to him and Calliope, even as he had been when Aeden, in tears, emerged as the Victor of the 7th Hunger Games. That victory never would have been his without Esthelrir and for that Aeden was eternally grateful. Even so, he wished the victory had belonged to the other tribute, to his best friend, Calliope Willow.
Calliope had been a dancer, a fierce one and a fighter at the same time. She'd fought to keep him alive, convinced the Games would cease, that her father would come through for her, stop the Games for both of them. And when it came down to it, she lost her life for him, at his own hand, by her own words, like a willow collapsing of its own weight, drowning in the water that it loves so much.
"Get up and watch the parade," Esthelrir's voice sounded again, interrupting Aeden's thoughts. It wasn't a new monologue, Aeden knew he could pick it up exactly where he'd left off, like a song. Esthelrir's hand on his shoulder insisted that he follow his advice, just like his stern eyes. Aeden couldn't argue, so he rose from where he had been seated on the ground.
It was true, he could see now that, just as Esthelrir had said, there was a dancing vibrant willow once again in the chariot. Bailey was waving her little willow arms at every member of the audience. With all of the branches they'd saddled her with, it would be a wonder if anyone in the Capitol thought they weren't being waved to by little Bailey Therms.
Jonas, in contrast, stood stark still, clearly displeased with his costume. As Bailey passed him again, he glanced at Aeden, but his look wasn't one seeking advice. It was scathing. Clearly Jonas presumed Aeden had something to do with the costuming. Maybe he thought this was his way of getting back at him for the tirade on the train.
"You really ought to tell him to wave," Esthelrir commented.
"He won't listen. If I tell him nothing, there's probably a better chance he'll do it. If I tell him to wave, he'll lie flat on the chariot for the rest of the rides like a downed tree. " Sure enough, just as their chariot passed them, Jonas began to wave, not with nearly as much enthusiasm as Bailey, but it was a start.
"You've got an interesting pair this year," Esthelrir pried. Aeden nodded.
"Sterling and Rana's daughter and an arrogant 17 year old with a god-complex."
"The boy's your favorite, isn't he?" Esthelrir joked, finally prying a sarcastic smile out of Aeden. "I heard about what happened on the train rides. Don't let him get to you."
"How could you possibly have known?" Aeden asked, not offended, just genuinely surprised. It seemed Esthelrir always knew things he never should have. Whether that was his talent as a former Capitolite soldier or to what he owed the pleasure, Aeden couldn't be sure.
"I have my ways," Esthelrir responded in the mysterious way he always did. "Aeden," he said firmly as District Eight's chariot began to come into view. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, Calliope's death was not your fault. You are here because you were meant to be here. Don't let anyone else tell you differently."
Aeden pretended to turn his attention back to the chariots, allowing them to wash over him the same way Esthelrir's repetitive speech had washed over him time and time again. It still didn't help, but he was glad that he had his former mentor standing beside him.
Cassius Shadi – District 8 Mentor
Cassius smirked as their two tributes emerged from the darkness.
"That can't be what I think it is!" Wolfgang exclaimed beside him, looking to the Mentors who were closer to the edge for an explanation.
Neither of their tributes faces was visible. Concealed beneath a layer of white fabric, it was impossible to tell if Margery and Leoric were actually in there or if the stylists had spared the tributes the humiliation and simply piled up yards and yards of fabric, wrapped it around dummies and called it a day. The latter option surely would have been more merciful, but as the tributes tried to wave Cassius was certain they were actually within the costumes.
"If you guessed mummies, Wolfgang, you were right," Iris commented like the know-it-all she could be. She was smirking at their expense, but her tributes had been brains. Maybe the mummies would get confused, think they were actually zombies and feed on District Three before a word could be said. Cassius could only hope.
"I don't think the fabric's going to stay on them all the way down," Wolfgang worried.
"That's probably a blessing," Cassius drolled on. His co-mentor was far too stressed about things that were out of their control. "They're probably having a heck of a time breathing in there."
It was true. The wind was lapping at one of the edges of the fabric, trying to convince Leoric's costume to unwind. It was having limited success. To the eternal credit of the stylists, it seemed as though they had found a way to drape yards and yards of fabric around each of the tributes in one single strand. It was only a couple of inches thick, Cassius could see now that they were a little closer, but it was a firm material. A commentary on their district, perhaps? There may have been plaster intermingled with the fabric too, from the distance he was at it was difficult to say.
"Already prepared for embalming. All they need is the coffin," Glade commented morosely.
"Put a lid on it, Glade," Cassius commented rolling his eyes. "At least they're wearing clothing. That'll be more protection than your tributes have."
"You realize they're not wearing these in the Games," Echo rushed to her fellow mentor's defense, a bit thickly.
Cassius smirked, but decided not to pursue the fight any further. Of course he realized these were only costumes and had no real bearing on the outcome of the Games. He seemed to bring out the worst in many of his fellow mentors, testing their patience or simply rubbing them the wrong way, but he didn't care. He hadn't asked to be here year after year, hadn't petitioned to be a tribute, had never volunteered or made this his desire in any way. Yet, here he was, even among them this time instead of lending his presence to the crowd. No one could begrudge him the personality that had won him his own games.
Joran Duff – District 6 mentor
"I would sponsor that!" Joran exclaimed as District Nine's tributes came into view. The stylists had clearly abandoned any idea of tradition. This year the tributes weren't appearing as grain or as bread, but rather as large flasks of beer.
The boy appeared to love this idea, pretending to drink out of the lid of his district partner's pint, just above her head. The stylists had somehow even added a frothy compound to the alcohol. The body of each tribute was a perfect golden concoction, the liquid even appearing to move on the exterior of their costume. The froth moved as the boy pretended to drink from it and blew into the audience as he blew it over.
The girl, younger than the boy, stared dazed, smiling out at the audience. She waved occasionally, but her district partner was clowning around, hogging the spotlight.
"He knows how to put on a show," Haspereek commented, beaming with pride. "Rolath, is Candice okay?"
"I think she's spacing out. She . . ." he hesitated, knowing there were ears. "She doesn't really need to do anything, just look pretty and wave."
"She's getting upstaged, badly. Everyone's going to be paying attention to Brody and no one will remember her at all. See if you can signal her to do something." Rolath looked at her and Joran could see the terror in his eyes. Making himself stand out in the middle of a crowd was one of Rolath's absolute worst nightmares. He remembered watching Rolath's games, watching him fumble through the interviews, playing up his sweeter, softer nature.
"Candice!" Joran shouted out louder than the rest of the crowd. He couldn't stand the thought of just standing there. The tribute started, clearly surprised the anyone knew her name and then she slipped and fell to the chariot floor. Joran groaned. Three downed tributes in one parade. Maybe these would go down as the clutziest games in history.
Brody didn't seem to notice, he was too busy playing up the crowd, messing with the foam atop his own head now.
Candice got to her feet again and waved. She must have seen her mentor because she waved furiously in Rolath's direction. Rolath and Joran waved back, hoping she'd harness that energy for the rest of the parade.
Steric Tarthan – District 10 Mentor
"Here comes the roadkill," Steric commented as District 10's chariot pulled forward.
"It cannot possibly be that bad," Wolfgang commented, but Steric gave him a knowing look.
"Just wait," she whispered, her voice full of meaning, anticipation and then she scoffed. "I was right."
She certainly was. Steric planted her hands on her hips pleased with herself that she could anticipate every ounce of stupidity that was brought through the festivities of the Hunger Games.
Her two tributes emerged all covered in white, fleece as white as snow. It was perfect. Combined with their size and demeanor the stylists had perhaps seen what Steric herself had seen since the day of the Reapings, two lambs, being hopelessly led to the slaughter. They had their backs turned to her, but she could already guess which one was which. One of them was trembling hopelessly, clinging to the back edge of the chariot. It seemed as though she even had a leash attaching her to her district partner in the hopes that she wouldn't collapse or fall of and be trampled. That would surely be a more merciful demise than whatever the arena had in store.
Mobie turned and managed a slight wave to each side of the crowd. There was terror in his eyes, wide as though he saw his life passing before them, yet he managed to smile.
"Tributes like that should never be Reaped," Steric heard a voice echoing her own thoughts. For the slightest of moments, she feared she herself had spoken them aloud, but then she turned and faced Excelcia. She felt a shiver run down her own back, feeling like her older tribute must right now.
"Don't tell me you haven't thought that," Excelcia pressed. "Or at least someone should have volunteered for them. In my opinion, we don't have enough volunteers in these Games. Even in the outer districts, it's an honor to fight, to represent, to spare the more vulnerable, the more broken, such a painful fate. It hurts morale, really, for everyone, to have them here." She looked pointedly towards the crowd for a moment, seeming as though she was seeking out someone in particular.
"I couldn't agree more," was all Steric could manage with a smirk. In all the years that she had been mentoring, she and Excelcia, the first Victor, had never really spoken. Even among the Victors, Excelcia was a legend, aloof, better than any of the other Victors. Steric had always regarded her as someone better to be avoided, lest she anger her. Steric could deal with angering some people, she had that effect on many people, but certain people just had a dangerous vibe about them, a sense that if you valued your life their wrath would never be directed at you.
Steric breathed a sigh of relief when Excelcia returned to her place beside Mags. She ventured a glance at her out of the corner of her eye, trying to figure out what the first Victor had been looking for, who she had been seeking. Excelcia didn't look like she particularly wanted to be there either, she never really fit in with the other Victors. Yet here she was, standing beside them for the first time in years and Steric couldn't help but wonder what had brought her.
Iris Corolin – District Three Mentor
"Okay, so there have decidedly been worse chariots than ours, you can stop guffawing over every single one of them!" Iris begged. Leunam hadn't stopped laughing since the brains had come. He'd paused, yes, but every single new chariot seemed to tickle his funny bone once again. Iris was certain he was getting all varieties of dirty looks from spectators of all walks of life. Seriously, who laughed themselves to death right before the Hunger Games?
"Okay, okay, I promise. I won't laugh at this one," he said, breathing and sobering up. Iris sighed in relief as District Eleven's chariot pulled forward, showing no signs of anything remotely hilarious.
The boy was dressed in a tuxedo and the girl in a gown. Both were adorned with gorgeous autumn leaves, reflecting golden hues, auburn colors, and spectacular reds into the night sky. Atop their heads were headdresses of leaves. The wind picked up and brushed one of the leaves into the girl's face. It got tangled in her hair. She recovered quickly and with a controlled dignity waved again to the crowd as her district partner's face brimmed with cheer.
Leunam began chuckling.
"It's really not that funny. Look, nothing's funny, everything is proceeding as normal!" Iris was nearly yelling at him in desperation as the chariot continued past them, both tributes successfully playing up the Capitolites for their attention. Meanwhile Leunam, finding something about the situation absolutely hilarious, continued laughing aloud.
Iris gave up, fixing her attention on the parade before him and, for the last chariot, pretending that she didn't know her fellow mentor at all.
Ava Ermingard - District Six Mentor
At first Ava thought the chariot hadn't come, that it was running late. It seemed as though all that had followed District 11's chariot was a darkness.
Then she heard the hoofbeats and the chariot was before them. The only trouble was they couldn't see the tributes. The entire chariot was consumed in smoke. There were no flames, only a huge billowing pillar of smoke extending as far as the eye could see behind the horses.
"Hands down worst idea," she heard Aphrodite mumble beside her and she placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as the chariot passed.
"They have time to make a better impression," Ava tried to cheer her up and Aphrodite nodded. It was hard, Ava knew, mentoring your first year, especially for someone who hadn't been through it, who didn't have a feel for the Games.
"If you need anything throughout this, we're here for you," Ava encouraged her as the crowd silenced itself for the President's welcome speech. After he concluded all hell broke loose as the masses squabbled to get to either their tributes or the exits.
Khalani Averik – District 1
"They couldn't see us at all," Saphyra whined as she and Killian started back to their quarters. It had been a long day for all of them and they had a lot of work to do, but all Saphyra wanted to do now was train. Killian on the other hand seemed as though he just wanted to settle down and prepare for tomorrow.
"Go to bed. I'll stay up and chat with Saphyra." Killian didn't pause for a second.
"Can I murder my stylist before the interviews?" Saphyra proposed. "I don't want her to ruin those for me too."
"I'll talk to her," Khalani promised.
Aphrodite Aurelius – District 12
"They couldn't see us at all," Tanner plopped down, seemingly defeated. Aphrodite knew better. After a long day he was simply exhausted and ready for bed.
"You weren't the only ones, trust me," she encouraged. "Besides, you'll have the next four days to make an impression. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow will be another impactful day."
To her surprise, both of her tributes agreed, leaving her to gaze at the artificial stars on her ceiling, all alone in the night.
Elric Trace – District 5
"You were both wonderful. Eye popping. I must remember to complement your stylists."
"Thank you," Elric said politely, smiling up at her without a side glance at Alorea, who, as usual had drifted off.
"Yes, I almost forgot we were trying to attract people's attention rather than start a panic," Altair commented snarkily, dismounting from the chariot in a huff and stalking off to her quarters. The other three followed her.
Wolfgang Haberdasher – District 8
"They're idiots. They couldn't see us at all and made us look like fools!" Margery erupted for the fifth time.
"Yeah, it was dumb, but it's not the end of the world," Leoric added his voice to the conversation. He'd tried to go to bed, but after a few moments had determined the same thing that Wolfgang had: it would be useless to try with Margery's yelling. Cassius had disappeared again, his absence probably for the best. They both braced themselves for what would doubtlessly be a very long night.
Glade Harborn – District 2
"Well, at least they could see you," Glade said encouragingly as he and his tributes headed off to their quarters. Nero nodded, his modesty seemingly intact.
"That was so embarrassing," Dane muttered, clearly unhappy about the entire situation. "I'm married. I don't go showing off my body."
"We'll see if we can make adjustments for your interview outfit," Glade promised. He saw Echo nodding at him, probably impressed that he was showing some signs of being interested in these young ones. After so many years, he was surprised that she didn't know better. He would see this through, no matter what.
Leunam Valeries – District 3
"That was creative," Leunam managed, smirking. He heard Iris sigh beside him. It was the first complete sentence he'd been able to string together in over an hour.
Neither Ailis nor Raivel seemed phased. They were both still in their costumes even though they'd been back in their quarters for a good ten minutes.
"Why are you two still awake? Get some rest." Two sentences. Iris should be proud. Instead she was rolling her eyes.
"We're waiting for your advice," Ailis commented anxiously.
"Well, first I should apologize. I could have been more analytical at the parade. You know how sometimes something tickles your funny bone and you can't do anything about it. . ." both tributes looked at him blankly. "Well, in any case, I'm sorry. My advice is get some sleep and we'll regroup in the morning. Goodnight." With that, both brains went to get some shut eye.
Ava Ermingard – District 6
"Your outfits were the most intricate!" Ava complemented her tributes, brimming with pride as the four of them returned to their quarters. Even Joran was smiling, despite clearly being anxious to get the tributes to bed and go enjoy the Capitol nightlife. "The crowd was thoroughly impressed. They'll surely remember you."
"They'd better," Tavia said fiercely. "It's late. I'm going to bed."
And just like that their evening was over and Joran's had just begun. Ava heard the door woosh behind him and he was gone.
Rolath Dornel – District 9
"Bro, that was so fun!" Brody hit Rolath on the arm in an attempt to bond with him. Clearly the fake alcohol had managed to go to his head. "We had the best costumes out there. Who else comes in dressed like beer? District 9!"
"Alright, Brody," let's go inside, Haspereek ushered him in the direction of their building before he managed to draw any negative attention.
"You okay?" Rolath asked Candice.
"Yeah. I didn't expect to fall, though."
"Yo, Candice, I know you're not a bro, because bros don't let broverages like beer spill," Brody shot back his bad pun. Rolath rolled his eyes.
"Do you want to go in?" he asked. Candice nodded, her eyes already drooping from fatigue.
Aeden Sanderling – District 7 Mentor
"That was so much fun!" Bailey danced over to Aeden, still adorned in her willow costume. He hadn't moved from the place he'd taken a seat with Esthelrir, who was still waiting for his tributes to find him.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, young one," Esthelrir smiled.
"You did a good job, Bailey," Aeden complemented her, managing a smile. He just hoped it would be enough, enough to ensure that she had confidence in herself.
"These costumes are ridiculous," Jonas complained. "I told my stylist that our district doesn't even use willows for lumber. I blatantly accused them of sentimentality and gave them a full lecture on other trees that would be more appropriate, or other options if they wanted to expand their creative abilities. Clearly this was all to no avail. They prefer misplaced sentimentality."
Aeden sighed. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with Jonas. He felt Esthelrir give him a gentle pat.
"Where are you, old man?" a girl's voice filled the stadium. Aeden didn't need to know her voice to know it was Esthelrir's female tribute.
"I should be saying goodnight. A pleasure to meet you Miss Therms and Mr. Tanner." Aeden sighed and tried to tune out whatever Jonas was saying as they reached the sanctuary of their quarters.
Esthelrir Grey – District 11
"Do you think it worked?" Ridge asked hopefully. Esthelrir smiled. Marune had just asked the same question, but anyone would have answered yes to her. Ridge wanted a truthful answer.
"Yes," Esthelrir answered. "I think you both got the attention that you needed. Now all you have to decide is what to do with it." He smirked gently as Ridge pondered that. Marune rolled her eyes, but he hoped that deep within her there was something that was pondering the same thing.
Excelcia Mercilus – District 4
"Both of you have tremendous amounts of work to do in four days," Excelcia began. Freida and Ibrahima had stopped squabbling the instant she had come over. She had said nothing, simply stared them down as though her eyes were boring into their souls. "You simply cannot behave like that, especially if you are to be allies. Even if you do not ally, you must represent the Games with dignity, represent our district with honor. Do you understand?"
Both of them nodded meekly, acting more like the lambs of District 10 than the fishers of District 4 now.
"Good. I expect better in the morning."
Steric Tarthan – District 10
"You have to let me undo you, Nina," Steric ordered, frustrated. Not only had the stylists leashed Nina to her district partner, but they had also physically attached her to the cart. Mobie was free and was loyally lingering by the chariot waiting for Nina, but the girl was no closer to being off the chariot and in bed than she had been half an hour ago.
"You don't want to sleep out here, do you?" Steric demanded, feeling fatigued herself. The girl was still on the chariot floor, crying furiously.
"Here," Cassius snuck up behind Steric. He reached into the chariot and snuck his hand around Nina to where she was fastened. At long last the buckle came free. "You're no longer bound."
Nina, finally registering that she was free leapt from the chariot and sprinted wordlessly to their quarters.
"What conquest brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?"