Training Day 1 – Embrace the Means
Altair Ellion – District 5 Female
"Remember, be careful, I guess," Ebba's voice trailed off as the doors leading to the training center shut behind her. She was trying, Altair knew, but Ebba was their escort, not their mentor. From this point on Altair was certain she and Elric were on their own.
She let the silence consume them. Elric was tapping his foot antsily and she could relate. She knew he just wanted to get to this, rather than standing in an abandoned hallway. Due to Ebba's promptness, she and Elric were the first tributes there.
"I guess we just wait," he suggested, obviously trying not to complain.
"No one's here," Altair observed. Elric nodded, yawning. She smirked in agreement. If Altair hadn't naturally been a morning person this would have been a terribly early hour. Didn't the Capitol realize that sleep was essential to training?
They waited around for what seemed like hours, too early in the morning for either of them to speak.
"It's been half an hour,"Elric stated, looking at the massive clock that stood before what were probably the doors to the training center. Altair sighed. Six thirty and still no one.
"The early bird gets the worm," Altair commented in snarky tone. Elric started pacing again, then, probably realizing they'd been over every single inch of the small hallway leaned on the door, hoping something would happen. To both of their surprise, it gave way, opening into the training center. Elric dashed back in surprise, but Altair had caught a glimpse of something in the brief opening, a light that didn't seem like what she'd imagined the training center to be. The light seemed to be summoning her forward, or maybe she just wanted to get out of the dreary hallway.
"Don't," she heard Elric say behind her as she re-opened the door, it giving way easily once more. His plea fell on deaf ears as she stepped through.
What she saw made her forget everything that was to come. The floor beneath her face wasn't cold hard concrete, but an elaborate red carpet, covering the length of the expansive room. It was the largest room Altair had ever seen and certainly the most elaborate. Seats were lined every couple of quarters, though she wasn't entirely certain why. All the way at the back was an elevated balcony, gloriously adorned with cherubs on the left and the right. They were dimly lit, but it even seemed as though they were smiling in their own way. This was hardly the labyrinth of a killer.
The sound behind her startled Altair as it echoed off of the walls, but she turned and saw Elric shrugging his shoulders. Clearly this option was preferable to waiting by himself in the abandoned hallway.
And then she saw it, the finishing touch of the room she had somehow overlooked when she walked in. At the front of the room stood an immense stage, dimly lit now, but with lights poised and ready above it. She could almost hear symphony music in her head as she approached, breathless at the spectacle. They were in an auditorium any performer dreamed of setting foot in, of breathing in the air that performers of the past had sucked in, standing where they had stood. Altair climbed the four stairs and was standing on the stage, blown away by the awe of the place. If she could just play her violin in a place like this, just once she would know that there was true beauty in the world. After all the years of playing on the street, years of playing what people wanted to hear, even if it was an affront to the beauty of the instrument, a moment of purity here would transform that into a beautiful melody.
"Are you sure we're in the right place?" Elric whispered, breaking Altair from her musings. Almost at that moment, the lights flashed on, blinding both of them.
"You're early," A surprised male voice observed. "The other tributes are just arriving. You are the two little power drainers from five, aren't you. You seem to have the opposite effect on the lights here, Ms. Ellion." The lights dimmed to a level at which they could actually see and Altair could tell that it was the head Game maker, Brutus Laertes, standing before them. "Look around for a moment. The others will join you soon." He nodded as a means of acknowledging both tributes, then headed in the direction of the balcony. It was then that Altair saw the swords in a large container by the curtain of the stage.
"We're definitely in the wrong place," Altair commented as she eyed the weapons. Even the weapons, combined with the sound of the other tributes rushing in couldn't contain Altair's momentary bliss. The music of their feet met abruptly, the sound of 22 people dashing the stage, seeing the weapons. Several of the careers were already eyeing them eagerly. Altair sighed, her moment in the spotlight once again stolen from her. Slightly dejected, the dismounted the stage, leaving Elric to fend for himself as she wandered towards the camouflage station.
This would be more useful to her in the long run, after all, she thought as she observed the work being done there. Paintbrushes, delicate instruments, were more familiar to her hands than a sword would have been, easier to learn in the time she had and easier to keep her head down, avoid any undesired interactions. She set to work, beginning with something that seemed easy, blending in with the grass. Who knew what the arena would be like, so she figured this would be as good a subject as any with which to begin.
"You really think that's going to help?" a girl's voice scoffed behind her loudly. It was clear it was meant to be heard and responded to. Altair didn't care. The streets had trained her well to ignore unwanted comments, so she kept her back turned, unflinchingly focused on her work.
"Girl, I'm talking to you," the girl repeated again, her hand forcefully grasping Altair's shoulder. "You got here early, I saw that. Isn't that a bit of an unfair advantage?" Altair still ignored her. From her entire demeanor it was clear that this girl was nothing more than a bully, someone who would surely go away if she was ignored for long enough. "I'm trying to do you a favor, girl. In the arena don't turn your back on people, you look them in the face."
Altair wasn't fooled for a minute. She could hear the girl's voice taking on an affected, honeyed tone. She was trying too hard, but she was starting to make a scene and if she didn't want any more eyes on her Altair would have to comply. Reluctantly she turned and was face to face with the girl from Eleven. Neither of them spoke for a moment, the other girl smirking.
"That's better," she said, finally. "Now, what to do with you."
"Move on, Marune," a boy's voice said and Altair could see the girl's eyes flash in anger for a moment. The boy meant it, though. Altair couldn't see him beyond the girl's figure. The other girl sighed and, momentarily defeated, she leaned in to whisper something to Altair.
"Wait till the arena," she whispered, smirking for a moment, and then slinking off towards the weight training stations.
"Thank you," Altair said, her eyes still too downcast to see the boy. She didn't like being indebted to anyone besides the family she'd found on the streets.
"I know what it's like to be bullied and I don't like seeing it if there's something I can do about it. But, hey, what goes around comes around, right?" Something in his voice, an almost carefree quality made Altair look up. The boy who had come to her aid was the boy from 11, the girl's own District Partner. "I'm Ridge," he said, introducing himself.
"Altair," she said, returning the favor hesitantly, and then returned to her work, assuming he'd want to go elsewhere. He was one of the outer district tributes that the Capitolites surely thought had a chance, charming and capable. He had no business in the presence of a street rat.
The boy didn't leave, though. He surveyed the rest of the arena briefly, eyeing the stage with as much fear as Altair had. There was already a line forming of tributes ready to have a spear in their hand. To Altair's relief, Elric wasn't among them.
"What do you think the arena will be like?" Ridge ventured, catching Altair off guard again. "We can't prepare for survival skills for everything, so it's our best guess, I guess. Your guess is probably better than mine."
"Anything but a city," Altair ventured. She didn't think she could stand to endure a fight to the death in the same scene that had been her daily struggle for life.
Ridge smiled, picking up a brush. "Well, that's a start, I guess."
Dane Vauntier – District 2 Female
It was a start, Dane thought, as she picked up a sword, one of the most familiar weapons to her. She'd used it once or twice in secret training with her sister, but had never thought she would have to wield it again. Now here, she found herself face to face opposing a trainer. In three days, she would be facing these very other tributes.
Instead of the trainer's face, though she could see the reason she needed to survive before her face, her husband, her sister. None of the other tributes were married, none knew the love she did. She deserved to be the Victor, deserved to be back there with her husband, deserved their happily ever after.
Thud! Dane was thrown off of her feet to the stage floor. In shock she lay there for a second.
"You can't break your focus, not for one second," the trainer lectured here.
"I was thinking of my motivation," Dane protested.
"Motivation is for actors, artists and people who have time to kill," a voice laughed, but it didn't belong to her trainer. One of the boys to the side of her, one who seemed to have some skill with a blade was breaking his own focus as he beamed at her. Seeing his opportunity, his trainer lunged her, nearly giving him the same treatment that Dane had been given, but quicker, more alert than she had been, the boy regained his balance and struck his trainer with the blade.
"Like that," the boy commented cheekily.
"Again," Dane said determinedly, turning back to her trainer. This time she circled him, her eyes locked on his as she waited his first move. It didn't come. Hers bit at him first.
"Good," he said, parrying back and beginning to slowly lead her in circles. "Mind your footwork."
It was almost like a dance, Dane thought. Like the dances that her step mother had wanted to parade her sisters at, maybe she even had. Some elegant affair in a theatre like this, in costumes not entirely different from what they had worn last night. If only they were in an event like that and not this deadly pageant.
Dane was sweating by the time the trainer dealt her what would have been a fatal blow if they had been using real blades.
"You don't tire easily," the boy from one said. He was still fighting back and forth with his trainer from one side of the stage to the other.
"I can't," Dane explained. "Again," she insisted.
"Let's take a break," the boy from one offered, signaling his trainer to that effect by raising his sword. He placed it back in the container and ushered Dane off the stage. "You're the girl from two, aren't you?" Dane nodded. "Excellent. I'm Killian Odell, District One's male. My district Partner Saphyra is . . ." he trailed off, realizing she wasn't actually at his side. "Well, she was right here. Have you had much training?"
"Enough to get by," Dane managed to say. It wasn't true. She'd trained informally with her step sister Kendra, but her step mother never would have allowed her training more formally. There were instructors for hire, of course, but this expense never would have been lavished on her adopted daughter and she'd never had another opportunity. There had been rumors in school that Echo had been trying to establish a training academy, a place where aspiring tributes, could learn skills that would benefit them in the arena, fighting, survival skills and the like, but the rumor was that Glade had squashed that idea. He had enough of the Games without having to think of them year-round. "What about you?"
"Only since the day I was born," Killian scoffed. "My folks are pretty intent on having their victor and I'm certainly not going to disappoint them."
"Well, I'm pretty intent on getting out myself," Dane smiled widely. They could joke about their intentions now, play allies, since after all, they would need them, but neither of them was fooled. They both wanted to be alive in three weeks and the fact was only one of them would be. "I should get back to training."
"You know there's usually a Career alliance, right?" Killian asked as she turned her attention back to the swords. Dane was torn. She wanted to be with the Careers more than anything, but would they accept her, a tribute who hadn't jumped at the chance to be there? Not a volunteer like the rest of them, but an outsider. And what if they discovered that she was only mildly trained? Would they think her more of a burden than an asset?
"I know," she turned back to him, perching on the edge of the stage. From there she could see the whole training area. There were a couple of outer district tributes at the camouflage station to their left. They were all younger than her, not promising in an alliance. In the back corner closer to the balcony there was a pool, but if there were tributes there she couldn't see them from her vantage point. At the strength training section beside that was a girl by herself, the girl from 11, Dane thought. In a corner of the room the little girl from 12 sat huddled in fetal position.
Then Dane's gaze found Nero sitting in the row of chairs in the middle of the training center, as though he had no cares in the world. There was a blonde girl standing beside him, smiling and laughing.
"There's Saphyra," Killian laughed, as though this whole training thing were a joke. "Come on, let's go say hi to her and the boy she's with."
"That's my district partner," Dane commented.
"Well, it looks as though they're getting along swimmingly," Killian said as he ushered her with him to the row of seats. Dane smiled at the two of them as they approached. Maybe this Career alliance was off to a good start, after all; she only hoped it was the start she needed to end up in her husband's arms again.
Ibrahima Abdulai – District 4 Male Tribute
Ibrahima loved swimming. On hot summer days, more often than not, instead of walking the dogs that he and his father trained, he would swim with them, back and forth in one of the many lakes of District Four. He loved the thrill, but after what must have been his 100th lap in that same pool, Ibrahima had never hated swimming so much in his entire life.
"Don't speak to anyone for the first half of the day. Anyone at all," Excelcia had ordered him emphatically. "Show off your skills, ones no one else will have and let the allies flock to you." He didn't dare disobey Excelcia, so he had found himself swimming back and forth in the same stretch of pool the entire morning.
Ibrahima sighed as he completed yet another lap. He couldn't do it. Mentally he could not lap this pool a single time more. He glanced up at the monstrous clock, conveniently placed on the ceiling, hoping it was time for the noonday meal. No such luck. The stubborn hands read only 11:00.
At that moment, however, Ibrahima saw his salvation. As if in answer to his frustration, a tightrope stretched from each end of the training center above the pool, about 20 feet above the water. He smiled as he rose out of the water, finding the ladder up to the rope.
The rope was more unsteady than he'd anticipated, he discovered as he got to the top, wondering if he could indeed balance on it. He took one foot off the ladder and then the other. The rope held, but swung one way and then the other. Ibrahima closed his eyes, maintaining his balance. He wondered who was watching, who would laugh if he fell into the pool. He fixed his eyes on the other ladder, spanning the entire length of the pool. He took a deep breath. He only needed to get that far and then he would be securely in the pool again. One step, two, three, four. He breathed as he waited for the rope to steady itself again and surveyed his progress. Thanks to his long stride, he was nearly halfway across. Six more steps and he would be there.
"You should have sent me up there!" came a shrill voice from below just as he took a step. Ibrahima precariously planted his foot again, swaying dangerously and flinging his arms every which way. His body went down, but his hands grasped the rope and as its swinging slowed he was still hanging tight, though he feared he might have to crawl the rest of the way.
"Freida, this is not as easy as it looks," he hollered back, uncharacteristically serious. He wouldn't die if he fell, he knew. There was no way the Gamemakers would permit pre-arena deaths, but a fall would surely wound his pride.
"Take your time," the girl shot back. "But the rope's sure getting a workout."
Ibrahima sighed. Just because she was a twig didn't mean she had to make japes about everyone else's weight, especially when his pride was already on the line. Hand over hand, he began to make his way over there. Three quarters of the way he ventured a look down. A boy stood by the ladder, a lanky boy, from 7 maybe. It didn't look like he was going away anytime soon. Ibrahima decided he didn't care, that he would worry about this boy when he was finally off of the rope.
At long last he grasped the ladder, hurling his body back over the side and shakily climbing down.
"That intrepid demonstration of suppleness and daring certainly will be the chief remark of the morning," the boy greeted Ibrahima even before he stepped off of the ladder in a voice almost as grating as Freida's had been while he was balancing on the rope. "Allow me to introduce myself formally. I am Jonas Tanner, the male volunteer from District Seven."
"Pleased to meet you," Ibrahima said breathlessly. "If you don't mind, I'd like a moment."
"By all means," Jonas said, quite accommodatingly. "While you are taking your moment, I'd like to come to the point. You certainly seem to be a self aware, highly desireable young man, so I won't mesh the air with banteable words without effect. I am disposed to propose an alliance between the two of us."
Ibrahima nearly choked on the breath of air he had sucked in and stifled a chuckle.
"Do you find this so amusing?"
"No, it's just my mentor told me not to be too eager in choosing allies. It's advice I've heard a lot actually. You seem pretty hasty."
"I possess exquisite tastes and a superior intellect, so I ought to have superior allies to match this," Jonas said, taken aback. Ibrahima's head was starting to hurt just trying to understand his fancy speech. Was everyone in seven so difficult?
"Yeah, just show me you're worth it."
"I've just detailed . . ."
"Show me," Ibrahima interrupted, impatient.
"Very well. Watch this," Jonas declared, moving Ibrahima from the ladder where he was sitting and scaling it. Ibrahima sighed. This boy was persistent if nothing else. Undoubtedly his size would lend itself to this task. Balancing on a rope was made for tributes his size.
Ibrahima dared to look up and surely the boy was well over halfway, speeding along the thin rope as if it were no difficulty at all. District seven, Ibrahima thought, of course. They spent half their lives in trees, no wonder this boy felt at home there. Maybe they could get him to remain there for the rest of their training.
It looked as though the boy was going to cross without incident when, all of a sudden the rope began to sway vigorously, more than it had even under Ibrahima's weight. Jonas swayed, flaying his arms, remaining upright. Then, despite his best efforts, the rope began to crumple, falling of its own accord to the pool. With a scream, Jonas entered the water, the ladder collapsing as well.
Ibrahima looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. Beside the far ladder stood Freida, shrugging her shoulders innocently, her foot on the ladder that had fallen.
Jonas emerged from the pool, drenched, met with giggles from both himself and Freida, a handful of the other tributes, and maybe even from the Gamemakers.
Just then, a welcome gong sounded, announcing the noon meal.
Brody Punter – District 9 Male
"This brotisserie chicken could not taste better! Bro, did you see that Bro-epic fail? That kid from seven never should have been up on that high wire. It's a brincredible thing he didn't break his neck or drown or something," Brody didn't care that the kid was sitting at a lunch table right behind him, no doubt hanging his head in shame. As well he should be. He'd just written himself out of the bro-lliance.
"I didn't even know kids from seven could swim," the boy, from 8, Brody thought, sitting across from him laughed.
"If that's what you can call it," the girl beside him, his dark haired district partner, scoffed. "He looked more like a drowned rat."
"Whatever, what matters is that he made it out and made a royal fool of himself," Leoric finished loudly, setting back to work on his lunch.
"Bro, I was going to go to the strength training area after lunch, do a bro-show of some of my muscles for the ladies, but I saw this bro-riffic wrestling mat that no one was using this morning. It's tucked off in the corner right by the stage. Want to have a bro-outing there?" Haspereek had encouraged him to find allies and show off some of his strengths early. She'd agreed with him that the first day was the day to shine. The second and third day he would tone it down a little, just a little, once he'd gotten his bro-lliance set.
"Sure," Leoric replied, wiping his plate clean. "I'm ready."
Brody smirked as he and the other boy stood and approached the mat. This would be a glorious opportunity for him to show off his skills. The boy was his match, a worthy opponent and not one of the Careers. He had considered going after them for a brief second since the bros from 1, 2, and 4 seemed all right, but Haspereek had been firm about only one thing: avoid the careers. He agreed. Careers were always trouble, but when push came to shove and they stood against each other in the arena Brody had no doubt that his bro-lliance would be victorious.
"So, that was your district partner?" Brody mused as they meandered past the useless survival stations. Who needed those anyhow?
"Sure was. In all her warm and cuddly glory," Leoric sighed sarcastically.
"At least she's pretty good eye candy for the train ride up here and the next couple nights. Mine, well, put it mildly, bros before hoes, right broski."
"She's one of the younger ones, right?" Leoric asked.
"Thirteen or something. Don't know, don't really care. We've got to be bro-active and stick together, right, man?"
"Of course. She sticks around me, I think mostly for comfort, but I'm hoping she'll branch off, find her own niche. I'd hate for it to come down to her and me."
"Bro, I'm not even thinking that far ahead yet. Right now, we just gotta be bro-active and bro-bond. You bropared to bro-down?" Brody asked as he took his position on the side of the matt opposite Leoric. The older, larger boy certainly seemed to be ready, but Brody wasn't afraid. He wasn't going to let what had happened to the boy from 7 happen to him. He wouldn't get in over his head. He was the Bro-king, after all.
Whoosh, Leoric came right at him, nearly knocking Brody off his feet. He struggled and fought the boy, but he could already tell the other boy was a match for his strength. Brody pushed back with a force Leoric wasn't expecting. They teetered, intertwined, back and forth. Brody felt his skull cap coming off as the two of them tumbled to the matt.
As they hit, Brody saw his chance and rolled on top of Leoric. Before the older boy could react he pinned his arms down. He struggled for a second, but Brody had gotten the upper hand.
"I give," Leoric said after a moment and Brody smiled victorious.
"Nice job. I underestimated you," Leoric excused himself, brushing himself off from the tussle. "I'll know better next time."
"Bro, you're a tough match. How would you like to be a bro in my bro-lliance?" Brody asked, extending his hand.
"Sure," Leoric agreed. "I'd be thrilled to have someone like you by my side."
"Now we've got to look for more. Build our brorces full of our fellow brotagonists. This is going to be bro-tastic." Brody grinned widely. "Hey, where's my cap?" Brody whirled around and checked the floor where it might have fallen. "I had it when we came over here. It was on, bro."
"We'll find it," Leoric assured him as they headed off to another station.
Tavia Peri – District 6
She wanted to do something! Tavia had spent the entire morning watching the other tributes like Joran had told her to, but her time had come.
She'd been eying up a couple of the other tributes. To her dismay, most of the careers had avoided showing off, with the exception of the boy from 4 and the girl from 2. The two from one and the boy from two had been clicking and it looked as though the girl from 2 had been roped in too. Joran may have been right when he had said she'd have no chance against them.
She glanced over at the wrestling match where two good locking guys were having it out. They were shaking hands now, looking pretty chummy. By the way the boy from 9 had been acting, looking at all the girls as though they were pieces of meat, they were out of the question. Then there were the younger tributes. No way.
"Would you watch where you're throwing that rope," Tavia sighed as Jayanti hit her once more with the rope with which he had been tying knots. He was good, Tavia realized, but knots wouldn't save them in the arena. She'd been with Jayanti all morning, with him barely saying a word, just tying knots, never leaving her side, as though they were already allies. He was a bit of home, Tavia admitted, but he was almost equally as useless as the twelve year olds she with whom she refused to ally.
Of the tributes in the training area there were a couple who caught her attention: the girl Joran had warned her about from 8 and the boy from 12, an attractive 18 year old. She could tell she'd have to do something to attract his attention, to get him to her.
He was moving in her direction. Tavia ran her fingers through her long hair. He reminded her of Hadrian, she thought as the boy seemed to glance in her direction.
"I'm going to the stage," Tavia declared. "Only follow me if you're planning on doing something constructive." She almost felt bad, but she needed to make this clear. She needed an alliance with someone who could benefit her, who would serve her needs. Jayanti couldn't.
Before her district partner could protest, Tavia dashed towards the stage, butting forward to the front of the line. She'd been eying the spears for a while, dying to get her hands on them and now she picked one from the vast barrel of weapons. She'd never held one before, so she steadied herself, determined. Focusing on her target, she heaved the spear, hitting it just shy of the center. She smiled to herself and tried a second time. This one was further, but still on the target. It almost reminded her of playing darts with Hadrian, except with a heavier object obviously.
She looked over her shoulder. Sure enough Tanner was glancing at her, making his way to the stairs leading up to the stage. She could feel her breath quickening, knowing the pressure was on, the pressure to prove herself.
She could do this. She was 18, strong and driven. Of course this boy would consider her an exceptional ally.
She ran her fingers through her hair one more time, remembering when her sister did that, when Hadrian did the same. These were the things she was fighting to return to right now.
She let the spear fly a third time and it hit its mark solidly.
"You seem like a natural," a male voice came from behind her. "This can't be your first time holding a weapon." Tavia smiled. It had worked Tanner was standing on the stage beside her.
"My first time with anything like this," Tavia admitted, whispering so only he could hear her. The stage had cleared of everyone else, they were the sole players on the stage.
"Care to let me try my luck?" the boy asked, picking up his own spear. He aimed, and landed his spear in the target beside her second throw. She picked up another, smirking widely. It struck the outside of the first ring, nearly a bull's eye. The boy's second throw made the target shake with the strength behind it.
"That was forceful," Tavia exclaimed.
"Yours was better, unlike anything I've ever seen. I've worked in the mines, so I'm naturally strong, but you, there's got to be some unusual strength. Show me another one. I bet you hit it dead center."
Tavia took a deep breath, re-centering herself. She could feel she was so close to her goal, so close to having an ally she could trust.
She released the spear.
"A perfect hit," the boy grinned, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm Tanner, by the way."
"I'm Tavia," she introduced herself, running a hand through her hair, using her feminine wiles to her best ability. "Let's make a deal," she said, her smile glimmering. "I want you by my side in the arena. We both need allies we can trust. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours."
"Sounds fair enough," Tanner replied. "What about others?"
"Did you have anyone in mind?"
"All in due time," Tanner replied. "I have the most beautiful tribute in the arena as my ally, now the rest will fall in line." As though taking her cue, Tanner reached out, stroking her hair.
"The other tributes are going to flock to you," Tavia whispered. She'd seen it already. The boy from 9 had been eying Tanner earlier, but he too had felt the need to prove himself first, showing off by fighting the boy from 8. "I want allies who will take care of me too. Your allies are mine."
"Done," Tanner smiled, his blue eyes sparkling and Tavia felt a shiver run down her spine. Maybe it was his similarity to Hadrian, maybe it was just a deep attraction, but she could feel something deep within her raging. Adrenaline, endorphins, she wasn't sure. She ran her tongue over her lips.
Tanner looked her in the eyes.
"Maybe there's something else we both want," he whispered. She felt his hand on hers and she took it as he led her back behind the curtains, into a sweetness that made her almost forget the arena to come.
Marune Xantone – District 11
Thud. The weights clanked ominously down again as Marune finished yet another set. Her arms burned, but she could feel her spirit strengthened. She fought to suppress a wide smile as some of the other tributes passed her, probably the careers.
They hadn't done a thing but hang around and goof off all day. It was getting late and she had been building her muscles all day. Her arms burned in satisfaction and she could feel her legs bursting with adrenaline.
She rose from the set of weights, arms and legs firmly planted on the floor and took a couple of steps, surveying the training area. It was time to move on to another station, but she wasn't sure where to go, where would make the most impression.
"Don't make yourself a target," Esthelrir's advice from this morning echoed in her head and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She was from District 11, if that didn't scream "underestimate me" nothing did.
The careers would ignore her and she didn't see anyone else who could be a threat. It was only a matter of time until they hit the arena, until she made her moves. She could have her pick of the bunch, but she would wait, figure out who would submit, who she wanted.
She had been thinking the boy from 12 might be useful, but he had clearly made the inferior choice of philandering with the girl from 6, a mistake he would surely live to regret.
A lot of the others were younger, useless, she would be better off without them. And Ridge, well he was still mingling with the milder natured little ones at the camouflage station. She would be keeping her distance from them, knowing they were only cannon fodder in the end, only fuel for the flames.
It was then that she spotted it; among the other weapons on the stage was a sais. Marune had always wanted to hold one of these. She had dreamed of using these on so many people who frustrated her back home, her mother, her father, the juvenile children at school. Now she would have the opportunity to lash out for real, to try her hand at the real thing.
The sais was light in her hand, as though it belonged there.
"Ready?" The trainer asked. Marune couldn't help but smirk as the dance began. He was taking her on on an empty stage, only the two of them sparring back and forth. It was natural, moving back and forth between the two of them, parrying, thrusting. She could see his moves before he made them and then, when he least expected it, she circled around him, leaping on his back. Instead of thrusting with the knife, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a headlock. The two of them collapsed to the stage floor and the trainer groaned in pain. Marune arose, victorious.
She could feel the eyes on her. If they hadn't noticed her earlier when she was at the weight station there were certainly eyes on her now. She smirked, knowing it was a fine line she was walking. She didn't care. Marune wanted the right eyes on her, the eyes that would be the means to her survival. That's all they were in the end, after all, just people to be used.
She nodded to the trainer and dismounted the stage.
"You're very talented with a blade," a girl said, approaching her. Marune couldn't remember which district was from. They hadn't really seen each other yet, since District eleven had been stuck in ridiculous outfits all the way at the back of the parade. The girl had dark hair and stood a bit shorter than Marune, but seemed to be around the same age.
"Thank you," Marune returned the girl's smile. "Maybe you should show us your skills."
"I'm more comfortable with the survival skills," the girl said, looking down, dejected. "I'm nowhere near as talented as you. I'm Margery," she said, extending her hand for a shake. Marune looked down at it, but didn't extend her own.
"You know you're going to need more than that to stay alive, right?" Marune retorted, obvious condescending in her voice.
"Don't remind me of that," the girl whimpered, her eyes downcast again, looking as though she might cry. "It's just so difficult leaving your family and then right away being expected to do this. Who can stomach this?" She slumped to the floor. "There's so much at stake."
"Of course there is, it's the Hunger Games," Marune scoffed. "What district are you from?" Marune demanded. This had to be the girl from 12, that was the only district that could have produced such a basketcase.
"Eight," the Margery replied.
This was pointless, Marune thought. Here she was in an arena of tributes and she was hands down the favorite besides the careers and she was here with a sniveling girl. She nearly turned her back on her.
"Could you teach me?" Margery asked hesitantly as Marune started to walk away.
"You can't learn knife skills in two days," Marune scorned her, beginning to walk away.
"You don't need to be taught," an outraged voice came from behind them, taking Marune off guard. She turned to see a petite blonde haired girl staring at the two of them. She was one of the girls who had been wandering, mixing in with the other tributes earlier. "She already knows how to use a knife. Isn't it obvious? She's from district 8, everyone there has to use knives, scissors, whatever they can get their hands on in order to do their work."
"I didn't have to work. My family was wealthy. I shouldn't even be here. Please teach me." Margery argued, but now Marune could see through her disguise. She was a scared girl who wanted allies, who needed allies. Regardless, she was scared enough to hide her own talents, which made her stupid. Yet if she had the skills the other girl claimed she did, she might be useful.
"Maybe I'll teach you tomorrow if you don't piss me off," Marune spat back, turning her back.
Ailis Neilan – District 3
"What did that all mean?" Ailis wondered aloud as Marune walked away in a huff. Clearly this girl didn't know the first thing about winning friends and influencing people. Her mentor must have not told her that the Games were nothing short of a popularity contest with deadly consequences. Yes, there was skill involved, with blades, with survival, but everything boiled down to people.
"So was I right?" Ailis asked, turning her attention back to Margery.
"About which part?" she younger girl asked, raising her eyes a little. It certainly didn't look like she'd actually been crying. Had that all been an act for some reason? It seemed as though this girl might, in fact, understand the true purpose of the games.
"Any and all of it. You do know how to use a knife, don't you and you're absolutely from the worker class." Margery nodded, confirming Ailis's analysis.
"How did you know?"
"Experience with a lot of walks of life," Ailis reflected. "My family's rich, at least for District three, but my best friend is from one of the poorer families." Ailis knew she should have stopped there. Leunam had warned her not to get attached, to remember the ultimate end of the Games, but that was still so far away. "I've always wanted to help out people who weren't as well off as my family, so I kind of know the look of it. I wish there weren't such poverty in the districts."
She'd crossed the line. Ailis could feel it in Margery's silence. The girl was still looking at her the same way, proud strong, but something in her manner, deep within had changed.
"There's no difference here, though. Rich, poor, once we're in the arena, it doesn't matter at all, does it. It's an entirely different kind of power," Ailis said, trying to reassure her.
"Let's take a walk," Margery suggested, changing the subject.
"Yes, let's," Ailis responded, delight in her voice. "Let's go to the hammock making station," she said, leading the other girl past the stage towards the other side of the training center. On their way across, a little brunette girl, not looking where she was going bumped smack into Ailis. Both of them stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. The younger girl looked up at Ailis, her big blue eyes open wide and she smiled briefly, but then turned in the direction she was already headed.
"That was the girl from 12," Ailis commented. She had barely seen the girl in the parade, but had heard the whispers and had caught a glimpse of her when they had all been eating lunch together. Her cleft palade stigmatized her as one of 12's lower class. "Poor thing," Ailis whispered under her breath.
The hammock making station was all but abandoned when they arrived. Only one girl, the dark skinned girl from 9, Ailis thought, stood there.
"Hi," Ailis greeted her, waving, but the girl didn't respond. She was holding the ropes for the hammock in her hands, but was only moving them back and forth, as though she were dancing with them.
"I think she wants to be left alone," Margery said soothingly. So the two girls set to work, intertwining the ropes as best they could. Hammock construction, though, as it turned out, was a lot more difficult than she ever would have imagined, Ailis thought what must have been an hour later.
"I thought for sure if we put it like this it would actually stay up," she growled in frustration.
"Tie it three times around the branch," a voice came from immediately behind her, making Ailis jump three feet in the air. The girl who hadn't spoken and who Ailis presumed had left or disappeared further into her dream state was behind her, smiling. "Then, if you take the other rope and put it around like this," she instructed, taking the rope from Ailis's hands, "then you'll have it all ready." The girl handed the ropes back to Ailis and stepped back.
Both Ailis and Margery stood there, bewildered. To their amazement, after amending their hammock to the girl's instructions, it stayed where it ought to.
"Thank you," Ailis bubbled gratefully. "I didn't even think you were paying attention, but here you go teaching us more than we could have known. I'm Ailis and this is Margery. What's your name?"
The girl stared off into space once more as though she hadn't heard. Then, all of a sudden she blinked.
"Sorry," she apologized, flashing a grin. "I'm Candace, district 9."
"It's very good to meet you," Ailis gushed again, a familiarity almost like home washing over her. She seemed familiar, Ailis knew. Her mannerisms, her spacey attitude was so like Aliza's. If they were allies it would be just like having a little piece of home with her in the arena. Maybe that little piece would be enough to get her back to the real thing.
Bailey Thermes: District 7
From her perch atop the climbing station, which was a far cry from the tree, Bailey sat watching the tributes below. There were so many of them, she thought, she was overwhelmed by the possibilities, knowing whoever she decided to trust could bring her closer to going home or deliver death at their own hands.
She'd spent the morning being friendly with the other tributes at the edible plants station. Most of the younger tributes, closer to her age had gravitated there, probably to stay away from the larger tributes, work with something more comfortable. She'd chatted happily with the girl from 12, Gloria. The girl from 9 had joined them, but hadn't said much. She seemed quieter, but nice.
That's why Bailey had disappeared after lunch, rushed up the closest thing she could find to a tree. She didn't need nice, she didn't need someone she could get attached to only to lose; as much as she wanted friends, she couldn't afford them. The cost of allies would be high and she couldn't even think of the possibility of watching them die, or, unthinkably, of killing them herself.
Was it better to go it alone? She thought as she caught a glimpse of the dark haired boy from 8 below. He seemed to be forming his own alliance, hanging out with the boy from nine and talking to one of the other boys, Bailey wasn't sure where he was from.
She had to break her eyes away. He seemed to familiar, his dark hair, his dark eyes. He was even around the same age her father would have been when he entered the games. Her father, a man she barely remembered, but still missed every day. Her aunt hadn't allowed her to watch his Games, she had only been four years old at the time, but she had seen flashes when they showed the highlights, heard stories about both his Games and her mother's.
All of a sudden, Bailey felt as though she was being watched. No one from the ground could have seen her. She whirled around and saw a movement on the other side of the pole, just enough to tell it was vanishing from view.
"Who's there?" she asked her voice trembling. Her mind knew there wasn't any danger yet; the tributes weren't allowed to fight with each other or injure each other before getting into the arena. Nevertheless, she could feel her pulse increasing with every breath.
A curly haired boy emerged into view. He couldn't be any older than she was and was about the same size.
"I'm Raivel," he introduced himself, almost as hesitantly as she had been.
"Bailey," she replied. "You're a good climber."
Raivel shrugged and nodded, his shaggy hair bouncing up and down. He was scrawny, but she liked the look of him.
"I haven't seen you around," Bailey ventured. She had run into most of the other tributes, the Careers dominating their own territory, the ones she had met earlier at the survival station, but she hadn't seen this one all day. How had he managed to climb all the way up here?
"What's that in your hand?" she asked. The boy had ventured a little closer to her side of the climbing post so she could see he was clutching something in his right hand, still held behind his back.
The boy smirked, looking as though he was debating whether to show her or not. He kept his hand behind his back for the time being but looked like he might show her.
"What do you miss most about back home?" Bailey ventured, desparate to think about anything besides what was to come, desparate to hear someone's memories besides her own.
"Nothing," Raivel answered.
"What do you mean?" Bailey asked, confused.
"There's not much back home for me to miss."
"What about your family, friends?" Bailey persisted. Surely there must be something this boy had to go back to. Everyone had something they wanted to return to.
"I don't have any," Raivel shrugged. He didn't seem sad about it, just matter of fact. The smirk on his face still remained, as though he was trying to figure out whether or not to trust her.
"I'm sorry," Bailey apologized, her eyes downcast.
"Don't be. It's not so bad."
"My parents both died in the Games when I was little. I barely remember either of them. I always had my Aunt, though. She's practically been my mother in everything but name, but it's not the same," Baily whispered, finishing. It seemed she may have found a kindred spirit, a fellow orphan.
"How could things get any worse for us, right?" Raivel asked. "The way I see it, we're here, things can only get better from here."
"Really?" Bailey asked, stunned.
"Yeah, either we die and our misery is over or one of us wins," Raivel said, still smirking. Bailey couldn't help but force a smile.
"I guess you're right," she whispered. She hesitated for a moment, second guessing what she was about to do. Any move could kill her, she knew, but deep down she had to trust her instincts. "Do you want to be allies?" she asked, bluntly.
Raivel didn't answer in words, but he pulled out what he had been holding behind his back, the boy from 9's cap that had mysteriously disappeared earlier in the day. This surely was a clever boy.
Tanner Amori – District 12 Male
"Don't forget our bargain," Tavia hissed as the two of them emerged back onto the stage. "We're in this together."
"Of course," Tanner whispered smoothly. "Now everyone's about to wrap up for today. Let's see who else we can get on our side before tomorrow. We only have two days after all."
They split in two different directions, Tanner heading one side and Tavia for the other. As she walked away Tanner smiled to himself.
She trusted him, he could sense it and for that Tavia was a fool. He had no intention of holding fast to their bargain, but it was good to have options. She was a competent individual, if too trusting.
Now he was out for himself, exploring his other options.
He ventured over to the fire making station where two of the boys were practicing. One of them seemed as though he was fairly competent, the other just goofing off rubbing two sticks together but stopping every couple of seconds, apparently because his laziness. As Tanner approached he started tapping the sticks together, making a rhythmic drum as opposed to a flame.
"Use the flint too," Tanner said, coming up behind him. "Tanner Amori, District 12."
"Brody Punter of the Brolliance," the boy who had been drumming introduced himself, dropping the two sticks completely and then extending his hand to Tanner. Tanner was less than thrilled that this boy was the one introducing himself while the other was still hard at work, but he smiled in return. Perhaps the two were together.
"This is Leoric Hughes, also of the Brolliance, but far too intensely brocused on making a flame to be bothered," the boy continued to introduce them. So, they were together. That was odd, Tanner thought, wondering how anyone could stomach this boy for more than five minutes. His obsession with the word "bro" and all of its derivations had already perturbed him with the two sentences he had said.
"Try making a bow, that's why they've got the rope and sticks there," Tanner suggested. "That's why they put them there. The leaves will help too. Sometimes the obvious answer is right in front of you."
"How do you know this?" Leoric asked him, looking up for the first time.
"Back home I had to light the fires at home all of the time, so I know how to do this sort of thing."
Leoric set to work making the bow and in no time he had a steady fire going.
"I'll be, bro, that's bro-nificent!" Brody exclaimed, holding out his hands to feel the heat of the fire. In front of him.
"You're a fast learner," Tanner remarked, admiringly. "What else can you do?"
"Bro, didn't you see us throwing down earlier. He's a spectacular wrestler! Almost as good as the bro-master!" Brody exclaimed. "You want to give it a go, bro?"
"I don't think I'd stand a chance against the two of you. It's just nice to see a couple of guys who are actually taking this seriously," Tanner admitted, gesturing towards the Careers. "There are some people who just think they're too good for training."
"Tell me about it," Leoric agreed in a hushed voice. "We've got to take them out once we're in there." There was an urgency in the boy's voice, an understanding.
"No need to get so serious," Brody interjected. "We'll get there, of course."
"Of course we have to get serious. This isn't a game! It's our lives we've got on the line." Tanner snapped, grimacing internally. Brody was trying to exercise authority over Leoric and himself already. He hadn't even committed to an alliance with them and already this boy was rubbing him the wrong way. "I don't know about you, but I've got things I want to get back to back home, so I'm taking all of this seriously."
"Bro, not to call you a brycoprite, but you were just fooling around with that girl," Brody laughed. "Sounds like you're taking this about as seriously as we are."
Without warning, Tanner leapt onto Brody, taking him down easily. He had the boy on size alone and his hardworking body easily overpowered the boy. He didn't punch him, didn't need to, simply held him down as easily as if he were made of paper.
"Okay, bro, I give up," Brody begged from beneath.
"I know what I'm doing," Tanner hissed as he got up off of the other boy. He started to walk away, turning his back on the two boys, too annoyed with Brody to care. He'd shown his dominance and that was enough.
"Join us," Leoric's voice called after him, making Tanner stop in his tracks. Did he want this? He was trying to build an alliance, increase his options, but did he really want to be part of something as goofy sounding as a "brolliance"? On the other hand, the numbers were in his favor now if he had them and Tavia as people to play off of. He surveyed his other options for a moment, scanning the training center. The careers were off limits. The girl from 3 didn't seem like she'd formed an alliance yet, but the pair from 4 seemed as though they were flirting with the career pack. The pair from 5 didn't really attract his attention and most of the others were pretty young. It seemed as though this was his best option.
"Just remember this isn't a game," Tanner said, turning back to the boys.
Brutus Aurelius Head Gamemaker
"Sir, I thought the tributes weren't allowed to fight with each other," Puck commented as the tributes filed out on their way back to their quarters.
"They won't hurt each other," Brutus replied. "You've got to trust them that far, Puck. They know they have to wait for the real show."
"You're certainly different from the previous Gamemakers."
"That's because they only wanted their show and their pound of flesh. I want to make all of these tributes stars, stars that will embrace their destiny.
"Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it."