Valerian Ignatia, 18, District 1
With District 1 being so close to the Capitol, the train ride will take less than a full day. Valerian and Choux will have the advantage of settling into their spaces first. They will be able to greet the other Careers as they arrive, asserting their spot in the alliance. They could even try to take the role of leader if they wanted.
Neither of them want to.
Choux hasn't said much to either mentor, Soraya or Sterling. Valerian doesn't know what to make of her. The way her eyes fall on him, the way that she just doesn't seem to care about anything, it's so unlike the world Val has grown up in.
A luxury he's never had.
He can't even afford to think about Choux or any of the Careers he will be up against. He's too worried about his own situation. Twice now, Soraya has called his new name and he hasn't responded. The train hit a bump and a butter knife slid at him, and he nearly fell out of his chair.
A goddamn butter knife. At least no one saw that stunt.
What would Vitali do? Those four words keep Val going. He's not himself, not anymore. He's his brother. His brother would be brave. His brother would know what to do.
He just needs to be his brother. Why can't he just do that?
"If I were to guess…" Soraya says, trying to reel her tributes back to reality. She's only a year older than both of them, but she's done what they are both striving to do. Win.
"I would wager that Amatus boy is trouble. Don't let your guard down around him. And the other three…it's hard to tell. I would get to know them as soon as you can. Figure out their strengths and weaknesses. What makes them…tick," she says. The pauses in her voice, the uncertainty that she carries with some of her words. Are those how Valerian's words sound to those around him?
It hasn't even been a day and the memory of Vitali Ignatia is falling apart.
"Hey. Why don't I teach you some of what I learned today?" It's no longer Soraya, but Vitali's voice that echoes through his brain.
"Like what?" Valerian had asked. He wasn't dumb. He knew he couldn't learn the same things Vitali was learning.
"Like…this," Vitali had pulled out a notebook. As he flipped through the pages, Val was captivated. Neatly constructed cursive decorated the pages, accompanied by lined drawings of various plants, and animals, and scribbled notes in the paper's margins.
It was beautiful.
Vitali had taught him all he knew. And Valerian never let those memories fade away. They were all he had left. Those memories are the only way Valerian can survive these weeks.
Can he do this?
He knew he couldn't pull this fight off alone. He couldn't tarnish his brother's reputation. He worked so hard to earn it. He earned this spot.
Valerian didn't. Valerian died in the house that fateful day.
He had to do this. He had no choice.
I'm a fraud.
I have to do this.
What would Vitali do?
What should I do?
"Vitali?" Soraya's voice brings him out of the warmth of his memory.
"Sorry, what?" Valerian asks.
"I just asked-are you okay?" her voice shifts to concern and Valerian's heart jumps.
She's already caught me, I've already blown it. It hasn't even been a day-
Choux pushes a glass of water in front of Valerian and he doesn't hesitate to take it.
"Thanks. Yes...I'm okay. I was thinking about…" Valerian doesn't know how to answer. So he fills his mouth with water and desperately hopes Soraya moves away from the conversation.
Luckily for Valerian, Choux takes the silence as an invitation to excuse herself to take a nap. Val too, dismisses himself for a rest, citing a headache from the train's movement.
He doesn't know if they believe him. But they allow him to sneak away to his room. Leaning against the door, he closes his eyes. He's never felt this much tension on his shoulders.
One wrong move and Valerian Ignatia may collapse and never stand up again.
Caliadne "Cali" Karpathos, 18, District 4
As soon as Cali boards the train, she sees her best friend is off. His usual cheery demeanor is smothered under…whatever is taking control of his thoughts.
Cali is familiar with that feeling. She's felt it once or twice since her birthday.
She wants to talk to him. She wants to ensure he knows how much she appreciates what he did. She needs him to know that. Why didn't she tell him then?
She's at a loss for words, that's why.
Is that what's bothering him?
"Ronan," she says. He's on the couch across from her with his head resting in his hand. He doesn't flinch. She says his name again, louder the second time.
Nothing. Even when Nausicaa and Callista walk in he's still lost in his own world.
"Alright. Welcome. Congrats," Callista says, and that's what snaps Ronan out of his trance.
"Thanks," he says. One word, a word Cali had heard him say so many times before. It might as well have been a stranger who said it.
"We've reviewed your files. But we'll still offer separate training plans," Callista offers.
"No, we can train together," Ronan says. His eyes fall to Cali's for the first time since they boarded the train.
She's known him long enough to know what that look means.
Her heart flutters in her chest. She gives him a soft smile – to show she understands.
"Great. Well, there's not much to go over until they televise the reapings. Get comfortable. Eat, if you can," Callista says. It's not her, but Nausicaa who gets up first to pour herself a drink.
(Her hands shake while she pours. Cali pretends not to notice.)
Ronan gets up and Cali only waits a moment before following him. She traverses the train, stumbling into the walls as it begins to take off.
Where did he go? What does he need to say?
She finds him at the very end of the train. A small seating area surrounds them both, the windows showing District 4 shrinking as the train moves away from it.
Away from nothing but bad memories. Cali's skin crawls at the thought of returning to her parent's house.
No. She won't ever have to see them again.
She sits on the couch on the other side of Ronan. His eyes are locked at the window.
Cali can't imagine he's missing his mother's home, either.
"Ronan?" She reaches out for his arm. His eyes fall to hers.
"I have to tell you something," he says. He shifts around on the couch. No position seems comfortable enough for him.
She knows that already, but something about hearing the words spoken out loud makes her anxiety rise. Various thoughts bounce around her head, colliding together to create one incohesive mesh of a topic.
Spit it out, Cali wants to scream. But she's used to suppressing her emotions. She's an expert at it.
The harder her shell, the less likely she'll shatter into a million pieces.
It saved her once before at home.
It may prove to save her in the arena.
But right now, in the sanctity of the train, she can't stand the anticipation.
"What?" she asks.
There's a long pause. He can't find the words.
Should she speak up first? If she breaks the ice…
"Rohan is…alive," he says, his face twitching in every direction. He's excited. He's scared.
He's overwhelmed.
Rohan…it takes Cali a second to place the name—his brother. Ronan has talked about him time and time again. It was his disappearance that led him to her in the first place.
He's alive?
"He is?" Cali's ask is as shocked as his reveal was.
(But where he is shocked with the truth, she is shocked with the words left unspoken.)
"He…said goodbye to me. I thought he was dead. All this time…" Ronan's words slip away from him and Cali has none to follow up.
Rohan's alive. Cali almost can't believe it either. To find someone you love after they've been gone for so long…no wonder Ronan hasn't been himself since boarding.
He will fight like hell to see him again. Cali knows Ronan better than he knows himself sometimes. This sentiment is one he could never convince her otherwise.
But when push comes to shove, how hard would he fight for her?
Caliadne Karpathos has already lost everything. Does she really want to lose Ronan, too?
Has she already?
Becca Sryker, 14, District 10
I can't fucking believe this.
Becca kicks her feet up on the short table in front of her, leaning back onto the couch. Her district partner sits awkwardly beside her, nervously tapping his leg. They haven't said a single word to each other. Becca is too angry to speak, and the boy seems too nervous.
What would they say to each other? 'Sorry, you're going to die?' Or, 'Congratulations! The whole world gets to know your name! And then you die!'
Becca despises either option. And anything else she can think of isn't any better.
The world continues to take from those with nothing to give. Nothing short of their lives, which, isn't sacred either. No, they're nothing more than cattle. Raised to die with the sole purpose of feeding the Capitol.
Except cows cooperate. Becca has no intention of doing that. When she dies, it'll be on her own terms.
Their mentors walk in. Becca is familiar enough with them. Ellis' entire family was killed by the Capitol and Raven never had a family to begin with. Raised in the orphanage, just like Becca was. She'll probably die alone, just like Becca will.
It shouldn't have been this way. She had a family. Her mothers loved her. And she loved them. And Annis.
Now she'll die, Annis will be alone, and her mothers will be childless again. All for the entertainment of Capitol assholes.
"Hi, Becca. Vetiver. We're sorry this happened. To you both," Ellis speaks softly, carefully. Becca wonders if that's a result of losing everyone you love.
Vetiver awkwardly shifts in his chair as if to thank Ellis. Becca continues to glare.
"I'll be your mentor," Raven says to the girl, sharper than Ellis was. Not that Becca cares. "So why don't we go into the other living space and talk?"
Out of pure principle, Becca doesn't want to follow the woman. But she also didn't want to stay around Ellis, who looks to be on the verge of breaking down, or Vetiver, who smells like a dog. So she reluctantly obliges.
When they get to the new room, Becca collapses on the couch with her feet up. She looks up at the ceiling, watching the train gently rock around her.
"Look, I know this sucks. I was the same way. I couldn't have cared less what my mentor said. But if I didn't, if I didn't get out of that mindset, I wouldn't be here right now," Raven says, kicking Becca's feet over so she can take a seat. Becca groans but sits up.
"You're right," she says, pulling as far into the armrest as she can. "It does suck. And nothing I do will change that."
"If you go in with that attitude, you're absolutely right. You're as good as dead," Raven spits out with a level of contempt Becca didn't realize she had in her.
No wonder they assigned her to me.
"Can I go?" Becca asks.
"Look. While you're here, you can do or not do most things you please. As long as you are alive and well enough to step into the arena, the Capitol couldn't give two shits what you do before then. You're here to put on a show for them. And I've worked with many kids with this same attitude. Ask me how far they make it before they're slaughtered." Becca doesn't ask.
"You don't have to like me. Or Ellis, for that matter. But you seem smart. I would suggest listening to what we have to say. We did win once before, if you forgot," Raven's voice softens as she stands up from the couch. She gives Becca one last chance to say her piece.
But Becca is speechless. Raven shakes her head and mutters something just quiet enough for Becca to not hear it. Then, she disappears back towards the main car. Where Ellis and Vetiver sit.
Vetiver, who is probably having a nice conversation with his mentor. Where despite his shortcomings, already stands a better chance at survival than Becca does.
As much as Becca doesn't want to admit it, she has to. She shouldn't brush Raven off immediately.
Not if she wants to see Senna and Clementine Sryker again.
Aizen Miura, 12, District 12
When Aizen was younger and would cry, his father always did a good job of reassuring him. Iwao told him that it was his body's natural reaction to something scary. That the tears were necessary to regulate his emotions.
He told him the tears weren't permanent. They would pass as his emotions regulated themselves. That's what bodies were built for. For being strong.
Well, his father is dead and gone and Aizen has been crying since he stuttered out the fateful words, "I volunteer". His mentors, Zara Volkan and Grey Thornton, asked him why he did that. They asked the same of Mori, but Mori wasn't the one crying uncontrollably.
No, Aizen was crying because his emotions were all out of whack and no matter how many tears he shed it would never be enough because he volunteered and so did Mori and now they're going to die and he doesn't understand why.
He sits on the couch, his hand gripping his friend's hand. In complete contrast to himself, she's been as strong as a rock. She didn't shed a single tear on stage. She didn't cry when they boarded the train.
Aizen might have imagined it. But for the few moments she was on that stage before he joined her, she looked…free. Aizen has never seen her look like that.
And then he scrambled onto that stage and her demeanor shifted and Aizen couldn't help but think it was his fault.
"Why?" he's asked her over and over again. She hasn't answered. Maybe she can't say in front of their mentors. Or mentor, rather. Zara gave up on the Twelves hours ago. Grey still sits with them, a leather-bound journal resting between his leg and the armrest of the chair. Every now and then, Aizen sees him writing something else down.
But she leaves him without answers, and the tears continue to fall.
Aizen closes his eyes. And for a second, it's not the train he sees. It's the forest behind his house. It's his father. The smile on his face as he shows Aizen around. As he introduces Aizen to the stars.
Aizen wonders if there are stars in the Capitol.
He opens his eyes and Grey is leaning forward in his chair with a slouched posture. He can't manage to make eye contact with either himself or Mori. He's professed how sorry he is that this is happening to them, more than once. Aizen doesn't understand why. He should be angry, at least confused, at his two prospects.
But Grey Thornton doesn't show a hint of disdain. Not like Zara did.
"How…what are we going to do?" Aizen asks both of the people that surround him. Mori, who has been the rock by his side since that day met in the woods. Grey, whom Aizen has known for less than a day, but whose face is familiar and his words are gentle and comforting.
"You're not going to give up," Grey says softly. "I know the…odds don't look good. But I've seen kids your age make it far. They've even won. So…I think together…you two do have a chance."
A chance. Aizen holds his head up, trying to relieve the snot blockage in his nose.
Does he really believe he has a chance? No, going into the arena might be the worst thing that will ever happen to Aizen Miura.
But she does. Aizen looks at Mori. If he could read minds if only for sixty seconds, he would use it right now. How pathetic he must look to her, sobbing and grieving for his future while she's sat there as firm as a rock. She's always been so much stronger than he has.
If anyone's going to win, it's going to be her. Was that her plan all along? To volunteer and win and come back and give herself a better life? To give Aizen a better life?
Did he ruin everything by volunteering too?
Is she mad at him?
If she is…how will he ever make it right?
Astel Norwood, 17, District 7
Astel doesn't get much sleep the first night on the train. She knows she needs to, it's the only way she's going to stand a chance against the well-trained Careers. But just when she starts to drift off, just when she lets go long enough for the darkness to encapsulate her, that's when she jolts awake.
That's when her brain reminds her of how much danger she's in.
She still can't believe this is happening. She was supposed to be safe.
And she has no time to wallow in self-pity. She needs to act. And the first challenge is finding a suitable ally.
She watched the recaps carefully, with her mentors and her district partner. The boy, Owain, is clearly struggling with his own morality. The fact that his life is also dangling on the line between life and death.
Astel almost wrote him off. But she sees a fight instilled within him. One that may prove valuable in the arena.
The sun has yet to make an appearance this morning, but Astel pushes herself out of bed and throws on an oversized sweater from her dresser. It's the most comfortable thing she's ever worn, but it feels so strange on her body.
She's just going to have to get used to it.
She doesn't quite expect anyone else to be in the dining car, but as she enters her eyes fall on her mentor, Darrah Arinori. She holds an empty mug close to her chest, jolting up to look at Astel as the walks in.
She too, must not have expected anyone else this early in the morning.
"Did you sleep?" Darrah asks. Astel shrugs, grabbing a muffin from the endlessly supplied buffet table.
She makes a point not to sit near the mentor. Astel wasn't alive during her Hunger Games, but she's familiar enough with it. Darrah didn't really earn her victory, not really. It was earned for her throughout the chaos of the failed rebellion. So Astel has little desire to receive advice from her.
It wouldn't help me. Astel slowly picks at her muffin, her mind dancing between the various expectations that'll be put on her over the next week. First will be the chariots, where she'll be dressed up in anything from marvelous to forgettable to utterly ridiculous. Then she'll be thrown into training where she'll have to learn how to survive and she'll get to see firsthand what everyone is capable of. But it'll also expose their shortcomings- that's where Astel really needs to pay attention. All while building a narrative of who she is and what her worth is.
Her worth. How will she convince a city of rich idiots that she's the one who should come out of the arena alive?
Not by doing it alone. She hears the sliding door activate and in walks Owain. A curious boy, with maybe more to offer than she initially thought.
He sticks his hands in his sweatpants pockets, clearly unsure of himself.
Astel decides this is her opportunity to determine his worth.
"Hey," she says, gesturing for him to join her at the dining table. He looks at Darrah, but she doesn't provide input. So he takes a seat across from Astel.
"This is all, so…" Owain's eyes wander the car.
Strange? New? Overwhelming? Astel isn't sure where he's taking his small talk. So she cuts to it.
"I wanted to offer an alliance," she says followed by another bite of her muffin. His head snaps back to her with a raised brow.
"What?" he asks. Astel doesn't feel the need to repeat herself.
"We're both clearly stronger than most of the untrained tributes. I think we should stick together. Maybe bring in one more. Maybe…the boy from Eight seemed strong. Or the boy from Ten. I don't care which one. No more than three of us, though. And neither of their District Partners," she says, watching as each word settles with the boy. She can tell he's contemplating the offer. But when she finishes her speech, he doesn't say anything. She finishes eating before he even readjusts himself in his chair.
"I…I don't really know you. I'm sorry," he says softly.
"That's true. But you know everyone else even less." Astel leans back in her chair. "Think about it. I'll be around."
The boy nods. He looks over at Darrah, whether for input or advice, Astel doesn't know. But she doesn't provide either. Her eyes fall inquisitively on Astel.
So the boy gets up and disappears into another train car with Astel's offer still in the air.
And Astel Norwood knows that Owain Fairburn isn't done with her yet.
Chaffinch Canasto, 13, District 11
Chaffinch spent the first evening on the train lost in his own head. He drifted between the past and the present. Between the safety of his home and the claustrophobic room he's been shoved into. Not literally shoved, those around him have seemed to give him enough space.
He didn't know what to do in the room they assigned him. The floor was soft, almost like the hay in the barn, but without the smell. He saw the bed, he even sat on it for a bit. But it was too unnatural. He didn't like it.
In the end, he pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped himself into it, curling up into a Chaffinch-sized ball on the ground. He doesn't think he slept much, the floor moved too much. All of his usual sounds didn't exist in this metal cage.
He can't fly away when he's stuck in this cage. All he can do is watch helplessly as the trees pass beside him.
Now, he finds himself sitting with his district partner, Reagan, in the dining car. She hasn't spoken much, other than to mutter about the reaping being rigged, whatever that means. Their two mentors, Neve and Cielo, have brushed off her concerns, so Chaffinch will as well.
There are enough concerns to keep him preoccupied for a while.
Chaffinch has tried to stay seated. But every few minutes, he hops up and fusses around the room. He's tried many of the snacks that line the buffet, flavors that he's never tasted before. He's had various colored liquids. Some are smooth and remind him of home. Some are disgusting, sharp, and bitter on his tongue. He's had to spit those out. Reagan muttered something about him being "gross" the first time he did it.
It made him sad. She hasn't commented on it a second time.
Why is this happening to him? He still doesn't know if he fully understands the complexities of this event. He knows the train will deliver him and Reagan to the Capitol. He knows he will be competing in a game. A televised game. It happens every year, Reagan told him. Neve and Cielo have won those games. They're going to help him win.
But then they talk about killing other children and Chaffinch gets uncomfortable and he lets his mind wander back to the safety of his gardens and trees. Neve even thought he was deaf. Just for a minute. His reaction to his name being called, or lack of reaction rather. The wide-eyed stares he defaults to when someone speaks.
Little do they know, his mind is in another world.
He doesn't even know if he should trust the adults in the room. Mentors, they call themselves. He can tell by the way they look at him they don't see him for who he really is. How could they possibly help him?
Reagan doesn't seem too enthralled with them either. Ever since they brushed off her concerns.
He does another lap of the room. It's the only way to keep the walls from closing in on him. How is air flowing through the walls? It's certainly not fresh. It's stale. Chaffinch can tell. It's stale, and it's poisoning his lungs.
"Are you okay, kid?" Cielo asks. Chaffinch doesn't realize it's him the man is talking to.
Chaffinch shakes his head, pulling at his shirt collar.
Stuffy. Confused. Strangers. Too many strangers.
"We'll arrive soon. The rooms there are bigger…I promise," Neve tells him.
To the Capitol. That's where Chaffinch is going. It might as well be on another planet.
Even with the promise of a larger space, nothing will ever be as freeing as the forest back in Ten. And Chaffinch would give up everything to see it, just one last time.
Another day, another pregames chapter! And some more insights into the minds of our kiddos. One day they might be happy.
Thank you goldie031 for beta'ing this chapter! Big thank you :heart:
Up next we have the chariots with Dahlia, Owain, Exa, Amatus, Choux, and Mori.
Also - I am looking at rewriting some portions of earlier chapters. I'll let y'all know when I do. Discord will be the first place I announce when I do.
Til next time.
~Moose