TW: Hospitals
Rosehip wasn't sure where she was. She'd woken up in a different room, this one much bigger, and had immediately found herself bombarded by another string of doctors and nurses.
Obviously having been taken somewhere, she had no idea how long she'd been out for, or how far she'd traveled. There were no windows in the room, minus the clouded window in the door that she couldn't see through, and no indicator as to what time of day it was. The fluorescent lights still burned her eyes when she looked directly at them, but there was a small light switch beside her bed that she could dim them with.
The room had a bed in it, attached to the wall and the floor, along with a desk built into the wall. Everything had rounded edges and corners. There was a bathroom attached to the room, no door to block it off, and inside it was an open shower and toilet. A sink was also connected to the wall, and there was a tiny mirror firmly bolted to the wall as well. It was all gray and sad looking, and there were no signs of previous human habitation.
Rosehip was sitting on her bed, low to the ground, a flat pillow behind her. She'd finally gotten a break from the wide array of doctors, but she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself.
Standing up, her shaky legs protested against the movement, and she immediately sat back down. She'd managed to go to the bathroom once already, but she had hated the way there was no door in the bathroom. At least the door to the whole room wasn't in the line of sight of the toilet.
Overall, the whole place made her feel miserable, almost as miserable as the number of needles and tests that she'd been exposed to in the last few hours. Knowing that someone else would probably come in soon, she stared at the wall, trying to sit and remember anything from her past. Nothing came to mind, frustrating her.
The basics were there, but nothing of detail. She knew that she was a woman, and knew that she lived in Panem. Her face looked the same as she remembered it, but she couldn't remember any situations she'd been in previously. Who was she? The doctors had said that there had been some sort of accident. What exactly had happened to her to make her this way? Even with her missing memory, she knew that accidents didn't just cause specific memories to go missing.
The whole thing was suspicious, but not knowing any of the circumstances made her think that the doctors were keeping something from her. If they wouldn't tell her what had happened, there had to be something that they were covering up.
Reaching up, she touched her short hair, the ends of it meeting the bottom of her ears. Something made her think that it had always been this short, and she couldn't imagine herself with longer hair. There was a general feeling that she had about how old she was, probably being in her mid twenties, but even that wasn't a fact in her mind. Rosehip wondered if there was anybody who missed her, or who was conducting this whole operation.
If someone had known her before the accident, surely they were running this whole thing. They wouldn't just leave her to rot, would they?
As she thought about it, the door opened, another pair of doctors coming inside. They carried several notebooks and what seemed to be some pictures of people. Two nurses brought two chairs in with them, and then quickly left.
The doctors sat down, staring at her curiously, and she wiggled around a little bit. She hated all the prying eyes and constant surveillance. Both doctors were completely covered, with masks and glasses on their faces, so she couldn't tell what they looked like. One seemed to be a woman, with more slender hands, while the other was a man. Rosehip tried her best to display a neutral expression on her face.
"Hello, Rosehip. We've got a few questions for you, if that's alright. We want to know how much you remember," said the woman, her voice high-pitched. Her voice had less of an accent than the previous voices, a hint of it still there, but definitely less pronounced than anyone she'd heard previously. Rosehip nodded, hoping that she'd miraculously remember something during this quiz. Maybe being shown faces would help jog her memory.
Pulling out a pen, the man opened up his notebook, reminding her of the first pair of doctors she'd seen when she had woken up. For some reason, they always came in pairs.
"We live in Panem, as I'm sure you can remember. How many districts are in our nation?" asked the female doctor, looking quizzically at her.
Rosehip thought for a second, struggling to pull the memory out of her mind. Twelve districts. There was a capitol, and then twelve districts, all surrounding the capitol and providing it with goods and resources.
Where was she from? She didn't know if she was from the capitol or the districts. That concerned her. Shouldn't she remember where she was from? Why was that memory gone? Thinking about it, she could vaguely remember the industries of each district.
"There are twelve districts," she replied, the other doctor beginning to write something down. She couldn't see the faces of the doctors, but the note-taking made her frown. It was an easy question. There shouldn't have been so many notes taken for such an easy question, she thought. Rosehip was beginning to worry she'd said something wrong.
Finally, the doctor stopped writing, nodding at his colleague, and the female doctor leaned forward, taking out a picture and holding it face down in her lap. Rosehip couldn't see the picture, and the next question surprised her.
"Who is the current President of Panem?" inquired the doctor. This threw Rosehip for a loop. The president. She knew that there was a president, yes, but the name of whoever it was evaded her. She didn't know their gender, or how long they'd been in power. The name of any past president evaded her as well.
Seeing the confusion on her face, the doctor flipped over the picture. It was a stern-looking man with a full beard, with dark hair and calculating eyes. Still, no name came to mind. He looked slightly familiar, but she couldn't pull a name. That was definitely the president, but who was he?
"President Aegis Saturn is the current president of Panem. He succeeded President Io Vici fifteen years ago after the death of the former president," The doctor informed her, tapping a nail on the picture.
"I'm now going to show you a series of pictures, and I want you to tell me if you recognize any of the faces," Pulling out a number of other pictures, she held up four of them, fanning them out so they all could be seen. A young man with dark hair, the ends of it dyed a different color. A slightly older man with green hair and elaborate makeup. A woman with a deep complexion and her hair in many small braids. A child wearing a frilly ruff around their neck.
Squinting, Rosehip looked at each picture. Expecting someone to be familiar, she stared at them for a minute, desperately trying to find some sort of connection in her brain. The child and the man looked slightly similar, but not familiar to her. None of them stood out, none of them eliciting any response.
She didn't know these people. Why were they showing her them? Were they just random pictures that they'd chosen as a decoy? Shaking her head, her frown deepened. Her head was beginning to hurt with all the effort she was putting in to try and recognize the faces.
"Interesting. Rosehip, what year is it?" said the female doctor, her counterpart continuing to write on his notepad. This was a hard question, but thinking about it for a moment yielded an answer. It was 113 A.D. She wasn't sure what the AD stood for, but it had to be important. Another thought sprung into her mind.
The 113th hunger games had happened recently, hadn't they? She knew what the games were, at least. Trying to remember who won, she couldn't find an answer. That also seemed like important information that she was missing. That also made her remember the time of year. It should be the end of summer, right?
"113 AD. The games just happened," she replied. To her confusion, the doctor shook her head. Was it not the year 113? How much time had passed? Not even sure how she remembered the year, or about the games, she sat in silence. The doctor cleared her throat, adjusting her glasses as she did so. A brief flash of brown eyes met Rosehip's own. Well, at least she knew that the doctor was a real person now, though she wasn't sure why she'd think otherwise.
"The year is 114. The month is April, and the games start in two months," responded the doctor, making Rosehip pause.
If it was 114 now, had she missed nine months? How had that happened? She was beginning to grow even more suspicious of the doctors and the facility. What had happened in nine months that left her here? Wanting to ask, she almost spoke, but thought better of it. They weren't going to share any information with her. There was no point in bothering with it. Instead, she waited for the next question, which came shortly after. This time, it came from the male doctor.
"You have many eye tattoos on your left arm. Rosehip, what is the significance of your tattoos?" asked the man, his voice much deeper than the other doctor's. Rosehip looked at him blankly before looking down at her arm and remembering what was there.
Many small eyes, all with a spiral design inside of them and pointy lashes. They were stylized, not looking realistic, and were all pretty much the same. She couldn't count them, as she couldn't see all of them, but this didn't concern her. These tattoos must have meant something to her, but what? There was no clue as to what they symbolized.
"I don't know," she answered honestly, without much of a pause. He took some more notes, and then looked at his colleague.
Wordlessly, he stood up, leaving the room and taking his chair with him. She got a glimpse into the hallway, where a pack of other doctors awaited him. The female doctor stayed, however, and looked at her again with an unknown expression. Then, after a second, she spoke. Her words were quick and almost sounded as if she was trying to get out as fast as she could.
"Thank you for your time, Rosehip," she said, finally getting up and leaving. A nurse came in and took the chair away, leaving Rosehip all alone in the room to ponder what had happened. The tattoos must have been important.
Slouching over, Rosehip flopped down on her bed, the thin sheets rubbing against the blank uniform she wore instead of the hospital gown she'd worn when she'd first woke up. Was she ever going to learn what had happened to her? She examined the tattoos on her forearm. They were all the same, with no variation between them. Poking one, she only found skin against her finger.
For all she knew, she'd spend the rest of her life in this little room. At least she had a bathroom now. The door to the room was soundproof, so she couldn't hear anything outside of it. There were definitely cameras watching her inside the room, keeping track of her every move, and making sure that she wasn't going to do anything stupid.
More acclimated to the space, she turned over on her side, closing her eyes. She'd better try to get some sleep before the doctors came in again. Drifting off, the eyes of her tattoo swirled in her mind. They were always watching. Always.
Vale was working overtime. Again. For the past week, he'd been putting together outfits for the victors of district seven, all leading up for the Victors' Dinner that was now only a week away.
He was stressed out, and ready for a break. He wouldn't get that much needed break anytime soon, though, as after the Victor's Dinner there were several other events that he was styling people for. Then, after that, the Games would start. Only two months away, they were rapidly approaching. His workload was slightly lessened for the games this year, seeing that District Seven would only have one tribute, which was probably a good thing.
His work had been in high demand after Ezekiel Branch had won the games. It was merely a byproduct of his victory, nothing more, but he had taken it in stride and was trying to keep himself positioned with some form of popularity still intact.
The other stylist for district seven had been called away to work on another project, as having only one tribute for the next games meant that they only needed one stylist for the district at the present. She'd be back for the next games after these, however.
Right now, he was trying to put the finishing touches on the outfits for the victors, finally at a point where they were satisfied with what he'd picked out. It had taken much too long for them to agree on something, and with communication that wasn't exactly speedy by way of telephone, this probably wouldn't be the last time he had to change something.
Three male victors and one female. Ezekiel was the most recent, the first in twelve years, which honestly wasn't that long for a district to go without getting a victor. District Seven wasn't a career district, but it was the wealthiest outlier, and even their meager four tributes was more than any of the other non-careers. Of course, they were dwarfed in comparison by districts one and two, but that was only natural.
Vale didn't think about most of the other districts outside of the one he was styling for. He'd styled for district 11, back when he'd first started, but that had been quite a while ago.
Jakob, Foliage, and Quercus were the other victors for District 7. Jakob and Foliage had won back to back games, with Jakob winning the quarter quell during the 100th games and Foliage winning the 101st. Quercus was far older, winning the 85th games almost thirty years ago. Vale himself had been a child then, and didn't remember the games that year very well.
Jakob and Foliage were before his time styling, but he'd met with them enough times now to know them pretty well. The two back to back winners were only a few years older than he was, and were very different in terms of personality.
Turning his attention to the mannequin before him, Vale examined the chic brown dress and coat, making sure that there wasn't a wrinkle in sight. The dress itself was quite stiff, so it didn't wrinkle easily, but the coat was a more silky material. He had to be careful touching the coat, as he didn't want to mess it up.
Even his gentle stylist's touch and knowledge of where to hold a garment wouldn't prevent the coat from having to be steamed again. This dress was for Foliage, as the men he was styling seemed reluctant to wear a dress. He didn't blame them, though Capitol fashion could be quite androgynous.
The next mannequin held a silver suit with a pattern reminiscent of birch bark on it. The silvery fabric caught the light in a pleasant way, making the stylist smile.
He'd never get tired of the beautiful fabrics he got to work with for this job. Patterned and extravagant suits were one of his specialties when it came to designs, and this was one of his own. He didn't design every piece he put into an outfit, but he did dream up a fair few of them. Ezekiel had requested a turtleneck underneath his blazer instead of the usual dress shirt, which Vale was more than happy to include.
Looking around his workroom, Vale caught sight of the original design sketch he'd made for the suit. The sharp angles drawn by hand were all perfectly crisp, a representation of how well they'd be incorporated into the suit itself.
Walking over to it, he unpinned it from the wall, taking it in his hand and putting it inside one of his sketchbooks. He kept a sketchbook full of his favorite designs, as the corkboard eventually got too crowded to hold every single one of them, making him need somewhere else to put them when he had to move on to more updated styles. Tempted to take a look through the sketchbook, he stopped himself, too busy for distraction.
Spinning around, he returned to the mannequins, taking a look at the next two suits. One was a deep mossy green, while the other was a toasty brown shade. These were for Jakob and Quercus, respectively. He'd included a pocket square on the green suit to match the brown of Foliage's dress, as the two back to back Victors were rarely seen without the other.
He'd always seen them as a pair, even though Jakob's quarter quell win had been a far more entertaining game than Foliage's. Recently, he'd gone back and watched the footage of those games again, as he had wanted to remember more clearly what had occurred.
The Victor's dinner was the one place a year where the majority of the living Victors got together under one roof. Most of them came to the Capitol for the games, but rarely were all in the same place. The dinner was less of a sit-down dinner and more of a party with a buffet table and a televised red carpet event. That was why it was so important that his victors were dressed well, as they would be broadcasted across the capitol for the entirety of the event.
According to his friends in the media industry, the districts got a little bit of the footage, but not to the same degree that he could enjoy in the Capitol.
Vale never really thought about his position of privilege.
The Capitol was all he'd ever known, so it wasn't like he was going to suddenly understand the situation of the districts. He pitied them, sure, but other than thinking about his victors and tributes, the districts were out of sight, out of mind. All he needed was right where he was.
Glancing around, he noticed a family photo on the wall, depicting himself and the rest of his immediate family. His brother was there, along with his mother, and another face was scribbled over. It had been taken the day of his fathers funeral, so several years ago, but he looked almost identical.
Looking at the photo made him sad. It had been so long since they'd been a full family. He spent time with his brother a fair amount, and with his mother, but he dearly missed his father.
He paid no attention to the scribbled out face. Best to forget, to not think about it. It hurt, bringing bad back memories, and he had to hastily try and repress his emotions as he turned back to his work.
Taking out a measuring tape, he began checking the measurements of the suits again, even though he'd already done so several times. It couldn't be bad to make sure that everything was completely perfect. Everything needed to be correct, per usual.
Up until the last Games, his life hadn't been going exactly to plan.
First his father died, and then the whole incident happened, followed by his girlfriend breaking up with him. He hadn't seen Imelda in a few months, and it always made him feel bad about himself when he did happen to see her. The Games had been a turning point in his career, heralding his obsession that he poured into his work, making him spend more time in the workroom than he did at home. He knew that it wasn't healthy, but he couldn't stop himself. Vale had to be putting all his effort into one thing, it was just how his brain worked.
Realizing that he'd been in the workroom for three hours without a break, he stepped away from the desk, looking around for where he'd put his bag. It was probably best for him to end work for the day, and go get something to eat, most likely stopping at a place on the way back home. Locating his bag under a spare pile of fabric, he swung it over his shoulder, checking to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.
Eyes stopping on the family photo, he sighed. He really did wish things could go back to the way they'd once been. He hadn't seen her in over a year, possibly longer, and wasn't particularly interested in knowing where she was.
Flicking the light off, he left the room, stepping out into the main area of his work so that he could get back to the elevator. Vale was more than ready to get home, have a tasty warm meal, and lounge on the couch for several hours until it was time to go to sleep.
He wasn't lonely, or at least that's what he told himself.
Other people just weren't necessary to his comfort. Tomorrow he'd be back for more of the same, but for tonight, he could let himself relax.
Chapter 5 Part 2
Apsis Tenebrae knew that when he entered a room, all eyes would be on him.
It was a perk of being what was basically a celebrity in the Capitol and an escort to the districts, not to mention his carefully curated appearance drawing constant attention.
The doors in front of him swung open, allowing him to step through, the familiar sight of the district 1 victors meeting him. The room was a regular conference room, with a whiteboard on one wall and a long table in the middle, one that was quite boring by his standards. Six of the chairs were occupied, with the head of the table still empty.
Striding into the room, the tall man nodded at the victors, who all gave some sort of greeting back. His heels clacked on the tile floor as he made his way to the head of the table, pulling out the chair with a swift motion and sitting down in it. This was where he always sat during these meetings, especially for his pre-reaping trip to the districts.
The games were about a month and a half away, but he had other business to attend to in District 1. His posture was practically regal, his presence towering over the others that were seated at the table. Steepling his hands, he leaned back, surveying the victors.
They were missing someone, but that wasn't surprising. Luminary always had a habit of being late. He heard the door close, not bothering to look, and the room became quiet. Taking his time, Apsis made eye contact with the two mentors of District 1.
Tannin and Mascara had been doing this for years, and were quite accustomed to these meetings. Both appeared to be fairly at ease, unlike some of the other occupants of the room.
His eyes flickered over to a man that looked like he was about to fall asleep, head drooping and eyes almost closed. Someone hadn't gotten much sleep last night, apparently.
The seven victors of District One were some of the most ruthless killers in the nation, but this didn't bother Apsis. His own reputation preceded him, and he wouldn't be the one that was uncomfortable. The youngest victor was already looking rather nervous, though she was doing a good job of hiding it. With a slight smile, he clapped his hands together once, those that were seated at the table instantly tracking his every move.
There was no need to wait for the missing victor, as he'd turn up at some point and be chastised by the others for being late. In full control of the room, Apsis cleared in his throat.
"Another year, another need for volunteers. I presume that the selection process is going well?" he stated, his accent giving a slight edge to his words. This was the reason that he was here, to check on the selected volunteers for the District.
Every year, the potential volunteers of the career districts underwent a series of tests by the Institute, those that succeeded being the running for the volunteer position that year. At the present, there would still be a pool of volunteers that had cleared the tests, and it would slowly be narrowed down to the final two over the next month and a half.
A blonde woman with dark eyes and sharp cheekbones nodded, a packet of paper in front of her that she began to flip through. Mascara Sheen was one of the younger victors for the district, but had recently taken on the female mentor position. Apsis knew her well, as her games eleven years ago had been the first that he'd escorted for district 1.
An assistant scurried over to him, presenting the same packet of paper to him and setting it on the table. He didn't bother to open it, as he could look at it later. Any information he needed at the present would be told to him by the mentors.
"Yes. We've narrowed down the process to six candidates," replied Mascara, glancing down at the papers in front of her. Apsis could see the names of the volunteer candidates on the papers before him, giving them a cursory look but not lingering on them long enough to truly read the names. Six candidates was about the normal amount of potential volunteers for this point in the process.
He gave an approving nod, hands folded together. Three men and three women. Whether they would be new candidates or ones that had gone through the tests last year was unknown to him at the moment.
"The tests went well, I presume?" inquired Apsis, tilting his head. Some years, the tests were more challenging than others, and accidents occurred on occasion. He supposed that the accidents weren't always accidents, but he did not care to investigate further into the group of volunteer candidates when it did happen. Given that Tannin had been running the tests this year, they would likely be more difficult than when the other victors ran them.
That wasn't a critique of Tannin, in fact, Apsis approved of making the challenges more difficult. Harder challenges produced better volunteers with a higher chance of winning.
"We had some slight… difficulties with some of the tests, but everything worked out smoothly in the end," began Tannin, the middle aged man sitting up in his chair. Apsis raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.
"Has anyone seen Luminary?" he continued, looking around the room at his fellow victors. They all shook their heads, some of them pausing for a second as if trying to remember when they'd last seen him. Ermine, the youngest, looked for a moment as if she was about to speak, but closed her mouth when she saw Apsis looking at her. This wasn't uncommon, but he'd hoped that she would have a little more courage given her usual personality.
"Very well. You'll have to fill me in more on the train ride. Luminary will show soon, I'm sure," Apsis replied.
In just a short time, they would all embark on the journey to the Capitol for the Victors' dinner. He typically chose to visit the district at this time to check the volunteer progress, but also visited to bring the district one victors to the Capitol. They'd have to ensure that Luminary was found before the train ride, but Apsis was certain that he'd turn up in time. He wasn't the type to miss something important like that, and would most likely be punished if he delayed the entire train. While Apsis would certainly enjoy that, it would be rather annoying.
"Do we have any word on whether or not the gamemakers will be attending the Victors' Dinner?" asked another one of the victors, a short haired woman with dramatically long eyelashes and talon-like nails.
On occasion, the gamemakers would make appearances at the dinner, mainly to interact with the victors. This usually only occurred when there was a particularly unruly victor, so Apsis doubted that they would show up. Plus, they were most likely busy with the fallout from Lullaby's death. He knew that the districts had gotten the broadcast about her death as well, so he would have thought they'd figure out themselves that they wouldn't attend.
"From what I've heard, they will not be attending, no. They may send a representative, but I doubt that any of them will be there in person," said Apsis, shaking his head slightly. He heard someone in the room breathe a sigh of relief, but he didn't quite catch who it was. He heard footsteps from outside the door of the conference room, and a short man came barreling in, his spikes of blonde hair barely moving as he ran into the room.
That would be Luminary. The man took a deep breath, pausing for a moment, and then meandered over to his seat, not noticing the eyes that followed him.
Luminary was quite a character. He had never gotten along well with Apsis, but the older man typically ignored his remarks. Best not to get involved in something that would end badly for the victor. Already, the blond was eyeing him suspiciously, still trying to catch his breath.
He was a bit of an outlier in the district, as far as the victors go, letting himself get caught up in being spoiled instead of keeping the vicious edge that most victors had. Luminary was mean enough, but just didn't seem to want to put in the effort and work to help the youth of his district. There wasn't much indication that any of that had changed in the past year.
"Sorry, I got a little caught up in something," the blond man smiled, shaking his head and holding up his palms. Apsis was tempted to roll his eyes, but managed to stay civil, his expression neutral. The short-haired woman, Palais, shot Luminary a glare at which he curled back from. Tapping a finger on the table, Apsis waited for the short man to settle down, then put his hands together again.
Checking the clock, he realized that it was later than he had previously thought. It was almost time for them to get their things in order for the train ride. They'd take a loop around the training facilities first, but they did need to conclude their meeting.
"Thank you for finding the time to join us, Luminary. We can continue this conversation on the train. I do believe that a quick tour of the training grounds should occur now?" he questioned, giving Luminary a tight-lipped smile that didn't meet his eyes. Angrily, the blond crossed his arms, waiting to see what everyone else would do.
Apsis didn't have the time to quarrel with him, nor did he care to get involved in his silly little rants. Mascara stood up, prompting everyone else to do so as well. The tattooed escort gracefully got out of his chair, pushing it in behind him and following the others out of the room.
The walk down to the training grounds was a short one, as the conference room had been strategically located in a manner to allow the trainers to have meetings while still being in close proximity to their students. The stone architecture of district one mimicked some of the buildings in the capitol, but on a less grand scale by far.
Several students walking the hallways scrambled to get out of the way for the procession of victors, eyes wary as they noticed Apsis amongst their ranks. Many shrank away from him, watching him pass and halting in their tracks until he was gone.
Once they made it to the training grounds, their walk being mostly silent, they stood on a ledge with a bannister above the main room, staring down at the remaining students working on honing their skills.
One student in particular caught Apsis' eye. A young man with dark hair, sparring with another student, noticed him looking and glanced up at him before setting his sword down on a rack. He was recognizable, probably being one of the volunteer candidates. The other victors began moving around the upstairs area that looked down on the training grounds, circling around as Apsis took in the condition of the gymlike facility.
Everything appeared to be in order. He was aware of a few dents in the training equipment, probably from improper use, but nothing concerned him enough to stand out. Nodding at Mascara and Tannin, the group began filing down a hallway. It was quite the odd parade, the seven victors and Apsis being followed by a number of other trainers that watched their every move.
They all started heading in the direction of where the cars that would take them to the train station were, as it was only a short drive away to get to the trains. All of the victors' personal items would already have been taken to the station earlier.
Outside, a few black vehicles awaited them, a driver standing out in the front of each. He'd have to share a vehicle with one or two of the victors, but that would probably bother them more than it would bother him. Ushered into a car, he watched as Mascara and Tannin joined him in the back seat, the seats situated facing each other not unlike the way they would be in a fancier car. The two mentors sat across from him, and he sat by himself, crossing one leg over the other.
Apsis peered out the window, watching the others shuffle into the other cars. It was only a short time before they were off to the train station.
Apsis chose to stay silent, Mascara and Tannin following his lead as the car went down the road and past the outdoor training facilities. The students of the Institute were all peeking out the windows, watching them go.
Unsurprising, given the fact that this was a once-a-year event. Reaping day was different, as all the students had to attend, while they were able to spend time without the presence of their trainers for the period that the victors were in the Capitol. After a car ride that seemed to go by in the blink of an eye, they pulled out in front of the station, the car parking and the driver coming around the side to open the door for them.
"After you," said Apsis, allowing Mascara and Tannin to go in front of him.
He brought up the rear of the group, almost herding them into a pack as they descended upon the station. It was fairly empty, as it was only ever busy on reaping day, and the workers that were there obviously had some nerves about the quantity of important people that were in their vicinity. Luminary gave him a glare as he stepped onto the train, which Apsis promptly ignored. He had no time for petty squabbles. Finding a seat that was slightly distanced from where all the victors were sitting, but close enough to converse with them, Apsis sat down and glanced around.
It would take some time before the train began to move, so he sat in silence, taking out his phone and checking for a signal. The signal wasn't great, given that they were in the districts, but it was there. He opened his messages, shielding his phone with a hand so that no one could see them, but found that there was nothing important that he'd need to worry about the others seeing.
Instead, he patted his pocket, ensuring that his cards were still there. He'd done readings for the victors before, so there was no need to do them again unless something major came up. Always on alert, but appearing relaxed, he looked back over at the victors.
"You seriously need to stop it, Luminary. You can't say stuff like that about him!" whispered Ermine, furtively glancing his way. She was speaking to Luminary, also seated with Palais, the other four victors sitting a few feet away from them. Not looking up, Apsis could hear the conversation, already knowing what was going on. Luminary must have been complaining about him during the car ride, per usual.
Putting his phone back in his pocket, he felt the cold edge of something strapped into his pocket against it. He wouldn't need it, but it was good to have.
"Well, it's not like he's going to do anything about it! Hell, we're victors! He's just an escort," started Luminary, standing up and waving his arms about. He walked over to stand in front of Apsis, who casually looked up, hand still in his pocket.
A smile twinged on his lips, but he held it back, his face blank. Oh, this was interesting. He was very curious to see how this would turn out. Knowing that he most definitely had the upper hand, Apsis wasn't concerned in the slightest, but enjoyed watching Luminary as the man angrily put his hands on his hips directly in front of the escort.
"You're expendable. I don't see how anyone puts up with your bullshit, man! I wish they'd just give us another escort, someone that isn't such a monster like you are," spat Luminary, his eyes full of irritation. Apsis allowed himself to smile, delicately standing up. Luminary shrank back, but stood his ground, watching as Apsis rose to his full height.
The other victors had all turned around now to watch it all go down, Ermine covering her face with a hand as Mascara gave a concerned sigh. Apsis took a few steps forward, hand still by his pocket as he towered over the other man.
"Oh, Luminary. That's what you don't understand," said Apsis smoothly, taking one of his knives out of his pocket. He twirled it in his fingers as the blond took several quick steps back, almost hitting the wall of the train compartment as he did so.
The fear was visible on his face, and Apsis relished it. Tannin began to stand up, but Mascara pulled him back down, gesturing for him to stay out of it. It had only been minutes since they'd gotten on the train, and yet they were already quarreling. How unfortunate. Better to end this quickly, rather than let it drag on. Eyes narrowed, he walked towards Luminary, causing him to step back again.
"If I wanted to, I could put this knife right between your eyes. You wouldn't be able to do anything to stop me," Apsis's voice went lower, holding the knife up in his fingers. He was extremely tempted to let the knife fly, to give Luminary a scare, but he knew that keeping himself in check was the right option at the moment.
Something deep inside of him wanted blood, however. He wanted to feel the thrill of power, the tangible fear that came from hurting someone else. No. This wasn't the time, nor the place, to do something like that. He'd need to find a better reason and a better time to hurt the pathetic excuse of a man.
"A victor is only a victor in the arena. After the games, you're just like everyone else. No one would care in the long run if you perished. I, on the other hand, have a purpose. I could take out any of you before you even moved a muscle," whispered Apsis, still loud enough for all the other victors to hear.
He wasn't simply bragging. His years of experience had given him the ability to confidently make threats, knowing that he'd be able to carry them out easily.
He wasn't an ordinary Capitol citizen, after all. No, Apsis Tenebrae was far more than that. He smiled, acutely aware of the eyes of the other victors.
Luminary, on the other hand, looked like he was about to curl up into a ball and cry. They'd all heard the rumors. This only confirmed them, letting them know exactly who they were dealing with.
Apsis stood over him, knife still primed and ready, giving it another second before he spun on his heel and returned to his seat.
The victor cowered, scurrying back to the others. This man was a victor? He was nothing more than a coward. Victors were supposed to have some backbone. Even if all seven victors tried to work together, they'd have a hard time dealing with Apsis. The number of peacekeepers in the adjacent compartment also helped.
He could hear the other victors muttering amongst themselves, but it didn't bother him.
News of this would swiftly reach the Capitol, but it wouldn't show up in any gossip tabloids. His contacts would keep everything under wraps, and it would be a warning to the other victors that they weren't completely free of danger after the games. Taking his phone out of his pocket after putting the knife back into it, he opened his screen to type a message.
After it was sent, he swiftly stood up, causing the district 1 victors to go silent. Walking, he strode past them, heading into the other train carriage for some privacy.
Sitting down, he took his knife out of his pocket again, examining it to make sure it hadn't gotten too dirty. He hated having to take his knives out, but luckily this one was still shiny and clean.
Apsis smiled to himself. It had been much too long since he'd gotten to do something like this. It was a shame that Lullaby's death hadn't been caused by him, though he would have done it much more elegantly than the actual culprit did. The sound of concerned voices in the next carriage was all but forgotten by Apsis as he scrolled through his phone, the slow signal annoying him.
They would be back in the Capitol soon, and the Victor's dinner would occur in a few nights. Apsis already had plans for the dinner, as all the escorts and most of the stylists attended it alongside the victors. After that, there would only be six or so weeks until the games. Time was flying by. Whether or not the games would live up to his expectations remained to be seen.
The next chapter will be the Victors' Dinner! After chapter 6 and 7, we'll finally get into intros. We've still got a lot of spots open, but I'll start writing intros for the tributes that we already have. I've moved some plot things around to advance the plot slightly sooner than I wanted to originally. Apologies for not getting a chapter out last week, I had other things to do and still needed to go back and look through this chapter. I still don't have a set deadline for submissions, but I'm hoping to get them all in by the end of March. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions!