"One of the most important things is going to be to make yourselves marketable enough for people to be interested in sponsoring you," Yoshi is saying between bites of food. Atomo, unaccustomed to being in his father's presence during mealtimes despite having been the escort for District Four for over a decade, is watching him shovel food into his mouth with a look of unadulterated disgust. "Whether that means you come across as likable, mysterious, sweet, or something else entirely is up to you. You know better than I would what you are best at! Just be sure that whatever you decide to go with, you stick to! Not even the Capitol likes a flake."
He punctuates his words with a sharp bark of laughter. Donnie rolls his eyes as Atomo flinches back at the sound.
"So your advice is…what? Be myself? Is that really all you've got for me?" Kendra demands, pointing her spoon at him. She's accustomed to the lean times in the Districts, and though Four is a bit better off than some others, Donnie is certain that she's felt the sharp pangs of hunger more than once throughout her life. She doesn't seem at all phased by the way Yoshi is devouring his meal, though she has pulled a few faces when he speaks through a mouthful and ends up spraying half-masticated food everywhere. Whether said faces are due to disgust or just disapproval of wasting said food, though, is yet to be determined.
"Ah, this is exactly what I am talking about," Yoshi sighs, shaking his head with such disappointment that Donnie feels shame trying to make itself a home inside his chest despite the admonishment not even being directed at him. Curse his proclivity towards being a good son! "You are a charismatic young lady, and your feisty attitude may very well earn you some points with viewers. You must be careful to direct it at the correct people, though!"
"What do you mean by correct people?" Donnie asks at the same time that Kendra groans and throws herself back in her seat. If not for the weird shape of the chairs they're settled in, she definitely would have tipped the whole thing over with her dramatics. It's not a very good look. Judging by the small wrinkles that form by Atomo's eyes as she frowns and the worried crease on his dad's brow, they're both thinking the same thing.
"The correct people…." his papa begins, slow and thoughtful, like he hadn't been the one to say it in the first place. "The correct people will be the ones you sense will react well to your attitude. Or to your fellow tributes, though it is up to you to figure out whether they'll take it as a challenge, be intimidated by it, or like it enough to want to form an alliance. I would not suggest directing anything negative at anyone higher up in the pecking order, though. They are the ones who will have a more direct impact on your time in the arena."
"Well, that's just common fucking sense! So basically all that this conversation has revealed is that your advice is useless," Kendra snarls, slamming her spoon to the table and rattling all the dishes. Yoshi lifts his fancy, thin-stemmed goblet up to save it from being knocked over. The dark blue liquid inside doesn't so much as slosh. Atomo shrieks as her own goblet tips, shattering against the floor in an explosion of glass and red wine that Yoshi had forbade Donnie and Kendra from touching. One of the Avoxes sulking in the corners scurries over to clean up the mess before any of them can get up.
Donnie had gotten his own juice in a short, stout little cup, and it is in no danger of tipping over no matter how many tantrums Kendra wants to throw. Still, he frowns down at the rippling liquid and his plate of half eaten food, and he wonders what exactly his fellow tribute's problem is now. Sure, his papa's advice was as vague as it ever is, but he knows Kendra is smart and people-savvy enough to be able to pick out the necessary details and make her own inferences from them. She's been in such a sour mood from the moment they got to the apartment.
The answer should be obvious, of course. It's likely that the reality of their impending deaths is feeling more real to her now, and she's lashing out due to fear. Donnie just can't shake the feeling that there's more to it, though. He clears his throat and turns his attention towards better things, reminding himself firmly not to get sucked into the trap of getting too invested in someone who will be nothing more than a competitor at the end of the week.
"Any advice for me, papa?" he asks, trying and failing not to sound too eager.
Yoshi hums before taking a noisy sip of his mystery drink. Atomo is still lamenting the wasted wine. He smacks his lips loudly, and just when Donnie thinks he may be about to impart some great wisdom, he shrugs and slumps into his seat. He waves a dismissive hand, eyes unfocused.
"We can discuss it later, Donatello. For now, I think I'd prefer to enjoy my meal without all this stressful chitchat."
"Ah, right. Of course," he mumbles, shoulders slumping as he turns his attention back towards picking at his food. The flavors and textures are almost too much as they fill his mouth, and he grits his teeth and makes himself swallow despite the fact that it's making him want to gag.
"Your name is Donatello?" Kendra whispers mockingly, just loud enough for the whole table to hear, giving Donnie one of the most judgemental looks he's ever been privy to. He scowls at her, but finds himself uncertain whether she's just messing with him again or if she seriously didn't know his full name.
"Don't look at me. He's the one who named me."
His father only looks smug, and refuses to answer any more questions over dinner. Or after dinner. As the Avoxes begin clearing away their plates, he urges Donnie to eat more, but when he's met with refusal he just sighs and insists they all need time to decompress. Without another word, he shoos Donnie and Kendra off to their private bedrooms. They shuffle along, casting dirty looks at one another and at Yoshi, but keep their mouths shut. Donnie doesn't want to admit it, but he is tired. The thought of another hot shower and getting to collapse into bed sounds marvelous.
The bedroom he is unceremoniously ushered into is bigger than the first floor of their entire house back in Four. The door does not have a lock on it. Two walls are the expected Capitol white, the third is covered entirely by a massive holoscreen, and the fourth wall is a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city beyond it. Lights twinkle and wink as the Capitol citizens go about their lives outside this deathtrap of an apartment building. He wonders if this whole place sits empty the other 350-odd days of the year. Maybe they give tours or rent it out to the highest bidder.
There are gauzy gold curtains hanging around the window-wall, but much to his displeasure he finds they don't actually slide shut to offer any kind of privacy. Useless, stupid decorations. If he gets out of this alive he's tearing them down and taking them home for Raph and April to make dresses out of.
Donnie spends longer than he cares to admit fiddling with the panel on the wall, turning the lights off and on, changing the temperature of the room, and finding out just how loud the holoscreen's volume can be set to before (finally!) figuring out how to make the window opaque. He breathes a sigh of relief as the view of the Capitol's downtown disappears.
It's short work after that to check the room and the attached bathroom for cameras. There's one tucked into the corner, facing towards the bed. Much less obtrusive than the seventeen scattered around the common areas. As long as he skirts closer to the walls, he should be able to remain in a blind spot. There are none that he can find in the bathroom. Not that he minds, but he is surprised by that barest show of privacy considering the fact they plan to watch every moment their Tributes spend in the arena, which of course will include both urination and defecation on top of dying horribly. Apparently, the Capitol will continue to baffle and confound with their choices.
After another long shower and indulging in every beauty product lining the shelves (Leo would be so jealous), Donnie finds himself left with little else to do but lay in bed and try to sleep. It would be the wise thing to do, considering that tomorrow is the real start to this first and possibly final Capitol visit. They're expected to head to the Remake Center bright and early. Honestly, he's a little offended by the implication that he's not already as close to physical perfection as humanly possible, but there's no point in arguing about that with Atomo Grey or the rest of the Capitol.
As the night before, though, he finds very little success in his beauty sleep endeavors. Despite the exhaustion that has seeped deep into his bones, he cannot seem to settle himself enough to actually drift off. There is an absence of breathing synced to his own, or of the muffled voices from the realm beyond this room. The only sign of life is the almost nonexistent creak of movement from the apartment above him, just barely audible despite the fact that the rhythmic nature of them makes him think someone must be either dancing or jumping.
He doesn't bother counting the hours. Eventually, he just decides he's tried long enough, and he gets up from bed and wanders into the common area for lack of anything better to do. Exploring the space he'll be staying in for the next week is at least marginally more productive than staring at the ceiling and wishing for impossibilities. Maybe he'll get himself a snack. That should make papa happy.
The apartment is eerie and quiet as a grave despite being full of occupants, if you count the Avoxes. There is no sound of the District Five tributes dancing here. Much to his surprise, though, he finds that someone else has already beaten him to the kitchenette.
Kendra sits atop the small island, legs crossed, a plate of needlessly fancy little crackers to her left and a bottle of wine cradled in her lap. She looks up at his arrival and the knife sharp slash of her smile makes him stand a little straighter. Her dark eyes make him feel a little like a bug pinned on a specimen board. He'll never admit it out loud, but it isn't an entirely unpleasant feeling.
"Decided to indulge, I see," she says, chin high, eyes narrowed as he gives her his best judgemental look. Her lips are stained red from the wine.
"Considering what we're about to deal with, I think I deserve it." Her voice is low and rough. She sounds like she's been crying.
"I'll drink to that," he drawls, one hand raising stiffly in a poor pantomime of a toast. He'd meant it as a joke, but apparently his flat tone has been interpreted otherwise. She thrusts the bottle into his chest the moment he wanders close enough, and he only barely manages to grab hold of the neck before it can shatter on the ground. The cork is nowhere to be found, and the acrid sweet scent that wafts out of the mouth of the bottle makes him wrinkle his nose. Still, beneath Kendra's watchful gaze, he lifts it to his mouth and takes a quick swig, shuddering at the taste that tingles across his tongue. His spine prickles.
"That's disgusting."
"Maybe, if it was your first time drinking." She arches an eyebrow at him, like her words are a challenge. She's wrong, but Donnie doesn't care enough to bother trying to correct her assumptions. He takes another drink and almost manages to suppress his reaction this time. Kendra snorts a soft laugh and snatches the bottle back. The liquid inside sloshes. Donnie can still taste it lingering on his tongue and in the back of his throat. His mouth feels dry, but when he licks his lips he can feel the droplets that were clinging there.
"If either of our designated adults find you drinking, they won't be too happy."
"Yeah? Well, they can kiss my ass. If I'm old enough to die to entertain these Capitol fucks, then I'm old enough to drink all I want to."
Donnie snorts. Almost a laugh. He pulls himself up on the counter beside the sink, sitting parallel to her, and tucks his knees up to his chest so he can rest his chin on top of them. Kendra takes another deep pull, then shakes the bottle at him, reaching across the empty space that divides them. It feels like a peace offering, or maybe her attempt at a bonding moment. Solidarity between those about to die. Donnie smiles, but shakes his head.
This moment makes him think of when he and Leo were 15, during another one of their dad's really bad depressive spells. They'd all been tense, but Leo and Donnie had been at one another's throats for days. That was when he had first begun to push them all away, and Leo especially had been struggling with the change in his twin's demeanor. Desperate for something new and unusual that would catch Donnie's attention, Leo'd suggested they break into the liquor cabinet that the Capitol made sure was well stocked in every Victor's house. Just to try it, he'd said. Not that it was locked or anything; dad trusted them all enough, or maybe he just never thought about it enough to worry or care that his children could get into it any time they wanted.
Either way, they'd grabbed two bottles of whatever looked fanciest and a bottle of some wine whose name they couldn't pronounce, and they'd locked themselves away in their bedroom. It had been…nice, in a way. The feeling of conspiring together, the small burst of adrenaline at the thought of being caught, and the giddy excitement and camaraderie at doing something they both knew was wrong. For a night, it felt like they were back to normal.
When morning rolled around, all three bottles were empty. They had been disgusting, but the two of them had been determined to prove to themselves and to each other that they were grown up and strong enough to power through and drink like they'd seen many adults and Victors do. Raph had been furious when he caught them trying to bury the evidence in the trash, ranting and pacing and demanding to know how they could be so stupid while Mikey shadowed him and laughed at them for getting caught. For the first time since Raph had come home broken and Donnie had begun formulating his fallback plan for if one of their names was ever called again, things had actually felt a little bit like they had before the Games again.
He had been so sincere in his lecturing, and Leo had been grinning devilishly, and Mikey had been more playful than he'd seen him in a while. Donnie didn't even have the heart to wave off Raph's concerns or tell him that he was pretty sure the stuff had been watered down. It had taken all three bottles for either of them to feel even the slightest hint of what their father had once described as a "buzz."
It did make him feel slightly better about the frankly worrying amount of alcohol he'd seen some of the Victors — including his father — consume. Still, he'd promised Raph he wouldn't do it again. Even from hundreds of miles away, the thought of his big brother's disappointment and worry is enough to stay his hand.
"More for me," Kendra says with a shrug and another cutting grin, her voice startling Donnie out of his thoughts. His answering smile stays hidden behind his knees.
Silence settles over them like a blanket. For the first time since they stood together on that stage, things begin to feel almost comfortable. It's enough to give him the confidence to try to continue their first actual conversation. Just the two of them. He clears his throat.
"Your mood has improved."
"Guess I just needed a little help forgetting my worries," she snaps back, not meeting his eye as her lip curls into some ghost of a scowl. He cringes and wonders how he'd already managed to mess up the comfortable atmosphere with only four words.
"I just mean that you seemed really angry earlier. Moreso than you'd been before."
She arches a brow and narrows her eyes, looking at him with an expression that makes him feel uncomfortably small. It's not a feeling he's accustomed to.
"Gee, I wonder why," she grumbles. Donnie nods because, yes, that is what he's getting at. A second passes, then two, and he watches her expression morph from disdain to something a little softer. "Wow. You're serious?"
He doesn't know what to say to that, so he keeps his mouth closed. Kendra groans and leans back, propping herself up on her elbows. The wine bottle balances precariously on her knees, and Donnie wonders if he should be prepared to catch it. If he doesn't, will the Avoxes materialize from nowhere to clean up the mess? Are they watching through the cameras now?
He's not sure how that makes him feel. He certainly understands the merit and the appeal of keeping an eye on people — if he had the option, he would absolutely be tracking his family's every move to ensure their safety and his own peace of mind — but it feels so sinister when it's the Capitol doing it. There's no love behind the surveillance.
When Kendra speaks, he can't help but jump a little, startled out of his thoughts yet again. She's too busy staring at the ceiling to notice, thankfully.
"Your dad is our mentor," she says slowly, with the same tone he uses with his brothers when they're not wrapping their tiny little peabrains around something that should be simple to understand. Donnie holds back his urge to snarl at her. He simply nods, chin bumping his knee.
"I noticed."
"That doesn't seem very fair to me. You're his kid, which means I'm going to end up getting no help from him, no sponsors, and none of the perks you'll get as the spawn of the Capitol's darling. I might as well just lay down and wait for the end, because I'm sure as hell gonna be getting no outside help. It's. Not. Fair."
Donnie can't help it; he laughs, soft and choked and bitter. Kendra shoots straight up, and the bottle goes rolling off her lap and onto the countertop with the gentle tinkling of glass against stone. It comes to rest a hairsbreadth from the edge. She opens her mouth, looking like she's planning on yelling at him, but he cuts her off before she can begin.
"It was never going to be fair, Kendra." Her name feels heavy and strange on his tongue as he mocks her choice of words. He tries to remember if he's ever said it out loud before. "Every mentor we could have ended up with has known me since I was barely more than a sentient blob of cells. Any one of them would have been biased in my favor. All things considered, my father being our mentor is probably the best outcome for you."
"Yeah, right," she scoffs, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Her fingertips are digging into her sides, and her expression is stormy.
"It's simply a fact," he says, then sighs dramatically. "My father is a collector of strays. You saw how he was with Cassandra, and I'm sure you already know how much he adores April."
"April and Cassandra aren't your competitors in a death match."
"Eh, that's true, but I can assure you he's simply not the kind of person to sabotage someone just because they're up against one of his sons. He cares about people in a way I've never been able to really understand. I mean, when April first broke into our house—"
"Wait, she did what?" Kendra demands, but Donnie pretends like he didn't hear her.
"—he didn't kick her out or call the Peacekeepers. Even with her waving her knife at him, all he did was make her a meal and sit her down so she could tell him what was troubling her."
It's a funny story, looking back on it now. Hell, it was hilarious even back then. April, seven years old and almost starved after her parents had been out at sea nearly a full month longer than they were supposed to be. The food was gone, what little money they'd left for her had long since run out, and April was desperate and scared and convinced her parents had died at sea. So she'd decided the best thing to do was to grab a filet knife and break into one of the Victors' houses.
The logic behind it was sound enough, considering the Capitol kept the Victors well fed even during the lean times. The fact that she thought she'd be able to threaten grown adults who had killed before with nothing more than a small knife was the hilarious part. The confidence in her poor decision making was so wonderfully April, and he's glad she chose their house to break into that day. He's glad she's never had to go hungry since.
Kendra is watching him. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are a little glassy, but he can tell she's paying attention. It's anyone's guess if she'll remember all the details of this conversation when the morning's hangover comes. If it comes. For all he knows, this is a normal night for her. He heaves another sigh, aiming for something even more dramatic than before to hide the fact that his next words are coming uncomfortably close to baring his soul.
"Besides, you saw how he was acting during dinner. He could barely even look at me. I'm fairly certain that he's going to try so hard not to show any favoritism that it's all going to circle around and I'll be the one to end up getting left out of all the "mentor perks" you're so concerned about."
Either that, or he's just so scared of the thought of Donnie dying that he can't bring himself to acknowledge that he's here in the Capitol, too. Papa's always preferred to pretend like a problem doesn't exist, and unfortunately right now Donnie's whole situation is the problem at hand. He chews his lip, waiting for Kendra to say something, but the silence stretches on and on. She's staring at him, head tilting as she waits for him to continue. So he does.
"With any luck, he'll come around before we end up inside the arena, and I know he doesn't mean anything by it. He's just…stupid. My brothers had to have gotten their idiot gene from somewhere, after all, and he's the only parent I know well enough to point fingers at. But irregardless of that! The point I was trying to make is that I don't believe you have anything to worry about. He's going to treat you fairly, and I will be treated the same as he would any other tribute. All will be equal between us."
The blood is rushing uncomfortably loud in his ears. He swallows a few times, taking deep breaths and trying to calm the heavy beating of his heart. The wine bottle is so close to the edge of the counter. It is wavering as Kendra shifts again, slowly leaning back once more, eyes never straying from Donnie's face. It's uncomfortable. He wishes she would look away.
"Huh," Kendra says after a second of consideration. Then, much to his chagrin, she tips her head back to bark a laugh. Donnie bristles as she drawls to the ceiling, "That might be one of the most pathetic things I've ever heard."
Donnie clasps a hand to his heart, gasping like he's been stabbed. Call it practice. It gets a smile from Kendra, at least.
"I won't sit here and be insulted!"
"No one's stopping you from standing," she taunts, her red stained lips stretched wide. She grabs the bottle before it can fall, holding it with both hands but not taking another sip. Donnie smiles back.
Maybe he'll regret this moment of companionship in the morning, or in the arena. Maybe they both will. For now, though, it's a situation where neither of them are at each other's throats. He can let himself forget about everything else for just a little while longer.
Happy Easter if you celebrate it!
I don't super love this chapter, but that's fine. I hope you like it. Thank you for reading. It means a lot to me!
