Daryl and Andrea sat in silence until the tram began to move. "Are you ready?" Andrea asked, eyeing Daryl, but he was focused on the ring wrapped around his finger twisting it thoughtfully left and right. Left and right. In a repetitive rhythm as his mind wandered to who knows where. .
"I... I have to be." Daryl managed out after a moment. "Are you?"
Andrea thought hard. "No." He couldn't help but laugh, hell they both were out of their damn minds. She then noticed the ring on his finger and thought to the reaping. "The ring is new."
"My… My best friend decided he wanted to ask me to marry him." Daryl whispered. "Right before we had to leave for the capital."
Andreas' eyes got wide. "He what?"
"I didn't even know he liked me like that.."
"You mean you found out he loved you and he asked you to marry him? In the same day? And you said yes!"
"I did… cause he needs something to keep his mind busy while I'm fighting for my life."
"You think you'll win?" Andrea mused.
"I told him I would."
"But do you think you will?" She asked again.
"I hope so, but it's not a guarantee… At least.. At least he will have something to look forward to."
"Do you not want to marry him?"
"I do… But I... I don't know if I'll make it through the games. I don't want to get my hopes up for nothing." Daryl managed out.
"You have a nice story for the capital. They're gonna eat that up."
Daryl's eyes got wide. "I hadn't planned on telling them."
"Then you're stupid." Andrea remarked. "You need sponsorship. That'll be a love story for them to focus on for the ages."
Daryl frowned, but then thought about it. He could talk about them, but he didn't want to exploit what they had. "Maybe I'll talk about it."
"Would be cute." Andrea smirked. "He loves you, that means something."
Daryl nodded. Before they could get any further in the conversation, the door slid open and Deanna appeared. "Come eat and we can talk strategy for the capital. Sadly, your district has never had a victor so I'm not much help there but come ."
They got up quickly at the prospect of food. While Andrea was well fed Daryl was not. He had to kill his own meals which did give him a slight advantage over the other tributes, he could actually hunt.
Daryl looked over the food, and his belly rumbled. There were sandwiches, fruits, vegetables and a myriad of drinks. Daryl piled his plate full while Andrea only took a small amount.
Daryl would not pass up a good meal his time in district 10 had taught him that.
"So tell me about yourselves. Your family life. Your love life, things you do on your free time so we can come up with things to talk about at the talk show."
Daryl rolled his eyes. "Why does that matter?"
"Sponsors."
Daryl bit his lip. "My life is tragic."
"That will get you votes." Deanna remarked. "So spill it."
"No." Daryl snapped. "My life doesn't need to be on display for them. They already are watching me fight for it."
"He has a fiancé." Andrea said, seeing the look of frustration in her eyes. Daryl gave her a dirty look.
"Oh, that's something. You can talk about her-"
"Him," Daryl corrected. "I don't need to exploit us."
"I would if I were you." Deanna suggested as Daryl ate another sandwich. He ignored them now watching out the window. This was crazy.
Andrea talked about her younger sister working with pigs and chickens. Talked about her happy childhood and the only fear being the hunger games.
Daryl was sick; he was only going from one hell to another. Now he was leaving behind his only friend and fiancé.
That was a big jump, they were only best friends hours ago and now they skipped everything to go right to fiancés.
He was to marry him when he returned, if he ever returned.
Andrea watched Daryl as he ignored them, she knew it was hard for him. She was struggling too, but she had never seen him before and knew nothing about him.
"Two more districts are getting their tributes, then the opening ceremony will commence." Deanna smiled. "The training will go on for a week and half, then you will have the night of flak show then the games."
Daryl nodded. More time away from Paul, more time to figure out if he has what it takes to survive or not.
More time for the capital to gawk at him.
They arrived at the tribute center and were whisked off to be cleaned and shaved. Daryl fought and argued with the workers as they ordered his shirt off.
"No, not in front of all of you."
Daryl knew his scars freaked people out, he had grown used to them and when he got new ones he added it to a long list of wounds. Paul always made sure he was proud of his wounds, because they meant he survived something.
Survived something no one else they knew had.
"You need to." A woman said as the guards lifted their guns. Daryl bit his lip and removed the top. The workers looked over his back as he dropped the fabric to the floor, his hands shaking at his sides. They tried not to make any noise to indicate their disgust with his wounds. One of them snapped photos for his file while the other ordered him to turn so they could clean his front. He grunted at their scrubbing, he didn't know if he had ever been this clean in his entire life.
They undid his braid and cleaned his hair and brushed it out. The soft twists of his dark chocolate strands fluffed around his face.
Daryl smelt of vanilla now, which he didn't mind. He didn't know how he felt about being pampered like this.
He was shaved, which was weird to him. Most men had hair but they seemed to think he needed to be clean cut. His slight stubble was left alone, but that was it.
The ribbon and turkey feathers were not discarded but kept for use for later. He was just thankful his ring was not taken from him, he was thankful they implemented tokens in the fortieth hunger games. Each tribute was allowed one personal item into the games as long as it wasn't specifically a weapon.
His ring was his token now.
Daryl didn't know he had a new admirer who was already sneaking pictures of him from his digital file and he was already enraged by the whip scars on his back.
He also seemed to have a brand mark that they use on cattle just above the small of his back.
The young man who was falling in love with Daryl was none other than the son of the capital's leader. The young Negan Smith was already coming up with ways to help Daryl through sponsorships and even just mentioning the crush he had.
Daryl was finally released and given a new pair of clothes. A simple plaid button up and jeans while Andrea was given a farm dress.
They were then led to their room on the tenth floor. They entered the room and were quickly concerned with the decor.
Cow print was everywhere, there were leather couches and hay bale looking foot rests. There were photos and statues of cows as well.
"Don't they know our district is more than just cows?" Daryl asked as he picked up a small statue of a chicken that, clearly, had been carved by someone who'd never seen a living rooster in their life.
"I don't think they do." Andrea chuckled. "You look cleaned up."
"So do you." He smirked as she ran a hand through her curls. Thecapitall was a weird place.
Andrea was both his district mate and his enemy, and he wasn't sure what to say to her.
He wasn't ready for any of this.
He wasn't ready to fight for his life or to die.
The two of them sat together to think hard about their plans. "So do we stick together in the games?" Andrea asked, eyeing him carefully.
"No... I don't do team work. I'd rather hide and not be around anyone." he paused slightly at the hurt look that flashed on her face. "No offense."
Adrea waved him away with a roll of her eyes. "None taken" she took a bite of her food, chewing thoughtfully before asking seemingly nonchalantly: "What's your strategy?"
"I'm not going to tell you." He remarked as he thought. "Then you'll be able to find me."
She laughed. "Like I could fight you."
"Hope you never have to know Andrea." Daryl whispered as he opened a fridge to find something else to eat.
"You've had so much to eat." She noted.
"We have had very different lives living in the same district. You've been cared for and fed, I've been beaten and starved. We aren't the same. Our district does not make us the same."
Andrea stopped dead in her tracks. "You've been beaten?"
"And starved." Daryl replied curtly unbothered by her shock. He took another bite of the sandwich. Andrea bit her lip and nodded, trying to understand his life, but she didn't know what to say.
They flipped on the screen and watched as district eleven, the agriculture district, tributes were reaped. Daryl watched as a young girl no older than 12 was called.
"I volunteer!" A scream came from the crowd.
A woman, clearly eighteen, and her elder sister screamed as she ran up. Beth, the twelve-year-old, clung to her sister before she was dragged away and her sister walked to the stage. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Maggie Greene."
"Sisters, I see." Their capital host mused. Maggie nodded as Beth cried harder as her elderly father held her tightly rocking her in his hold..
Their hostess smiled at her before she went to call a boy. "Aaron Walker."
A young fourteen-year-old boy staggered to the stage. Daryl looked them both over on the screen. Everyone was an enemy, there had to be strategy.
"She stepped in for her. She knew her sister would die." Andrea said with a soft smile, there were tears in her eyes.
"Now so will she." Daryl grunted, sitting back as he propped his feet on one of the hale bales.
Andrea scowled at him but then nodded, realizing he was right and she made a bad choice. This was her last reaping, but her sister could still be called for six more years.
Daryl watched as the screen flipped to district twelve. "Lori Kirkman!"
A dark-haired seventeen-year-old girl made her way up to the stage. Before anyone could be called for the boys a voice called. "I volunteer."
Lori's eyes grew wide as a dark-haired boy of eighteen ran up to the stage. "Shane Walsh." He said into the microphone.
"Wow, two volunteers. "Daryl said, taking another bite of the sandwich.
"Three actually." Deanna said as she stepped in. "Lumber district has siblings in the games. The girl, fourteen named Sasha, was reaped. Her brother Tyreese volunteered to go with."
"So they both will die?" Daryl scoffed.
"You seem confident." Deanna said with a smile. "You think you'll win?"
"I just know they both won't live." Daryl said with an eye roll.
Deanna chortled and went to talk to Andrea about things to say during the talk show. Daryl wasn't ready for the chariot entrance because he knew he would be dressed up in silly clothes. "Who's the youngest player?" Andrea asked and Daryl looked up.
"Twelve-year-old girl from four."
Daryl sucked in a deep breath. "Anyone else?"
"A thirteen-year-old girl from 9. She shares the same name as your sister, actually Andrea."
Andrea looked up. Her sister was eleven, so she had yet to enter the games. But knowing someone else was going to be in the games that shared her name was sad.
"Then two fourteen-year-olds, the boy from agriculture and the sister from lumber."
Daryl bit his lip. He hated that kids went into this game, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about that.
"It's sad." Daryl said with a frown. "We are just pawns in a game for the capital to play. Children being forced to kill each other for their entertainment." He bit his thumb as he watched the screen with frustration. Images of all the tributes were sliding in one by one, each one looking as scared as the other.
Deanna didn't say a word about it. She didn't want to get into it with him. Daryl realized then she was now in a new outfit, it was a gown made to look like a rainbow, her hair done up in a spiral and a cloud sat in her hair. These capital people amazed him by their shallowness. All they care about is money and fashion and these horrible games made only for their entertainment.
"I'll come see you again tomorrow while we decide on your outfits. Your stylists will be sure to come up with something excellent for your chariot outfits."
"Sure they will." Daryl layer back stretching. He was starting to panic, things were really setting in. He could die, and he would never see Paul again. He tried not to burst into tears. Now wasn't the time for it. He just had to believe in himself and his ability to survive.