Apple Blossom
Preference
Domitian March, District Two Male, Eighteen
The morning has come again, sounds of cars and business people blare through his room as the Capitol wakes. The busy noises were all that he could hear as he lay awake on his bed. If he was counting, then maybe he could count one or two hours in which he got some sleep before the morning sun flares its rays through his window.
Tired is not the word he would use at this moment in time, perhaps he could not remember or think of an actual word for what he is feeling, but all he knows is that today is the start of training. In the following three days the tributes would practice or learn new skills; make potential allies in the Games, and possibly plan on when you will betray them in the arena.
Domitian sits up from his bed with a sigh, hair a mess from tossing and turning the night before. He tries his best to block out the noise of the Capitol; the Tribute Parade celebration had continued through the night naming for a restless night. The cheers and excitement kept him awake and never seemingly changing as the working Capitol replaced the jubilation.
He scrunched his face at the lack of tiredness but eventually succumbed to the fact that he was up now so he might as well get ready. He would have liked to sleep a little longer but back home in Two he would wake up around this time anyway so there was no point in breaking his usual routine that he had hopelessly developed over the year.
Today is important not only for himself but for his district partner as well. Ancartha Redlock, a girl he had heard very little about which somewhat puts his thoughts into disarray in regards to planning. Ancartha volunteering for the Hunger Games had been a surprise for him. She is a year younger and what would be classed by the Gladius trainers as 'not yet ready'. However, the victors seem to hold her in high regard being the best of her year group and rivals those of his year group.
This made her an intriguing person to him, and potentially dangerous. He stumbled out of bed, and toward the wardrobe on the other side of his room, the lavish walls and ceilings are not lost on him. Opening the white wooden doors, he found the training outfit his stylist had given him after last night's chariot ride.
He put the outfit on with relative ease; the fabric felt soft and comforting against his skin. He heads towards the bathroom now, he washed his face, the cool water splashing against his skin to wake him up fully. He tries his best to fix the messiness of his hair, spotting the streaks of grey from his parade outfit. He tries to make himself look presentable somewhat before exiting his room.
The lounge is brightly lit, and the curtains are fully open letting every ray of the morning light in. The cosy interior of the Two apartment is welcoming; a light grey ensemble that oddly reminds him of his home, not that it was a good thing in hindsight.
Brasidas and Adrestia were already in the kitchen talking amicably with each other, setting up plates and preparing breakfast for the five temporary tenants in this apartment. He walks over to them sitting at the table. Brasidas gives him a warm smile nodding a greeting before setting down a bowl of chopped fruit.
"Jean is still sleeping," he says as he takes his seat at the table, "he hates being disrupted."
He didn't notice that Ancartha had entered the room, sneaking beside him on the table and taking her seat. She exchanges a small smile with him as she starts to take some of the fruit from the bowl. Adrestia soon takes her seat beside Brasidas as she takes some of the prepared breakfast onto her plate.
"There are cereals and porridge if you guys prefer?" Brasidas offers as he stands back up taking the cutlery he had left on the counter, he turns around to see if anyone would like what he had said but Domitian just shakes his head.
He turns to Ancartha currently stuffing her face with some juicy fruit. His thoughts run away from him as he thinks about her more deeply. He has had his suspicions of her since the train rides over, and even more so during the parade, but he just can't quite place it. He looks away from her before she has a chance to look back, focusing on his plate. He fixes the mat so it's not crooked, placing the empty bowl in the middle as he takes some fruit with his fork.
He knows that he can't keep questioning her in his head. He worries about the potential implications of this. Would she betray him faster if he keeps going or would she keep it a secret? Too many variables and each thought spawns more questions, it feels suffocating.
He closes his eyes momentarily holding a breath in for a few seconds longer and breathing it out. Domitian tries his best to calm his racing mind, something he finds harder the more he is away from his friends. Adrestia interrupts his thinking by trying to set up some form of strategy for the coming days.
"Train, make alliances and stay out of trouble." She says looking at Ancartha, who just scoffs at the last words, before eating an apple slice. "I suggest you start with the One tributes and then go from there."
Domitian could not let that scoff go unnoticed as they continued to eat in silence after Adrestia's advice. This sends him back into the spiral of his mind wondering what their mentor meant by 'staying out of trouble'. He wants to find out more about her but he's split between that and leaving her alone, at least for now.
"The Ones seemed friendly enough," Ancartha says as she wipes her mouth with a napkin looking at the clock in the kitchen, "Shall we go, Domitian?"
He follows her gaze to the clock and he finishes off the last of his fruit, tidying up the cutlery and placing it neatly inside the bowl before standing up with his district partner. He follows her out of the door, and down the plain hallway to their shared elevators.
The doors slide open and the duo from Five are already there. Ancartha enters first and he follows her. The girl seems to avoid eye contact completely whilst the boy does the complete opposite, looking them both up and down as the elevators continue their descent down to the lower ground floor.
"Is something wrong?" Ancartha says noticing the boy smirk through the vague reflection on the metal doors.
"No, no, you look less scary not dressed up as a statue." He laughs. "Just don't mind us, we're just coasting through, right Ziva?"
Domitian flashes his eyes between the boy's district partner back to his own, noticing Ancartha ball his hands into fists angrily. He watches them for a few seconds as it relaxes back. He takes a mental note of that as they stand in silence.
The rest of the day is going to be fun for sure.
Rohn Sapote, District Eleven Male, Thirteen
The vibrancy of colours and the gushing crowds, the larger screens showing them off to the districts and to the whole of Panem are to be stripped away in the coming three days. Training is starting. Three days of somewhat strenuous activities are to start. What is stressful and tense for some is often useful and enjoyable for others.
At least that's what his mentor told him at breakfast. Bergamot Musambi is a man of few words but between him and their escort, Kitty, they seem to fill in each other's blanks. Rohn had barely listened to their advice, too busy admiring the luxuries in front of him at the table.
The growing crowd of tributes is completed by the boy from Three. His general creepy demeanour is on display as he stands beside his district partner. Rohn takes this moment to look around him, all twenty-four tributes have gathered in the training hall.
Now that they are away from all the flashing lights and the colourful clothing he finds that some of the tributes that looked imposing before now look softer and less scary, but that's also the same for those that did not look scary before are now somewhat more scarier.
Once they have gathered together, the woman that had been waiting for them at the front coughs, to clear her throat, as she adjusts her suit jacket and looks through the clipboard she is holding onto. She seems to take a mental note for each tribute staring them in the eyes, noticing that some of them avert their gaze and others just nod at her as if they knew who she was.
"Training." She says adjusting her footing, gathering everyone's attention as she puts the clipboard to her side. "I'm sure you are all a bit antsy and that is understandable. Your fate has taken you in a different direction, but I believe that each one of you has the potential to come out on top."
Rohn sees a few tributes scoff at her words, and even he couldn't help but roll his eyes. He has had a look at his competition, and he would wager that his odds are slim and maybe even non-existent. He knows full well that he might be going home in a box, hence why he seemed to have resigned himself to enjoying what luxuries he could have at this moment, maybe once he's in the arena and his odds increase he can start to think what could be instead, but for now he can't fathom the idea of winning, not with some of these brutish tributes around.
"I can see that some of you don't believe that statement?" She says with a challenging smile. "I always like to be proved wrong, so exceeding expectations is all I am going to say to that; saying that, however, after the training sessions are over you will be evaluated on your progress and performance, so I suggest you show us something worth showing."
She doesn't say anything else, instead sternly looking at everyone as she ticks off something on her clipboard, she starts to head forward parting the group of tributes in front of her as they all hear her clicking of heels fade into the large training hall.
Juniper, his ever-loving district partner leave his side immediately prompting another roll of his eyes. This little girl had been nothing but hostile towards her ever since they met and he doesn't even know why she is like that. She needs to get a grip on reality.
He looks around now, still standing where everyone was two minutes ago. He's scanning the hall for potential allies, although he wonders if this is too early to think it through when those other tributes are tentatively staying with their district partners, well some of them anyway. He resigns to working by himself just now and whatever happens later he will take it.
His feet take him to one side of the training hall, a myriad of stations showing off various survival stations. Something that can help a tribute survive in whatever wilderness the Gamemakers through at them. He wanders towards one of the empty stations, a place where you can start a fire should you have the right tools.
"A fire can help in a pinch." A trainer talks to him as he approaches the station, his dark eyes look at him with contempt, ignoring his wisdom as he opts to read one of the various signs that instructs how to start a fire.
He tries his best to start a fire, gathering materials around the makeshift forest floor, sitting on the ground and reading the instructions. He twists the starter stick down the way in quick rapid motion, trying to ignite it. He could see a semblance of smoke before the sparks fizzled out.
"I think you're supposed to do it faster." He hears a voice from behind, a softer voice as he spins his head. The boy from Eight looks at him with a smile to accompany his voice.
Rohn just stands up, scoffing at the boy as he throws the stick on the ground, and without another word leaves the station onto the next. He doesn't look back at the poor boy who dared cross his path.
His head does turn towards the other side of the hall as various tributes have gathered around a weapon station, already talking to each other and acting all friendly. Rohn tries his best not to roll his eyes at the irony of it all, in a few days they'd be killing each other.
The rope-tying station is where he scurries off to, something that he feels he would be good at given his tendency to use ropes back in Eleven. He isn't alone, however, as the boy from Three is there already reading a pamphlet.
He looks over to the Three boy as he drops the piece of paper and begins to work on his knot-tying skills. He uses one end of the rope to tie a knot around a pole before pulling it tightly then going over to a mannequin and tying it around it using a different technique.
"You have to teach me how to do that," Rohn speaks up and the boy looks at him, a smile creeping up on his face.
"What? This simple knot? Don't they teach you that back in your district?" He says seemingly goading or joking with him.
"Yet you're so good at tying knots for a district that doesn't deal with ropes," He says back poignantly and he seems to giggle slightly at Rohn.
"Touché, Mr. Eleven."
"It's Rohn Sapote, and you are Uri Fukuro." He says and the boy continues to widen his smile. "Now I can trade knowledge, your skills for my own?"
"What could you possibly offer me?" He says pulling the rope he was holding on to tightly. "I am older than you, therefore I have more experience."
Rohn just nods his head, not doubting his speech as he mulls his statement over. He assesses the situation again; Uri is from Three. He can deduce that he would not know anything about plants, whereas in Eleven he thought it from a younger age. He has a head start on that in regards to him.
"Plant knowledge," he offers, and Uri seems to raise an eyebrow at him. "I know what is poisonous, toxic or safe to eat."
Uri seemingly considers his offer before nodding his head. He looks at him, the smile fading slightly. He lets go of the rope he was holding, the mannequin dropping to the floor. He hands him another length of rope, seemingly agreeing to the offer.
Rohn smiles to himself, if he continues this way, maybe he could get everyone to help him be better, and win the Games in the process.
Tyra Canorzia, District Eight Female, Sixteen
'It's just the first day, take your time.'
Her mentor's words vibrate through her head as she wanders the endless stations presented before her. The one piece of advice that she had given was to try and work on building skills as well as try to make alliances. She had tried her hand at knot tying, once the boy from Three and Eleven had gone, then she flitted towards fire making. She felt pretty overwhelmed already, yet she felt like she had not made much progress in training or making alliances.
The previous night's events seem to all meld into one colourful ball in her head, not being able to tell where the red begins and where the violet ends. To say she was in a perpetual state of confusion and fear was an understatement. She was in over her head at this point and she can't seem to get out of it.
She looks towards where her district partner, Tullio, is and he seems to be chatting away with the boy from Six. She is happy for him, yet she can't help but feel a pang of jealousy for both of them; there is no place for those so young. However, here they are, trying their best but she feels a bit jealous at how fast he was at making friends.
Her mentor's voice echoes through her head again as she fears about her wasting time once again. Her concentration on what she was currently doing was not holding as it easily collapsed to the dusty ground. She sighs to herself seeing the leaves that make a forest floor flutter away from her poorly made trap.
Another glance at the tributes makes her panic slightly, mainly because she feels that most of her fellow tributes are using their time efficiently. She couldn't help but compare herself to the Ones, Twos and Fours as they showcase to each other their various use of weaponry.
Tyra looks back at her own time spent at training, a broken contraption on the ground, a pile of sticks and wire that isn't catching anything soon. She can feel the sense of dejection creeping up her skin as she re-reads the piece of paper that held the instructions once more.
"You have to build the base first." She can hear a voice as soft as winter snow comes from behind her, turning around reveals a meek-looking girl and it didn't take long for Tyra to recognise her as the district Three girl. She twirls her thumbs not making direct eye contact with her as she continues to speak. "M-may I show you?"
Tyra can only nod as she makes space for the girl to show her how to build a trap from scratch. She watches as she arranges the sticks into a coherent base before tying the string around them. She can see her take a sturdy rock, hammering one of the bases to the soft earth before tying a small knot around a spare branch.
"How are you so good at this?" Tyra says moving closer now to inspect the small trap that the little girl had made, to say she was impressed was an understatement. She doesn't respond as she makes the finishing touches. "I must have at least tried two or three times to try and build this."
"It's simple once you understand the root of it all." She says quietly as she steps away from the trap she had constructed and all Tyra can do is offer an understanding smile, she should just accept that she'll never be good at this but she appreciates the demonstration.
"My name is Tyra by the way." She says to the girl almost forgetting to introduce herself.
"Portia." The other girl says curtly and smiles at Tyra. "Would you like to stick around for a while?"
She could see that Portia relaxes when Tyra nods her head, she could tell she's a big bag of nerves. However, she may try and learn things from the small Three girl, she could prove useful to her survival. In truth, she feels envious of her skills but she shouldn't judge her just yet, she could also be putting up some sort of act.
"Do you want to keep working on traps?" Tyra asked the little girl and all she could offer was a small nod. "That's fine by me! Shall we try a more complex one?"
They begin to work together but it seems that Tyra's mind seems to fade in and out thinking about her life back home. How not even a couple of days ago she was stealing from the rich and selling them for some sort of profit in the black market.
She used to have it all back home in Eight, though twists of fate had led her to rise from the top. Now the same fate had condemned her to the Hunger Games and just like before, she now has to rise once more. She's done it before so she can do it again.
With a renewed sense of determination, she looks around the hall once more, scanning each tribute with hopes of allying herself with them. The Six and Seven girls seem to be working together at the plant identification station and the Nine pair are sticking together at some weapon station.
"Tyra?" She snaps out of her thinking looking at the complex trap that Portia had made. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah…yeah." She says with a straight smile. "That looks like it could trap the biggest tribute here!"
Portia turns red as she demonstrates with a mannequin close by, Tyra helping her with it. Once triggered the rope seemed to tie itself around the foot of the mannequin catapulting it into the wall nearby. She looks shocked at the strength of a trap that Portia had made.
"Oh! I think it needs to be fine-tuned just a little bit more." She says trying to apologise for launching the mannequin towards a wall.
Tyra is still amazed that such a small tribute could make a dangerous trap such as this in an hour or so. She now believes that what the woman said this morning may be true, that each one of them can come out victorious.
At this point Tyra decided that she should pay attention now as Portia started tweaking the trap, she looked at her and smiled and Tyra could only return it with a half-hearted one which didn't seem to affect her new ally.
Lily-Rose Damery, District Six Female, Seventeen
It seems silly to be worrying about your life back at home when you're faced with probable death, but Lily-Rose was never one to let go easily. Despite what others may think about her, the plants that she grew back in Six were her only real friends. She would speak to them on the daily before doing anything, and the fact that Peacekeepers were planning on raiding them made her panic slightly.
Maybe that's why she gravitated towards the Seven girl, Briar. They had spent most of the morning together, just casually talking about their home and who they had waiting at home. Though Lily-Rose didn't divulge that Ziggy, Sammy and June were all the plants she looked after and called friends.
She needed to shift her perspective and try and focus on the task at hand, she knows this and her newfound alliance in Briar has told her so much. This is why she had found herself at a weapon's station closer to the entrance of the training hall. The Ones and Twos seemed to have gravitated towards each other around one of the survival stations and left the Fours alone to do their own thing.
She notices that the rest of the tributes have shifted towards the weapons as the afternoon rolls in. She wouldn't blame them, the upper districts tend to be scary in combat, she heard from the brief lucidity of her mentor that they train for the Hunger Games before volunteering which she found odd.
"Are you okay?" Briar asks her and it snaps Lily-Rose out of her head just enough for her to nod her head to an affirmative. "Shall we try and work together on how to use this?"
Briar holds a knife in her hand, a simple knife amongst the many daggers that could be found littered on a table nearby. She doesn't know what to think of her quite yet but what she does think is how well-versed the Seven girl was at knife skills. "Why don't you go ahead first?"
Her ally nods her head as she grips tightly onto the knife approaching the mannequin and trying to stab it with the weapon, trying her best to pierce the plastic skin it had but seemingly struggling. The trainer approaches Briar and gives her a dagger, explaining to her the most vital points for quick kills.
She watches as the girl changes her stance following the trainer and she strikes once more, the new dagger sinking itself into the mannequin with greater ease. Briar pulls out the weapon and watches as red-dyed cotton comes loose with it.
A few tributes were looking their way and Lily-Rose couldn't help but feel uneasy at the ease that these weapons find their way onto skin. She shivers at the thought of these weapons ever piercing her skin. She doesn't want to divulge it further but it's in the back of her mind as Briar continues to perform more knife skills.
"Where is your district partner?" Lily-Rose musters up a question to try and distract herself from some impending doom, she hasn't seen much of Vincent but the last time she saw him was at the trap-making station with the boy from Five.
Briar turns around to face Lily-Rose, shrugging her shoulder as she wipes a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. "He's too full of himself to talk to," she starts taking a sip of water from a nearby bottle. "I asked if he wanted to ally but he flat out rejected me so I don't care where he has ended up."
The girl from Six nods her head, her district partner never asked her to be in an alliance either, probably too nervous to speak to her but she manages to find Saint Pancras currently chatting away with the boy from Eight at the fire-making station. The fourteen-year-old boy seems to enjoy speaking to him which is a contrast to what he was like during the train ride over.
Although she was the same during that day, too shocked and withdrawn to be able to speak to anyone. Their escort, Charles, was the only person who would speak that night. She remembers sitting at the dinner table listening to the escort list the order of events, her slow glances to the couch where their mentor, Dash, lay sleeping and twitching. It wasn't until the day after when they arrived in the Capitol that she had to accept her untimely fate.
"Did you manage to think of new alliances?" Briar once again takes her out of her daydreaming as she stands beside her, a slight concern on her face before looking around at the other tributes.
"I think the Eight and Three girls might be a good bet." She says quietly as she takes the offer of water from Briar. "What do you think?"
It takes a moment for Briar to speak mulling over their potential choices. "They have potential, the trap that flung the mannequin looked pretty well made, and it looks like it would hurt too."
She remembers being impressed with that contraption, likely due to the Three girl's smarts more than anything. Though she shouldn't discount the Eight girl, looks can be deceiving. She knows this much from plants, a beautiful flower can prove deadly.
"We could offer an exchange of knowledge?" Lily-Rose says and Briar nods her head, they were at the plant identification station earlier when the trap was triggered, and the two of them seemingly aced the test. "Should we approach them now?"
"We should give them their space just now," Briar says shaking her head, her more introverted nature showing.
Lily-Rose nods as she looks back to the weapons walking from the station they were in to another one, Briar following her slowly. She glides her fingers across the table, the weapons of varying length and deadliness scaring her. Her tentative fingers brushed upon a machete, and she lifted it expecting it to be light but it was heavier than she anticipated.
She can see Briar look at her with encouragement before moving away and taking a seat. She doesn't say anything but quietly watches as Lily-Rose tries, and fails, to slash at the arm of a mannequin, instead the blade slicing through its legs. She trembled at the feeling as the familiar red cotton spilt slightly from it.
Briar offers her a supportive smile when she turns back to face her, but she quickly puts the weapon back. Lily-Rose sees that Briar is scanning more of the tributes, and within her, she feels that the Seven girl was only with her because she was nice to her one time. She chews on her thumb as she eyes the machete again, she should practice more.
Picking up the weapon she tried again, this time hitting her intended target, though she was still lost in thought. She hopes that Briar being with her is not because she was just being nice. She couldn't shake the feeling away as she did another slash.
Azrael Asterin, District Five Male, Eighteen
The night was fast approaching, the first day of training was coming to a close and all Azrael could do was laugh at himself. His whole situation would be truly amusing if he looked at it differently. He muses that finding small victories in whatever fate had thrown his way gets harder the older you grow. He's trying his best to hold it together at this moment by finding everything funny.
Ziva, his district partner lingers around him and has been since lunch had finished more than a few hours ago. He's sitting at a survival station, something about learning what is poisonous and what isn't. He hasn't paid much attention to the trainer, who just huffs as she goes to stand at her post. He looks at Ziva with grey eyes, the way she would stand stoically but offer the occasional fidget as if she's fighting something within her.
He admits that she has some uses, she speaks when spoken to and doesn't offer up much conversation. It was more than enough for Azrael to try and strike up some sort of alliance with his district partner, she could prove useful come the time that they are in the arena.
His eyes land on a few more tributes littered around the arena. The pair from Nine seem formidable, two volunteers from their district have been unheard of in the history of the Hunger Games, or so that's what their escort tells them during breakfast, so maybe he can find a way to join his alliance.
The other person he could see benefiting him is the angry and cocky boy from Seven, he's straight to the point and looks remarkably strong, having spent the majority of the day throwing axes and chopping arms and legs off the mannequins. He might prove difficult in recruiting and managing but that's something he would have to worry about and he can manage him.
"Ziva, why don't you come and join me and learn about poisons." He calls out to her and she looks in his direction, reluctantly obeying crossing her arms as she reads the various information on the table.
On the grey table lay a variety of plants ranging from the Belladona to the seemingly harmless foxglove. He reads the instructions on how to make such poisons and what to look out for to make sure that it has worked. He fingers a few of the petals looking at the colours. If one were to ingest a potent amount it seems that the poison effects happen relatively quickly ranging from cardiac symptoms to breathing difficulties.
Everything that he has learned today has been useful to him and no doubt this would be one too. His mind is already formulating what type of person he's going to be, one that uses poison from afar whilst recruiting those to fight in his stead. He has spent the majority of his day learning about various survival skills, and his plan to try and coast through the early days of the Games before leaving his alliance is slowly coming to fruition. He never claimed to be a good person, that part of him is long gone.
Azrael was known back in his little group to fight and scrap with anyone from time to time, with his explosive personality often coming out when he's being tested. So he's not scared should he need to teach someone a lesson, though this time around he would be by himself normally he would rely on his friends to back him up, but he knows he can manage someone from Seven.
It seems that he has to start from scratch all over again and in some way, he finds this fun. The concept of starting over, a chance to make new enemies and alliances seems to thrill his little chaotic heart. He takes a sample of the poison he had concocted using it to poison a small rat in its cage. Within seconds it seems to rush about before slowing down and succumbing to its death.
Ziva stirs around him uncomfortably, she has stopped paying attention to him and is now staring back at the weapons station which makes Azrael raise an eyebrow. He can sense some sort of unresolved trauma in her that she doesn't seem to want to divulge and with every slight movement she makes Azrael seems to notice.
"Do you want to try the weapons, Ziva?" He says wiping his hand with a wet cloth and joining her in staring at the various weapon stations. "You should go ahead and do it."
"Hamish told us to stay together for the first day." She responds quickly looking at him with a blank expression, as if a soldier repeating the words of their commander.
"Hamish is not the one going in the arena in a couple of days," Azrael says dismissing their mentor and she seems to stir at the slight insubordination. "Neither does Kenna, so go on and do what your body is telling you, not what your mind is commanding you."
Ziva continues to look at him hesitantly before moving away from her and onto a hand-to-hand combat station. Azrael drops the cloth on the grey table behind him watching as his district partner makes their way to a trainer and they immediately begin to practice fighting.
His eyes seemed to widen at the rapid pace that Ziva was moving as if she had done this all her life. He couldn't believe that the girl who seemed so reticent had managed to pin the trainer in just a couple of minutes. He couldn't help but look around as the loud thud of the trainer hitting the mat attracted the attention of several tributes in the hall.
With just one action it seemed to have marked her again as a potential threat, another person to write on their list to either kill or avoid in the arena, and someone for Azrael to potentially take advantage of in the future. He couldn't help but smile as he could see the girl from Two with a slightly open mouth, clearly in shock.
She makes eye contact with him for a brief second Azrael manages to give her a smirk daring her for a challenge. He could feel the annoyance from her as she returned to whatever she was doing. At that moment, Azrael returns to the fun feeling he has been feeling all day.
