Another OC here POV for the private training sessions!
~ Meghan
(also I haven't spellchecked this chapter yet, but just had to get it out to motivate myself. so there's that.)
"A desire to resist oppression is implanted in the nature of man."
- Tactius, 56 AD - 120 AD, Roman Empire
The Informer.
...
Dolusa Coat, Gamemaker-In-Training
...
- The Capitol -
Dolusa had never been late to anything in his life.
He was always early to his classes during university, always to bed on time, always rising early.
Still, he was nearly late on his first day observing the training private sessions. Nearly. But the Capitol didn't make it easy to get there on time.
Triumph Circle was swarming with traffic and crowds. Cars and motorbikes circled the roundabout at the heart of the metropolis, buildings ringing it the glimmering morning sun. Along the sidewalks, hordes of people buzzed about their plans for the day before the evening's celebrations.
The tributes' scores would be released tonight. It was the busiest time for betting and - like the reaping - it was a day when everyone would gather around their televisions to watch the program. There were dinner parties being prepared, bars and clubs advertising their midnight hours, and bank accounts being dipped into.
Avoxes moved among the crowds. In their white uniforms, heads down, they rarely drew attention. Those who were smart had quickly learned how to move through the Capitolites like smoke, moving between spaces, barely seen and gone within moments. Their arms were piled with shopping bags overflowing with vegetables, liquor bottles, and shining fabric.
Dolusa noticed those Avoxes. He moved like them.
He wasn't wearing his violet robe yet, folded up in his satchel as it was.
In his pressed maroon suit, he was just another citizen, not someone going to the Training Center. The fabric was a soft cotton and ramie blend; it wasn't luxurious like those walking past in silk and gem-studded leather, but it was breathable in the summer heat and presentable with no loose threads. His silver eyeliner and ears lined with steel studs were subtle and elegant - they weren't following the current trends of bright orange or chromium, but they weren't out of date either.
For as long as he could remember, Dolusa knew he could blend into crowds like this. They moved around him like parting water and he knew they wouldn't remember him after walking past. He was average height, average build. His eyes were hazel, his hair medium brown, his skin olive, his facial hair trimmed and shaped to follow his face that was neither angular nor soft.
In all regards, Dolusa appeared to be in the center of every statistic. His only notable characteristic that set him apart from others was his ability to see what others didn't. That, he felt, was the reason why he'd continuously done well on exams. His time at the academy and, then, university was marked by his perfect attendance and commendable grades. They'd been enough to earn him an internship with the Gamemakers after all.
It had been enough to earn him the introductory rank of Gamemaker-In-Training for the 42nd Hunger Games.
The Training Center wasn't a far walk from Triumph Circle. Dolusa enjoyed the walk there, and opted for it except only on the most bitter days during winter. As he moved into the City Center, crossing swept sidewalks lined with uniform trees, he caught snatches of conversation.
"-and the worst thing happened, she had to move my hair appointment-"
"-we'll be making a stew for dinner-"
"-he'll be betting on the ones from Four no doubt-"
"-I thought the cape went well with the velvet hat-"
"-hopefully we'll get a better look now, I do miss the parade-"
By the time he'd crossed under the rainbow of skyscrapers and into the Training Center, he had heard about no less than twenty parties and opinions on at least half of the tributes, from their parade costumes to their score predictions.
Inside the air conditioning of the Training Center, Dolusa swept past the front desk. They always noticed him, at least, and let him into the glass elevators.
The clock struck nine o'clock as soon as he pressed the basement button for the gymnasium. As the elevator descended, he opened his bag and took out his purple robe.
The tributes would have the morning. The Gamemakers would observe as always, and confer with the instructors. Then, from one o'clock to seven, it would be six hours of private training sessions. As an intern, Dolusa hadn't been invited. As a junior Gamemaker, his opinion wasn't particularly important. But he was still there.
The morning passed like the others, and Dolusa was quiet. He never spoke unless spoken to. The other Gamemakers - those who wore the darker purple robes, the full-fledged members - prompted the instructors with questions. They discussed the tributes' progress, strengths, and weaknesses among themselves. Rarely was Dolusa asked for his input. Most of the time, he was just asked the typical niceties (had he slept well, how was he holding up with the heat, what were his plans for that night) and he answered the banality that was expected.
By the time lunch was happening, and the Gamemakers gathered for the private sessions, Minerva was quiet herself. She didn't take notes like the others did, instead seeming to commit all her thoughts to memory. Perhaps it was this talent that helped her become the Head Gamemaker this year.
"First tribute entering now," Gamemaker Catallus announced. "District One."
The Gamemakers reluclantly hushed. Some were already glancing towards the banquet brought by Avoxes, but the first tribute won out. For now.
Dolusa didn't mind being quiet and observing. It was what he preferred; he studied them all as he did a school assignment.
Finnegan Armani walked into the gymnasium, tall and broad-shouldered, though slumping slightly.
He peered over at the Gamemakers, gave a respectful nod, and headed towards the blades. A ripple of anticipation was nearly palpable among the Gamemakers as the waited to see which weapon this tribute would select.
He picked up a scythe - an unusual weapon more seen among those from 9 or 11. Then he strode to the dummies. In a practiced flurry, he sliced limbs and heads off, dismembering them as easy as breathing. It was almost grotesquely elegant.
Finnegan finished the display by pulling his arm back and flinging the scythe at a dummy. It cut through the dummy's chest, sinking in like a throwing ax. Finnegan brushed off his shirt and went to the weights where he lifted the heaviest items, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, but otherwise looking entirely in his element.
Dolusa expected him to spend the final minutes of his session at another weapons station. But instead he walked to the edible plants and selected several edible flowers among an array of poisonous belladonna and oleander.
...
After the dummies had been replaced, the weapons straightened, Amethyst Amberdust appeared with measured, practiced steps and posture impeccable.
She gave a diamond-bright smile to the Gamemakers before going to the throwing knives, eyes narrowed with determination. She held a fan of knives, striking dummies with deadly accuracy, landing blades into their hearts with a flourish on the last one. She went to the spears next and selected the one Dolusa had seen her favor during training.
Her adeptness with spears was just as commendable as that with throwing knives. When Amethyst went to the archery station next, it was clear they weren't her particular specialty, but she was still accomplished as she pulled the string back and skewered arrows into dummies' heads. She glanced over at the Gamemakers once, as if to see if they were watching - as if they could look away.
She went to the wrestling station next, and spoke to the instructor waiting there. After a short exchange of words, they went to the mat and simulated hand-to hand combat. While Amethyst wasn't particular large or muscular, she dodged punches and kicks with a deft agility, landing quick hits that would've been lethal with a knife in her hand.
...
The most imposing tribute, Garrick Raymond stalked across the gymnasium like the Gamemakers weren't any of his concern.
Predictably, he went to the swords first and executed a brutal attack on the dummies that left the floor scattered with foam. Using dulled weapons, he and the instructor fought each other, with Garrick demonstrating the lightning-fast movements that Dolusa had watched during training. His sword was a silver blur, as if it had become of the boy himself.
The rest of his session was equally impressive, with a heavy focus on weapons just like Amethyst. He was accomplished with maces, flails, axes, and spears, even throwing a few weights across the station with booming echoes around the gymnasium. When he challenged the instructor at wrestling, it was a thrilling fight, with Garrick managing to subdue his opponent as he slammed him to the ground.
...
Princess Daylight flounced in and smiled at the Gamemakers, though her expression was tinged with nervousness.
Still, she walked to the archery station and picked up the bow and arrows with unshaking hands. No doubt she was used to examinations in District 2 and, just like in training, her talent with archery was obvious. She managed to hit the bullseye with nearly every arrow, and even began shooting at other stations' dummies, grinning the whole time.
Unlike the others before her, that was her only weapon station. She went to knot-tying next and managed to tie several basic-yet-crucial slip and square knots. After that was the fire-starting station where she took longer, her forehead scrunching with frustration. But then sparks flickered among the leaves and twigs she'd gathered and flames flared to life.
...
Kyrie Dirge was already sweating when he appeared.
He was ghostlike with his messy silver hair and sleep bruises beneath his eyes. He shuffled for a moment, head swiveling between stations and the Gamemakers, before drifting towards the knife station. The Gamemakers settled to watch him, to see what progress he'd made, and were disappointed as a knife slid in Kyrie's hand and clattered to the floor.
He cast a glance across the gymnasium and nearly stumbled over himself as he went to the fire-starting station.
For a tribute from a factory district, he pieced together the fire quickly. The flames, though, took much longer. As he struck two flint stones, sparks striking but never alighting the leaves, he wiped at his forehead. Minutes ticked by. He grabbed a stick and began trying to rub it against a stone quickly, but only smoke puffed out.
The boy finally dropped the sticks. He leapt up and hurried to the hammock station. Pulling several pieces of thick grass off the table, he went back to his fire pit. Taking a branch, he wound the grass around it, and began to saw it. Instead of his hands, the grass twirled the stick faster, and, after a minute, fire flared to life. Kyrie sat back on his knees, looking even more tired than before.
...
Hanna Techroe walked in, eyes distant, thin face closed off.
She turned only once to regard the Gamemakers with a cold, cunning look before ignoring them. It reminded Dolusa of their Head Gamemaker, suddenly. Unlike so many other tributes, Hanna was a healthy weight, unburdened by starvation, a significant if oft overlooked advantage.
Hanna camouflage station first and spent nearly ten minutes transforming herself. By the end, her limbs were painted in an array of disguises: one leg was a moss-covered forest, the other a desert showered by evening sun; one arm was a bed of gray stones, the other a red-clay mountainside. As she left the camouflage station covered in paints, she cast a look back at the brushes that was the closest thing Dolusa saw to an emotion from the girl.
Then she was going to the knife station and handling them in a capable, if slightly shaky way. For a tribute who'd only first picked up a blade three days ago, it was good. But, compared to the lethal displays before, it wasn't good enough.
Finally, Hanna went to the knot-tying station. While Dolusa had expected her to make a simple display of hitch knots or the like, she watched in fascination as Hanna managed to make a rope of quick knots with a loop. It was too small to be a noose, too wide to be useful for holding up supplies.
The girl walked over to the knife station and threw her rope up over a bar holding lights. The loop was on the floor. Then Hanna pushed a dummy onto the rope and with a snap, the dummy was suspended in the air by one of its ankles.
...
Marlen Beckett strode in, chin up, shoulders thrown back.
A grin lit up his tanned face as he surveyed all the stations waiting, just for him.
Like Garrick, it was a display entirely of weapons, each more deadly than the last. The knives were first. Marlen seemed to prefer fighting with them, rather than throwing them, more assured with them in his palm and jabbing into a dummy's heart up close. He skipped axes, and went to spears, moving through a sequence of close-quarter fighting and throwing.
As befitted someone from District 4, he wielded a trident with grace. He even made a show of spinning it several times, and flourishing the gleaming silver weapon, so at ease they he could take his time to display the glamour of fighting with it. It was a show enough to keep the Gamemakers entranced, and earn approving nods.
...
When Marina Fisher walked in, she stared at the Gamemakers openly for several seconds.
Dolusa couldn't quite pin the emotions behind the look, but there was a defiant edge to the way she didn't bother to smile.
She went to the knives first, too, though she spent a while throwing them at the targets. The knives weren't perfectly precise in the bull's-eyes, but they were close enough to do damage to internal organs. Then she went to the instructor, murmuring something. The man walked to the edible insects station, picked up a short, thin blade.
Once he'd given it to her, she went to the fire-starting station. Quickly, Dolusa's confusion turned to understanding. It was a shucking knife, and Marina opened walnuts and pinecones as quickly and as easily as breathing.
From there, she went to the knot-tying station and wove several complicated webs of robes together. Dolusa half-expected her to go to the tridents next, to conjure up the image of her with a net in the arena, but instead she went to the axes. Picking up a sleek one, she spun and hacked her way through several dummies, eyes blazing and determined.
...
As another volunteer, Newt Littlesmith's appearance generated attention from the Gamemakers quickly.
The tributes from 5 were never as malnourished as those from the outer districts, and volunteers from there weren't rare, but Power in particular didn't have the routine build that fit the volunteer model so often patterned. Though he was tall, he was clearly malnourished, with cheeks slightly gaunt.
But he gave a charming smile to the Gamemakers as he loped to the swords station, as if he knew their thoughts, and planned on proving them wrong.
His swordfighting was promising. Though clearly already experienced in some form of melee combat, he had been improved each day during training. Though it had seemed to take Newt a little while to become used to the weight of the swords, his footwork and willingness to strike proved a challenge as he sparred the instructor.
Then he faltered
Dolusa frowned. He'd seen Newt pull off that particular parry in training several times. He'd never missed before.
But then Newt was being beat back, and he tripped back on the mat. The instructor had him at swordpoint.
...
Liz Baker walked into the room next, and, as Dolusa realized, this was the tribute they'd truly been waiting to give their attention to.
Where Newt had looked at the Gamemakers, spoken to them, Liz didn't even spare them a glance. It was as if she was in the gymnasium alone. But judging by the hard set of her jaw, Dolusa could surmise that it was a pointed effort to not look at them. It was a statement.
If the other Gamemakers picked up on it, though, they didn't show it. They perked up, sitting up straighter, eyes trained on her to see which station she'd go to first.
They'd already seen her wrestle in training. She was incredibly strong, even more so than Amethyst or Marina. It was like watching brutal art as Liz and the instructor grappled, and she got the best of him more times than not, a burning anger in her eyes. Every so often her gaze moved to Head Gamemaker Minerva, and Dolusa liked to imagine that Liz was pretending to wrestle the architect of their arena - to defeat the woman in some way, even if it wasn't real.
During the last half of the session, Liz went to the weights. She threw them across the room with a yell, taking out dummies with dumbbells instead of just lifting them. It was like a spectacular show to the Gamemakers who murmured delightedly among themselves. With Liz's presence, they said, the sponsors would be particularly intriguing to watch this year.
But Dolusa hadn't missed the way she'd brushed off the trained tributes who'd attempted to speak to her.
...
Trip Hewitt was one of the wild card tributes so far, but he walked in like had a vengeance.
He walked immediately to the wrestling station, spoke to the instructor, and they started a hand-to-hand combat match in the ring. He had the same relentless determination now that Dolusa had noticed in Head Gamemaker Mira's notes.
With the attention he'd been given by the allied tributes from wealthy districts, versus his own natural inclination thus far towards intensity, it was an interesting question about what was motivating his training session. Was there a high score he wanted to achieve to appease his prospective allies? Was it a high score for potential sponsors? Or was it just his nature?
Like most things, Dolusa figured there wasn't a simple solution, and it was probably a mix of variables.
Trip dodged the instructors hits and kicks, moving an agility impressive for someone as tall as him, and managed to land a few of his own. After finishing their fight, Trip wiped his forehead off and walked to the spears. He wasn't incredibly talented with them, but he was capable. Instead of throwing them, he managed to turn his way through the field of dummies and stab the spear into them with impressive speed.
...
Still in her leather jacket from the reaping, the one she'd worn every day of training, Mustang Lane had a grin blazing on her face.
It was a mocking look. The kind of derision that occasionally showed itself among tributes was something Dolusa found fascinating. Sometimes those obstinate tributes had already given up on survival, and turned all their fury towards the Gamemakers. It was futile, of course; they could never harm the Gamemakers. But then others had the kind of defiance that spat in the face of fatalism and they were always trouble.
Mustang walked to each station, then paused at the sword station. She made a show of stretching for a minute, like she was spoiled for time. When she finally picked up a sword, Dolusa leaned forward slightly - would she throw it down?
Instead, Mustang pivoted, sword in hand, as a thought had just occurred to her and she wasn't in the business of questioning impulses. She turned to the weight section and rushed over.
The Gamemakers glanced at one another, eyebrows raised.
Mustang walked up to one of the sandbags and drew the sword over her shoulder like a gleaming flash. She struck at the sandbag and it fell to the floor, bursting open. But she ignored it and yanked at the chain it had hung from, pulling it an acute angle it was never designed to be drawn to, the it snapped. The chain fell beside her with an echoing clatter.
Tossing the sword aside, Mustang picked up the chain, winding it around one wrist. And then she started swinging it. The chain scratched at the floor, scraped loudly, but she windmilled it almost artfully. Then she set about destroying all the other sandbags nearby, slashing into them and spilled sand across the floor.
...
Caoimhin Austin gave the Gamemakers a tentative glance as he walked in, reluctantly, as if he'd been telling himself not to look.
Then he turned and hurried to the ax station, as did most from District 7. His skill with fighting with the weapon - both throwing them and swing them into dummies from close-range - was natural; it was almost elegant.
Once he'd destroyed several dummies, chest heaving, he went to the climbing net and scaled it quickly. Several Gamemakers nodded in approval, glad for a tribute so far who utilized the net. After the net, he spent the rest of his time as the edible plant station.
Sorting through the herbs, poisons, and roots seemed like second nature for Cin. He carefully separated out the dangerous from the edible. Once a few Gamemakers realized he wouldn't ingest a poison and make an interesting show, they turned back towards the banquet.
...
Evlin Grove peered over at the Gamemakers when she walked in.
Though she was one of the younger tributes in the Games this year, there was a cunningness in her dark hazel eyes that made Dolusa pause.
But, unfortunately - or, possibly, fortunately - for her, this was where the Gamemakers' interest typically began to wane. And this time was no different.
As she went to the ax station, they went towards the banquet of food. A new arrival of fruits and pastries had the Gamemakers occupied - mostly. There was one exception who, as Evlin began to sink an ax into a dummy, was sipping her posca and watching shrewdly.
Head Gamemaker Mira hadn't made any remarks so far about the tributes. She hadn't even seemed impressed much, not even during Liz Baker's session. Whatever thoughts she might have about the tributes were being so kept close that the woman wasn't even bothering with writing down her thoughts. Where was Evlin in her ranking?
In the gymnasium, Evlin continued to hack at the dummies until she was sweating, but even then she didn't stop until the limbs and heads of dummies were rolling across the floor like rain. When her fifteen minutes were up, Evlin almost seemed surprised.
She turned towards the Gamemakers and set the ax down. Dolusa didn't miss the reluctance she had letting it leave her hand.
...
Darrius Morningstar was tied for the youngest tribute, and this fact alone meant that his didn't draw much attention.
That seemed to be his eventual plan, though. After staring up at the Gamemakers, looking somewhere between nervous and confused, he'd gone started dashing from one end of the gymnasium to the other. He was quick for someone so small, and it was better than watching him try to struggle with a sword or ax.
Then he began to tuck himself behind dummies. After staying there for a minute, he'd dash to another spot, concealing himself from the Gamemakers.
Dolusa's lips twitched. Darrius was hiding. It was clever; most tributes who attempted to display hiding did so like Hanna, utilizing camouflage, but for Darrius it almost seemed to be a game. It was like hide-and-seek. Some Gamemakers chuckled, attention drawn back, and looked away as he hid, making a game among themselves about who could spot him the fastest. There was even a smile on Darrius' face.
...
While Dolusa was fairly adept at reading people, Pazley Steppe proved to be an enigma.
Her face was expressionless as she walked in, eyes so dark they seemed black, so short that she seemed younger than sixteen.
It wasn't panic. Dolusa had seen panic on tributes' faces before, so acute that they were disassociating or seemed lost, but Pazley seemed entirely calm. She turned away from the Gamemakers, face composed, shoulders straight.
And then she broke into a run. Even the Gamemakers who'd been focused on filling their plates looked up. Pazley sprinted at the camoflauge table, and right when she was about to slam into an explosion of paints and leaves - she leapt.
She somersaulted over the table and landed deftly on her feet. Then she was off again, racing to another station, and vaulting over the hook-making station. Pazley flipped over the edible insect station and raced to the net. Instead of climbing back down immediately once she'd reached the top, she pulled herself into the metal rafters above and walked along them, balanced precariously.
...
Royal Kariki walked in looking like he belonged in District 1. He had the muscular build and confident walk of one of their tributes.
Dolusa expected the boy to go towards the scythes that were typical of those who worked in the grain fields, but instead Royal went to the strength section first. He lifted increasingly heavier weights, motioning for the instructor to add more. Then he moved to the medicine balls and swung them across the station until they landed with booms on the wrestling mat. No doubt he'd been in manual labor in 9.
The Gamemakers paid attention, then, impressed.
Dolusa was more fascinated, though, when Royal went to the spear station. It was a skill he'd been working on during training and it had paid off. He wielded the spear like part of his arm. He didn't throw it as much as he held it, bracing against and striking at the dummies like it was a sharply lethal shield.
...
Alstromeria Kane almost skipped as she walked in the gymnasium.
Her gaze dipped towards the Gamemakers, a small smile flitting across her lips, and then she was off to the knot-tying station. While not nearly as much of a physical threat as Royal, Azzie proved a quick study with several intricate knots. She continued to the hook-making station, and swiftly threaded delicate vines around bone hooks.
The Gamemakers, though, were already murmuring amongst themselves about whatever they'd be doing that night. Her show of knots and hooks wasn't flashy. Instead, the subject of midnight parties celebrating the scores being revealed was the main focus.
Azzie glanced over her shoulder a couple times. Nervousness and something else flickered on her face, but then it was gone, and she was moving onto the knife station to pick up the slimmest, most delicate - and sharpest - blades. Her shoulders were set hard, and Dolusa knew she must've been ruminating on how the Gamemakers weren't paying her any mind. It was only sensible.
Then she moved to the net. Dolusa didn't remember seeing at the station during training, and quickly realized why. Like her district partner, she'd hidden a skill.
When she scaled the net in under a minute, it was clear why: she was agile, quick, and graceful.
Azzie made a show of scurrying down the net, and then climbing it again, this time even faster. She was breathing hard but a grin was on her face.
...
Nico Araceli marked the beginning of the outer most districts.
The Gamemakers barely paid him any mind, sipping their posca and eating platters of fruit. They didn't even catch the suspicious look he tossed their way.
For the rest of the time his face was unreadable. Nico rivaled Pazley for stoicism. He went through the stations slowly and, sometimes, shakily. His work with the spears was sloppy at best, though he seemed competent with a knife. He was no talent with anything it seemed.
Dolusa had learned better than counting out those tributes, though. Sometimes it was those who showed no propensity for weapons who proved the grittiest in the arena. The threat of death, it seemed, was a strong motivator - even more than Capitolites in purple gowns deciding on a score. But if Nico was concerned, he kept his face placid and worked through the edible insect table without complaint or disgust.
...
The Gamemakers finally paid a sliver of attention for Caroline Lile.
Her being a volunteer from an outer district made her a statistical outlier.
Whereas the other seven volunteers this year appeared to have ambitious goals as their main reason, this girl was clearly not the kind to pursue glory in the Games. She was clearly malnourished, as was typical for many from District 10. That combined with the way her pasty cheeks turned flaming red and she cast shy glances at the Gamemakers made their attention fade fast.
But Dolusa watched as she went to the various stations, focusing on those that weren't based on weapons but rather on pragmatic survival. She constructed a rudimentary shelter with a determined look on her face, taking the time to consider the various materials. Whereas on the first day of training she couldn't start a fire, now she set to work setting up the branches and kindling until flames flickered orange across her scarlet cheeks.
...
Whereas younger, smaller tributes often drew sympathy, they were a write-off for the Gamemakers. Yes, they provided plenty of emotional plot in the arena sometimes, and served as reliable bloodbath fodder, but as far as training went it was fairly pathetic.
Lewis Fowler was the youngest and smallest tribute by far. Dolusa was fascinated by his burlap gloves that he never removed, but the others didn't seem to share that interest, and spent the fifteen minutes discussing their next meeting the following morning.
But Lewis looked at the Gamemakers, blinking dark brown eyes. His gaze met Dolusa's and then slid away towards the wrestling ring.
A couple of the Gamemakers chuckled as the boy spoke to the instructor. They both donned boxing gloves and went to the center of the mat. Whatever expectations the other Gamemakers might have had, Dolusa hadn't anticipated the capability of someone so small. Lewis moved like boxing was second-nature and used his height to his advantage, dodging agilely and punching up. It wasn't enough to beat a trained, older tribute, but it was enough to keep him alive.
Lewis went to the knife station next and fought his way through several dummies. His familiarity with hand-to-hand combat aided itself to defensive positions, blocking with one arm and slashing with the other, and dashing to the next dummy. When he got to the gauntlet, sprinting across platforms, dodging obstacles, and climbing the net, the Gamemakers weren't laughing anymore.
...
Like Lewis, Juniper Argus wasn't a physical threat. While she was tall, she was frail, and in no shape to fight anyone.
On top of that, she was blind, and will all of that combined with her outer district status... it made her an afterthought for the Gamemakers.
Still. Dolusa had paid attention to her training. She was one of the tributes that the instructors for the hands-on skills had praised. Predictably, Juniper went to the hammock-making station first. She made quick work of weaving the vines together. She didn't finish the entire hammock - aware of her time limit, Dolusa guessed - but she demonstrated enough of the skill to prove she would be capable of it in the arena.
He expected her to go to the hook-making station or the one for crafting shelter, like she had during training.
Instead Juniper went to the poison station. The other Gamemakers didn't seem to take much notice as she felt the plants before her. Her fingers smoothed petals and broke stems. She brought each plant up to her nose. Then she sorted them into edible and inedible piles. The instructor peered at the plants as she murmured something. He nodded approvingly and replied to her quietly. A quick, small smile flashed across Juniper's face.
...
The last half hour of training was quite often a write-off. District 12 wasn't a source of excitement for the Gamemakers.
Darien Dragomir was old enough that he'd clearly had experience working in the mines, and he went dutifully to the pickaxes first. He didn't bother looking at the Gamemakers or the instructors. He kept his head down and swung the pickax into dummies.
Was he imagining being back home? Dolusa had to wonder how much damage had already been done to the boy's lungs. If the Games didn't kill the miners, the black lung they usually contracted would, and the Capitolites could hardly be enamored with such a sordid industry - even if it did keep their lights bright.
Darien eventually drifted from the pickax and went to the knot-tying station. He made simple poacher's knots, even attaching them to sticks in the fire-starting station to construct snares. They weren't fancy but they didn't need to be; it would keep him fed in the arena.
...
As the last tribute, Raven Night was merely an afterthought.
The Gamemakers were finishing plates of roasted duck and berry sauce by the time she walked in. She looked at the Gamemakers then, and her gaze moved to Head Gamemakers Minerva. There wasn't fear in her eyes, not that Dolusa could detect, even though the girl seemed timid in training.
She spent her private session at the knot-tying station as well. She hauled ropes from that station across the gymnasium, pulling the ropes taut between various stations' tables, weaving them until she stood at the center of a web. If anyone tried to pass through, they'd trip several of the ropes or become ensnared in them. It kept Raven in a bubble of protection at the center, just enough to give her time to escape someone.
"Thank you," Head Gamemaker Minerva said to Raven, once her fifteen minutes were up. It was the same neutral tone she'd used to every tribute.
Raven blinked at the Gamemakers. She left all her webbed knots behind and walked to the elevator, where an Avox pressed the buttons for her. With the final tribute out of the gymnasium, the instructors began to make their way to the elevator as well. The Avoxes set about cleaning everything up.
"It's a promising group," Gamemaker Antonina said. "There's a fair balance among skills."
"We'll convene tomorrow morning at six o'clock," Minerva responded uncomitally. "Come prepapred."
None of them had to be told to arrive on the hour sharp. It would be a damper on any parties that the Gamemakers might have been planning, but Minerva wasn't like the Head Gamemaker the year prior. To appear prepared would also mean showing up with concise thoughts on each tribute.
The arena would have slight tailoring performed over the next few days. Talents shown in training would be considered to finalize the pool of weapons and supplies at the cornucopia. What supplies would be limited? What weapons would be added? What would be taken away completely? Traps, likewise, would be altered. Mutts would be shifted around to be at various locations. Everything was based around the tributes to guarantee the most spectacle - the way it was supposed to.
"As part of your training, you'll be expected to deliver a full report tomorrow about the tributes' weaknesses and strengths."
Dolusa turned to find Minerva watching him. Her golden eyes were artificial, of course, but they somehow looked natural on her. It just made them more unnerving.
The other Gamemakers were talking amongst themselves. They drifted towards the elevator like a purple cloud, half-eaten plates of food and empty glasses left behind.
"I look forward to it," Dolusa said. And it was true
"They hadn't wanted to have a junior member this year," Minerva said. "But I insisted on it."
Dolusa's brows rose. "I didn't know."
"You were too promising for us to turn away."
"I'm honored to hear it. It's a privilege to train under you."
She smiled at him. It wasn't warm, but then again Minerva was never affection towards anyone. She was pragmatic, and that was it.
"Depending on your performance throughout these Games, you could be considered for a permanent position."
Neither of them had to acknowledge that permanent came with some fine print when it came to the Gamemakers. Nothing in Panem was permanent, not really, except President Snow it seemed. The Gamemakers were among the highest echelons of Capitol society, but it also came with among the greatest risk.
"Of course, your family connections may have some opposition. But acumen can make up for some lack of familial propriety."
Dolusa returned her smile. "I have no greater loyalty than to serving Panem."
"Be prepared tomorrow," Minerva said. And with that she walked towards the rest of the Gamemakers waiting on the elevator.
Dolusa took his time walking over and waiting among them. But even as they each took turns getting into the elevator two at a time, he found his gaze wandering back into the gymnasium, to watch as the Avoxes finished their cleaning. As he got on the elevator and left the Training Center, pulling off his robes and stuffing them away, he waited for the wave of the heated night to bring him back to attention.
Outside, the Capitol sparkled.
It always shone this brightly. But during the Games, it seemed even more brilliant. There was an vibrant energy flowing through it, a liveliness, something energizing. It made the buildings look more grand and all the crowds talk louder. Laughter bubbled from those walking along the streets, and people cheered on balconies at parties.
It was the baying for blood, Dolusa supposed. He'd realized it long ago, but it still always surprised him.
And beneath the city, Avoxes were in the tunnels, allowing the city to keep running. All the electricity, all the burning coal, all the streets that were cleaned in the middle of the night - it was all the work of those silent people who lived to serve.
One day, Dolusa would free his sister, and take her back into the sun.
His parents weren't around to see it happen, but he'd promised them, and had promised her too.
Dolusa would never hear her voice again, but he could rend the word Avox from her. Then he would kill Minerva. Maybe not this year, maybe not the next. But as he walked through the Capitol, purple robe hidden in his bag, he blended into the crowds again.
One day, Dolusa would watch the Gamemakers topple. And he planned to be at the center of it.
Well it's been a bit.
I last updated this story in June, and now it's December 28th.
I have everyone has been enjoying the holiday season if you celebrate, and are looking forward to the new year. 2025 really feels futuristic. This year has kind of kicked me in the face the whole time, but I do apologize for not updating. I do plan to continue this story and really want to keep publishing chapters. I won't make any promises on the next date for a chapter, but I do hope I'll get a chapter out sooner than last time.
If you read this chapter or the last couple, feel free to leave a review and let me know your thoughts!
Until next time.
~ Meghan