xvi. nascence
✦ ✧ ✦
coming into existence for the first time
sabine kasabova
eighteen / / district four
—
Already, after barely an hour, things seem to be going well.
The main car of the train, or the "party car" as Calsin referred to it, is crowded with over a dozen people — the most Sabine's been in the presence of in practically her whole life. Even if they're cracking jokes with one another and laughing about things she doesn't know the context to (seriously, "white whale" is a strange punchline), she seems to be the main focus.
Well, her and Adina, who isn't that bad herself. Sabine never had too strong of an opinion on her partner, but the rumors that she's a "playboy" and a bit of a menace were enough to keep her away. What she doesn't get is why, despite these rumors, people flocked to Adina like birds.
"Why don't we know each other?" She asks, while she and Sabine are in the center of the car with everybody staring. "I feel like I knew everyone at the CRAP, but not you."
"I tended to keep to myself," Sabine says. It's not a complete lie, at least.
Adina looks her in the eye, her gaze strong. "You gonna do that in the Capitol?"
"Huh?"
"Keep to yourself," the other girl clarifies with a laugh. "You know, six months is a long time. I think I'm going to get to know everybody."
Something about the way Adina talks makes Sabine think she's up to no good. At the same time, she's not sure she can stay away. "I'll do the same then," she says, but already it sounds a bit unwise. Seven new friends in the form of the other trained kids is already going to be overwhelming. Twenty-five? Oh, she can forget about it.
(Not to mention, at the end of the six months, whether Sabine likes it or not, the other kids are going to become her enemies. Whatever relationships she forges are doomed to crash and burn, one way or the other, if she wants to properly avenge her friends from home.
That doesn't mean it won't hurt to at least try with them beforehand.)
"Alright," Calsin proclaims, standing next to Sabine and Adina. "I'm going to need everybody here to shut the fuck up, so I can introduce our two new friends."
"You shut the fuck up," another voice calls back. Sabine thinks it's Robin, Calsin's nephew. "They can introduce themselves."
Calsin sticks up his middle finger, then gives the girls a calming look. "Well then, the floor is yours."
The room falls dead silent and Sabine quickly realizes that all eyes are on her, for probably the first time in her entire life. This is something she's going to have to get used to, huh?
"Um, well," she starts. "My name is Sabine, people say I'm too cold, and it's um… ice to meet you all."
It earns her a loud cackle from Nim. "Guys, do you get the joke?"
"Of course I do," Calsin playfully sneers. "Sabine, since you'll be working with me, I demand you tell another joke to the people."
"Wait?" Adina snaps, her brows furrowing. "She's working with you?"
"Have a problem with it?"
"N-no." Her face deflates, a heavy contrast from her previous bravado.
Sabine can't tell if Adina's being judgemental or not, but honestly, being mentored by Calsin sounds like a dream. After all, they call him the B.O.A.T (that's best of all time) for a reason. In fact, she sort of expected that Calsin would want to mentor Adina and not her. This is a good sign. This is a really good sign.
"Gee, it's awfully difficult when you put me on the spot," Sabine teases. "But, let's try this one. How do you spot a nosy pepper?"
"No clue," Calsin says with a snicker. "Anybody have any idea?"
The rest of the crowd shake their heads.
"Why don't you tell us, Sabine."
She smiles. "It gets jalapeño business."
Everybody cackles, save for Adina who just lightly giggles. She's going to be a tough nut to crack, huh? Sabine is unsure whether or not she should worry about her. After all, she did seem incredibly friendly just a few minutes ago. Clearly, not working with Calsin has struck a nerve with her.
"Thank you for that," he says, offering his hand for Sabine to shake. Once she does, he gestures to Adina and says, "You'll be working with Robin, but it's still me telling you to introduce yourself right now."
"Right." Adina presses her lips firmly into a line. "Well, I'm Adina of the famous Ofek family. You may have heard of my ancestors for their various accomplishments."
Calsin just sort of stares at her strangely, and Sabine does the same. Maybe she hasn't brushed up on her history enough, but the only famous District Four family she's heard of is obviously the Verrillo clan, and then the infamous Lotuses from many many years ago, but that was technically only one person.
Wanting to be friendly, however, Sabine quickly flashes a smile. "Wait, really? I knew your last name was Ofek, obviously, but I didn't really think you were one of the Ofeks."
"Sure am,"Adina hmmphs, putting a hand on her hip. "So, as you can imagine, I'm absolutely thrilled to be in everybody's presence today."
"We're glad to have you here," Calsin says. "Alright, I'm going to go have my first one-on-one chat with my mentee, and Robby, you should do the same. Everybody, disperse!"
He doesn't give Sabine a chance to move, lightly tugging her by the wrist so she follows him into another, smaller car, with just a few cushioned blue chairs. "Take a seat." He gestures, and Sabine does exactly that. Once the door shuts behind him, a devious smile flashes on his face. "You have no idea who the Ofeks are either, right?"
Hesitantly, Sabine nods, while Calsin takes the chair beside her. "Is that a bad thing?" she finally asks.
"Not at all. It just confirms that I made the right decision choosing you to be my final mentee." He shakes his head. "The last thing I need is somebody so obsessed with legacy."
"Wasn't that Robin and Venus when you mentored them?"
"I never said I wasn't a hypocrite." Calsin cackles. "Besides, Robin cared more about his now ex-girlfriend, and Venus just wanted to piss Robin off by killing more people than they did."
"You're funny," Sabine says.
"Don't tell the rest of my family you think that, or you'll never hear the end of it."
Yeah, this is going to be good. This is going to be really really good. Already, Sabine feels like she belongs.
asphodel zegota
seventeen / / district nine
—
They have absolutely no clue what in the world is happening.
First, Asphodel was just hanging out with the fam on a nice winter morning, then, they were told to sit down at some ceremony. Somebody called his name, so he went onstage, and then, he hung out with the fam again and they gave him an edible, and now he's on… what did they say it was called again… a train?
It hardly makes any sense. Asphodel's sitting down, but he feels like he's moving a million miles an hour, and not just because of the shrooms. Everything's even more colorful than usual, save for the boy sat across from him, who's almost entirely black and white in Asphodel's mind.
"Do you know what's happening to us?" They ask, eyes wide and eager. "I forgot what your name is, by the way. I'm Popo, but you can, and should call me Asphodel."
"Shiloh," the boy says, voice quiet. "We were reaped for the Hunger Games, remember?"
"No," Asphodel cackles. "I'm not hungry, but thank you for asking."
Shiloh sighs, then leans back in his chair. Asphodel doesn't get why he's so shy — usually, weed makes them super hype. He does know, however, that some people get all tired from weed. That, or Shiloh's not on any weed, which would be super crazy. How do the non-stoners do it?
Now that Asphodel thinks about it, actually, they don't think they've ever met somebody over the age of fourteen — assuming Shiloh is — who didn't like getting high all the time. Then again, he hasn't really met the most diverse bunch of people in general. He supposes that's what this "train" ride is for, though, going somewhere else and meeting new people.
Honestly, Asphodel would rather not. He has everything he needs, everything he wants back with the fam. Wow does he wish he could go back to empty blue skies and rolling fields of green. Somehow though, he doesn't think he has a choice.
A few minutes pass, or it could be seconds, or even hours, for all Asphodel knows — he doesn't have a particularly keen sense of time at the moment, or ever, and Shiloh tries to talk to him again. "What do you think it's going to be like in the Capitol?"
"People keep mentioning that place," Asphodel notes. "I don't have any idea what they're talking about."
"That's okay," Shiloh says. "I don't know that much about it either."
"The Capitol is great," somebody loudly interrupts. Asphodel turns his head to see that it's Goldeen, one of the three other people on this "train" besides him and Shiloh. She previously told him that she's his "mentor," not that he knows what that means. She seems chill though, her long hair matching the color of her name and a relaxed smile on her face. "You're really so lucky you get to spend half a year there — you really picked the best year to get reaped."
"Half a year?" Asphodel twitches. Has somebody told that to them before? This is, at least, the first time that it's really sinking in. Half a year is… well… six months. "What happens after that?"
"He's really testing my patience," Goldeen tells the man next to her, Xavian, who's supposed to "mentor" Shiloh. "Honestly, I know five to seven year olds with better awareness of the world."
"Sorry," Asphodel blurts out. "I'm not trying to inconvenience you or anything, I just don't know what's happening."
"They get that," Shiloh deadpans. "I think they just don't know how to tell you everything that you need to know."
"Well then." They climb out of their seat, walking closer to Shiloh even if the "train" floor jerks around underneath them. "Would you be willing to tell me? I think you'll be a much better explainer than them."
Shiloh takes a deep breath. "Honestly, I'm not sure what to expect either. My mother always warned me that life outside of Nine was a force to be reckoned with." There's something about his voice that's discomforting, almost like he's been haunted — scary.
"I didn't even know places outside of Nine existed," Asphodel calmly admits. "At least, not until recently. I've at least figured that much out now."
"It must be nice. Not having to be afraid of everything around you that you can't control."
"You don't have to be afraid," they say, earnestly. "I believe that what you can't see won't hurt you. Yes, even if we're going "away" now, it doesn't mean that we're going to see every single scary thing in the whole world."
"We might as well be." Shiloh's voice quivers.
"Dude!" Xavian shouts. "I already told you that you don't have to worry about anything for the next six months."
"What happens after that?" Asphodel cautiously whispers. "All I've gathered is that we're going to be somewhere for six months. Then what?"
"We fight, and whoever wins gets to go home."
"What about the people who don't win?" A new sensation begins to fill Asphodel from the tips of their toes all the way up to the top of their head, something they've never needed to feel before— fear.
Shiloh takes a breath. "They die."
"What?" Asphodel nearly screeches, flopping backward in their chair. "If we don't win the fight we die?"
"I'm afraid so." Shiloh solemnly shakes his head.
Asphodel doesn't think he's ever had to deal with somebody dying before, at least not somebody his age. A few years ago, his Granny did pass away, but because she was old and everybody said that it was her time. As little as Asphodel may know, just in general, he knows that now is not his time.
"Can I ask you something, then?"
"Sure," the other boy says, a smile on his face that Asphodel's never seen before.
"If everything you're saying is true, would you mind being my friend?" It seems silly to ask, especially when Asphodel has previously thought that everybody was his friend, but they ask anyway. "If I have to die, I don't want it to be alone."
"Of course you're my friend." There's a strangeness in Shiloh's mouth when he says that, like he's never had a friend before. Luckily, Asphodel's had lots of friends, so they're full of experience and knowledge. "I'll count on you if you can count on me."
"That sounds great," he says, unable to keep a smile off their face.
millicent kana
eighteen / / district ten
—
There's a small, small part of her that doesn't entirely hate this.
That part, is of course, the part of Millicent that knows that regardless of what happens, she'll never have to see Quinten Cammar's face again. It's almost enough to make her smile as she sits on a couch, traveling at the speed of sound to what will most-likely be her demise.
It's been a quiet affair for the most part — they injected Song-yi with tranquilizers after the incident with her on stage, not enough to knock her out, but enough to make her seem more relaxed, even though Millicent reckons it'll be hard for her to stay calm in handcuffs. Besides her, there's also Remington and Gustav, their mentors, who Millicent quickly learned are just rich young Capitolites who have been assigned to work with them as a reward for good grades in school.
There's also Tora, the escort, who hasn't made much of an attempt to talk to either her or Song-yi, at least, not until now.
It walks into the center of the car, a sly expression on its entirely-painted-white face. "Tributes, mentors, I have a special announcement about the nature of this year's Quell."
Millicent sighs. What could possibly be added to the idea of six months in the Capitol? Maybe "added" isn't the right word, but whatever. She's already so deeply sick of this, no matter how much better it'll be than Quinten's farm.
Remington and Gustav exchange panicked glances before the former asks, "What are you talking about?"
"Did they not tell you?" Tora asks, earnestly. Both mentors shake their heads. "Ah, well it would appear that we're all finding out together then, how lovely."
Millicent stares at Song-yi, wondering if she's going to make some sort of rude remark, but she doesn't. In that case, Millicent doesn't feel the need to do so either. She already feels like her and her partner have this somewhat silent pact — they're both prematurely tired of all the bullshit, so they're going to do their best to not engage with any of it.
(After all, no matter how much Millicent can try to fight it, this is going to end with her six-feet under without anybody to mourn her, not even her aunt, Mikalla.)
(Millicent honestly thought she'd at least visit in the Justice Building, but it seemed that she couldn't be bothered. Being there alone was a pathetic sight, but the Peacekeepers insisted she wait the whole twenty-minute period "in case somebody showed up." That just made things exponentially worse.)
Tora fiddles with a few buttons on the side of the television screen making some official Capitol seal appear. It fades to two men, one with long blonde hair and the other with short brown hair. Based on the eager expressions worn on Tora, Remington, and Gustav's faces, Millicent takes it that she's supposed to know who these people are.
Luckily, the blonde one introduces himself as Karystos Vane and says the brunette is Ulesi Mahamatra. They're apparently the Head Gamemakers, which means they're in charge of the slaughter-fest Millicent's soon to die in. Lucky her.
Karystos goes on some long boring speech while Ulesi sternly nods — Millicent hardly picks out any of the words either of them are saying until Tora snaps, "Song-yi, Millicent, pay attention."
"Suck my dick," Song-yi whispers, which earns a laugh from Millicent.
"I am now pleased to announce to you, Tributes, what makes participating in this year's Quell so extra special," Karystos starts, his tone way too upbeat for somebody talking about the Hunger Games, though that's probably par for the Capitolite course. "Instead of spending six months doing nothing but boring training, we are going to be moving all twenty-six of you into a wondrous city where anything can happen. You'll have a chance to forge a real reputation for yourselves, and make life-lasting bonds with your fellow Tributes, all while being watched by almost two-thousand cutting-edge cameras, like Reality TV."
"Just kill me now," Millicent says. Based on everybody's stunned reactions, this is probably the loudest she's been all afternoon.
"Sorry?" Gustav glares at her. "I think this is a cause for celebration, actually!"
"Sure is," Tora exclaims. "This is going to be the best Hunger Games ever!"
Sounds like bullshit if Millicent's ever heard it. As much as she doesn't want to die, there's no getting around the fact that she will, and she'd rather not engage in bullshit beforehand. At least training would let her disassociate before her certain death, now she's supposed to entertain people?
Millicent's perfectly fine with her reputation as a reclusive freak who believes there's no real purpose in being alive, but nobody needs to see that. Fuck's sake, she gets that the world has some unfair vendetta against her, and that's why everything is so agonizing for her in particular, but she was at least hoping the last stage of her life before she died would be somewhat peaceful.
How dare she even make such an assumption, huh?
"Now, our camera work is just about to begin!" Tora continues. The bigger it smiles, the more Millicent wishes she had the strength to punch it in the face.
"Are we on camera now?" Song-yi sneers.
It shakes its head. "Not yet, but I'm going to gather you and Millicent for some exclusive interviews that will give the Capitol a closer look at what they can expect from you in the coming months."
Song-yi laughs, hollow and mocking with a wolfish grin."You think I'm participating in that? That's honestly really cute."
There's a small, strange part of Millicent that envies Song-yi a smidge. She's never been brave enough to speak out that way. Otherwise, Quinten would've somehow figured out a way to put a bullet in her head. She doesn't think she's going to shift into some incredibly outspoken person either, now that she has the chance to.
It's just nice to have somebody on the same page as her, even without directly discussing it. A part of her wonders, will there be some form of silent camaraderie amongst everyone once they get to the Capitol, a strong force preventing everyone from engaging in acts of bullshit purely for their entertainment?
Millicent certainly hopes so.
girmyr schutzhund
eighteen / / district two
—
The whole "Reality TV" thing sort of puts a wrench in things. For starters, Gir had no idea what those two words meant when pushed together until Tits the escort explained it. Even though she's not the biggest television-watcher in general, Gir doesn't get why people would want to watch people living out their normal lives when they could watch made-up things in made-up places.
Like talking dogs, for example. Surely there's a show about that — if there isn't, Gir might have to become a TV writer once she's out of here. The main character would of course be based off Sir-Bites-A-Lot, and he'd go on all sorts of pawsome adventures.
Gosh, it's kind of hard for Gir to focus without him around. It didn't fully dawn on her until her interview with Tits, but she really isn't going to see him for half a year, huh? They're basically attached at the hip at this point — it feels wrong to be without him for so long.
(Sir's the only one who didn't judge Gir after they tag-teamed her parents. So many other people still didn't believe that she had what it took to be honest and loyal towards Two, and some even called her crazy for obeying her orders and killing them. Why can't people make up their mind about what it is that she's doing wrong?
If Sir were here, he'd have the answer to this question in the form of lying flat on his back and begging Gir for belly rubs.)
"We should check out the other Tributes," Enobaria, Gir's new mentor and the perfect embodiment of what it means to be from District Two, suggests while the two of them, Vito, Raptor, and Tyrian all sit in a circle. "Or at least, who we'll be meeting tonight."
Even though Enobaria is more of a cat person than a dog person, Gir still thinks she's the coolest ever! Killing people using her teeth is just incredible — she could watch those clips for days and still want more.
"Sounds like a good idea," Tyrian responds, as if Enobaria was specifically talking to him.
Even though Gir's known they'd be partners for two weeks, she's still not sure what she's supposed to make of Tyrian. He has a chip on his shoulder — that much is certain. He called out for his sister at the reaping ceremony with intense and unmistakable desperation. She hasn't ever heard anything bad about him, just that the girl he's dating's mother is allegedly just as terrible as Gir's ex-parents.
She'll have to learn a lot more about him in the next six months. He seems like he could use a friend around here and, well, so could Gir.
"Works for me," she says, desperate to pitch into the conversation. "Let's watch for sure!"
"Raptor," Vito speaks to the newest victor in a tone that's incredibly stern, almost like Raptor's a dog and Vito has him on a leash. Yay dogs! "Could you turn on the reaping recaps, please?"
He spaces out for a second, then violently shakes himself back to life. "Yes, absolutely."
Stiffly, like a robot, Raptor ambles to the screen, hits a few buttons, then sits back down. President Hirohito is giving a talk, her wife by her side, but Vito presses a button on his remote control that fast-forwards through that until they reach One's reaping.
"She's going to be a force to reckon with," Enobaria comments as the girl, Odette Celestine, takes the stage with such a regal disposition on her face. "I diagnose her with typical District One mean girl."
"Seems fair." Vito nods. "You know, I think the last one of those this country's had in the games was—"
"I don't care about your boyfriend."
"I wasn't even talking about Jules."
"Still don't care."
Rude, but Gir also likes Enobaria's spirit. She is right, Odette looks like she could be mean. Gir's still going to give her a chance though — it's only fair.
Tyrian can't help but awkwardly snicker when Lavish takes the stage with dancing and instruments. Gir laughs with him before asking, "Tyrian, do you think we should take him seriously?"
"Why are you asking me?" He squints, no longer laughing. Instead, he appears just as serious as usual.
"Dunno." Gir playfully shrugs. "I'm just trying to make friendly chatter."
"He's either the most qualified trained kid here, or totally unprepared," Vito says. "It's usually one or the other with Ones."
"They've been more prepared as of late," Raptor warns. Or at least, Gir thinks it's a warning. "You can't count him out."
Good thing she wasn't planning on it!
Enobaria does Gir and Tyrian the incredible favor of skipping through their own reaping, probably to save time, then presses play again for District Three. The girl, Claris, is already somebody that Gir thinks she could get along with — she seems friendly and a lot more human than Odette and Lavish. Her eyes sparkle with what Gir would assume is joy and laughter, and they almost make her seem like a cute little puppy.
"Dibs on making her my friend," Gir declares, not sure what possessed her to say such a thing. "She's the most normal one so far, I think."
"Yeah," Enobaria says with a sigh. "It does seem that Three's put an end to the past two years of genuinely psychopathic girls."
"Took them long enough to realize that's probably for the better," Raptor interjects, his voice a bit weak. "They're supposed to be the smart district, right?"
Vito laughs, but it feels forced. "Well, their psychopath won two years ago, so they probably thought they could go two in a row."
"I put an end to that, huh?"
"You sure did, buddy."
"What do you think?" Gir asks Tyrian. "Not just about Claris, but about Lavish, Odette, and well… everything so far."
"It's going to be a long six months," he admits. "If anything, I'm just glad I have somebody from home. I was a bit worried when I found out you were from Springridge, but you seem normal enough, not like…" He subtly gestures toward Raptor. "You know, him and his freaky friend."
"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" Gir asks, eyes wide.
"I would, yeah."
"Great!"
"I look forward to working with you," Tyrian says, deeply earnest.
"I look forward to working with you too."
andromeda vivaldi
eighteen / / district five
—
It took them long enough to figure it out, but they finally did.
"You work at the Serpent's Spine, huh?" Andi asks Balor, who is laying across from them on the floor, eyes wide while he stares at the ceiling. "You're a bouncer."
Balor simply grunts. Fucks sake, they're really no fun at all. Andi's been trying to get them to say something, anything, for at least an hour now, but no such luck.
"Okay then," they say. "Go and ignore me. While you're at it, ignore everybody for the next six months, and then be the first person to die in the bloodbath. If you're lucky, the person who kills you won't break that arm of yours again."
Honestly, Andi couldn't care less about being reaped. Maybe it's because the idea that they could die hasn't quite sunk in yet, but they're actually looking forward to the next six months where they can be themself and not the black sheep of their family. It might even be fun — Andi can't remember the last time they could truly say they were having fun.
Yeah, nights with Persi out in town are exciting and all of that, but there was always the sinking feeling in their chest that everything was going to end in the morning. Now, Andi doesn't have to worry for another two-to-three months.
(And by then, hopefully they'll have a guard dog to take care of that stress for them.)
Balor ignores them, yet again, which means that it's time for Andi to change tactics. Clearly, this freak doesn't want to talk about themself, but they do actually share something in common, now that they think about it.
"How'd you learn to play the violin?"
As predicted, this does get Balor's attention. He flops his head to the side an entire one hundred and eighty degrees so they're making eye contact with Andi in their chair. "How do you know that?"
"Woah, so you can talk." Andi smirks. "I honestly didn't believe the rumors."
"How do you know about the violin?" Balor furrows his brows, their cheeks starting to turn bright red.
"Anita told me."
"Oh." He deeply exhales, his face returning to its pasty, pale state. "I, um… I took lessons as a kid."
Huh. "So did I," Andi says. "Where'd you go?"
"Some lady named Cadenza."
"You're shitting me." Their stomach drops. "I also was in her classes."
"How exciting," Balor replies, in a tone that indicates he does not at all find this exciting. It's kind of funny though — maybe Andi can work with this. "I dropped out though. After my step-mother left."
"What about your real mom?"
"She died."
"Oh." Is it bad that Andi's a bit jealous? Their life would be so much easier if they had a dead mom. "Sorry for your loss."
"Don't apologize," he growls. "You didn't kill her."
"You don't know that." Andi whistles.
"She died giving birth to me, so yeah, I do."
"Thrilling."
"Right." Balor pauses, but only for a second so they can sit upright in a chair as opposed to being flopped over like a dead fish on the ground. Pity — he was almost cute like that, in a pathetic way. "What are you trying to accomplish here, Andromeda—"
"It's Andi," they scoff. "Call me that one more time and I'll cut your dick off."
He stops for a second, almost like he's genuinely considering it. "I'd rather you didn't."
"I've never been good with promises, Balls."
"Call me that one more time and—" He pouts, clearly stumped. "You'll regret it, okay?"
"I'd suggest you threaten to punch me, but I take it you don't want to break the other arm." Andi tilts their head to the side, batting their eyes. "Unless you're into that, of course."
"I didn't mean to break my arm," is his best argument.
"I'd hope not, you little freak." Andi has to physically restrain themself from laughing. "How'd it happen though?"
They've gathered it happened some time between when the Peacekeepers had to bust down the door to his house and when they got on the train, because he didn't have a cast beforehand. Then again, Andi wouldn't put it past this man to have a broken arm and not realize for several weeks.
"It's a bit personal," Balor says, shame suddenly washing over them.
"Okay." Andi doesn't particularly give a fuck. "Can I be the first person to sign your cast then?"
He slowly blinks. "Huh?"
"It'll be fun. A good showcase of district partner bondage — I mean bonding." They get out of their seat, in search of a marker. Blessedly, Andi finds one without having to go in the car where Anita and Journey are doing lord-knows-what. "Hold out your arm, Balls."
"I already said not to call me that," he sneers while obeying.
Andi snickers, then writes their name on the cast with four giant block letters. "There. Look at that."
Balor gives it a once over. "I hate it."
"Shouldn't have broken your wrist then." They shrug, heading back to their seat. "So, Balor — don't get used to me calling you that — you want allies in this whole thing?"
"You just referred to me the same way you refer to testicles in two separate instances, and now you're asking me if I want to ally with you?" He's clearly exhausted, not just of Andi, but of this conversation in general. Their eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like the sort of raccoon Andi would find in a ditch with his eyebags.
"Hold your horses." Andi rolls their eyes. "I was just asking if you want allies in general."
"It'd depend on who's asking."
They know what they're supposed to do next, ask Balor all formally, and then the two of them can ride off into the sunset, or something like that. Too bad Andi's been having too much fun playing with him to do such a thing.
Yeah, they think they're going to have to be in this for the long con. There's just something about him that Andi wants to step on over and over again, until he's just a small brown stain on the carpet.
They'd be an idiot to give into the idea of pleasantries so easily.
"I'm not," Andi replies, a wild look in their eyes.
"Well then, I guess I won't have allies."
"Yeah. I guess you won't, Balls. I guess you won't."
doverina polveri
sixteen / / district eight
—
She's already wasted too much time feeling sorry for herself.
Her time in the Justice Building was a blur — Henley and Elaine were kind enough to bid her a temporary farewell, but the real kicker was when her biological family had the audacity to show up.
("Why now?" Dove had screamed at her father — no, Ryker. "You had years to try and rescue me. Years!"
"I'm sorry, Doverina," he replied, hardly any upset in his eyes. "Seeing you would've put our lives in danger. We were given proof you were alive, and that was enough."
"What do you mean it was enough? For you, maybe, but not me."
She would've been fine if her biological family left the building after those brief words, but of course they didn't. Instead, they introduced her to Lucett — Dove's sister born two years after she was taken hostage. Her replacement in her parents eyes.
Whatever happens, she'll find a way to show them just how badly they fucked up when they decided to leave her to rot.)
Before she could fully process that, Urethra shoved a camera in her face and demanded she speak to the people who will inevitably want her dead. Dove did her best to seem cordial, kind even, but deep down, she's never been so enraged.
Even now, sitting alongside the Cordura Faux, the only person to ever make it out of Tattersall's filth and grime, Dove's still fuming. Her face is red hot, and if it were possible for her to emit smoke from her nose like a mechanical bull, she reckons she would be.
But again, feeling this way is a waste of time. Even though, to some, six months may feel like all the time in the world, Dove needs to savor each and every second. That's how she'll come out of this in one piece, because damn it she will.
She finally summons the courage to ask Cordura, "How'd you do it?"
"Do what?" The victor squints. "Win?"
"Not just that." Dove nods. "How did you make them worship you?"
"Sex appeal." Cordura tucks a strand of her short platinum-blonde hair behind her ear. "But, I'm not going to recommend that for you because you're still a kid. Instead, I'll tell you this — it's important that you memorize the art of a lie."
"Meaning?"
"I know everybody tells kids these days that it's important that they 'be themselves,' but that's not the case here." Lucky for Cordura, Dove already has no idea who she is. "You need to parade yourself as a mysterious figure — somebody who can't be bought, but is worth more than a thousand pounds of diamonds. You need to be exactly who the Capitol expects you to be, but at the same time also be the complete opposite of that."
"How am I supposed to do that?" Dove creases her eyebrows. She's played several roles throughout the past few years, the Harlaw's illegitimate daughter, a scrappy robber, a machiavellian investigator that chews people up and spits them and their lies out on the ground. But, those roles were to appease the Harlaws, not an entire country.
"It's easy," Cordura says, fire in her eyes. "Find somebody to align yourself with, falsely promise that you'll take them to the stars by your side, and then use that partnership to generate intrigue. After that, show everyone why you're the more interesting person in that grouping, force them to pay attention to you, but don't give them everything they want to know."
She can't help but feel like Cordura's lying, even now. Dove watched her with her allies, witnessed the way they became something of a family in just a few week's time. Was she really using them?
Dove neatly folds her hands in her lap. "You speak in riddles."
"So I've been told." The victor snickers. "Let me say it more simply, what you need to do is gaslight, gatekeep, and girlboss."
"Okay yes. That, I understand." A pause, and then Dove finds it inside her to ask something else. "Are you going to tell Cora the exact same things?"
"Depends when she wakes up," Cordura answers coyly. "Honestly, I'm not sure what I'll tell her. I can't say I'm her biggest fan so far — she really shouldn't be wasting her time like this, but first impressions can occasionally be wrong."
"What's your first impression of me?"
The victor smirks. "If I'm being honest, I see a smidge of my younger self in you. You're hungry, aren't you? You want more."
"Well, who doesn't?" Dove shrugs. "This is District Eight we're talking about — am I supposed to just sit down and be satisfied? Why would I do that when all the opportunities you've had could very well be just six months ahead of me?" Maybe if she says that to herself enough times, Dove will actually believe it. "I'm not here to die."
"I'm glad you already think that." Cordura stands up and flattens out the creases on her pants from sitting. "Now, what do you say we go wake up your partner?"
"I thought you said you're not a fan of hers."
"At the current moment, yes. Later? Who knows." Slowly, she walks toward the door. Unable to do anything else, Dove follows. "Besides, don't you want an ally?"
"You basically told me to betray my allies," Dove says. "Why are you telling me to ally with your other mentee in that case?"
"I didn't say betray them," Cordura corrects. "I said make yourself seem the most important."
She opens the door to the next cart, where Cora is still passed out on a long couch. Gingerly, Cordura taps her shoulder. When she doesn't budge, the victor loudly sighs. "C'mon Dove. Maybe you should wake her up."
Dove doesn't think she has any choice but to oblige. She's not as gentle as Cordura — she basically slaps Cora's shoulder.
Being forceful, at least, seems to have worked in her favor. Even if it's not very pleasantly, Cora snaps awake, a feral hiss escaping her mouth.
"Good evening to you too," Cordura singsongs. "Would you like to learn about how to win the Hunger Games?"
"So tired," Cora mumbles.
"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to sleep in the Capitol," Dove says, her voice strong. "Besides, I think you'll be very interested in the proposal Cordura's going to make for you."
lavish tarro
eighteen / / district one
—
What luck! The Quell's additional twist seems to have been made perfect, just for him!
It's been a few hours since Harli announced that he'd get to be a real TV star, and Lavish is still pinching himself in case this is a dream. Considering he just accidentally drew blood from pinching himself too hard, he's inclined to say this is reality.
And now he's made a complete fool of himself, in front of Odette, no less. Awesome job!
"Why are you bleeding?" she sneers. They've been sitting across one another at the snack table, while their mentors, Helios and Florence, babble on about lord-only-knows, even though the snacks are long gone, now permanent victims to the abyss that is Lavish's stomach. Eh, they were actually very unexciting snacks — just pigs in blankets, a fruit salad, chocolate covered popcorn, tiramisu, and a single slice of cheese for some odd reason.
"Why are you judging me?" Lavish scoffs back at Odette, who just rolls her eyes.
Honestly, she has a lot of nerve trying to harass him when he knows her big secret — she isn't as rich as she says she is. In fact, she isn't rich at all! Lavish's Father gave him a list of all of his classmates at Valhalla and what their parents do, for networking purposes, and there were big red letters next to Giselle Celestine's name that said "Assistant Jewelry Shop Employee."
"I'm not judging you," Odette says, in a tone that is very judgmental, "I'm just pointing out that you're bleeding."
"Oh yeah?" Lavish jeers. "Well, that's because I was pinching myself about how well suited this twist is to my expertise! I thought I was dreaming, but I was in fact not! I just needed to verify."
His volume catches Helios' attention, and the man shakes his head. "Lavish, what are you going on about?"
"Strategy."
"You were already thinking about strategy." Helios gives Lavish a look that says he doesn't believe him for a second. "Fine by me. Let's talk about it all together."
Talk strategy? With Odette? Why on earth would Lavish do that? "Helios, if it's alright, I'd like to keep this conversation to the two of us," he says, gravely seriously. "I don't want Odette to get any ideas." At Valhalla, you're taught that everybody is an enemy, after all. Who's to say she's not already plotting his demise?
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she deadpans. "Honestly, Lavish. We're going to be stuck together for six months — do you want to just pretend we have a surface level of fondness for one another?"
"Like fake-dating?" Lavish vaguely remembers that trope from a few movies he watched.
"Not dating." Odette shakes her head in disgust. "Fake friends. We pretend we've known each other for ages, and One is painted in a positive light. Aside from the recap, we don't know what the other trained kids will be like. However, I plan on leading, and I would like to have somebody on my side."
"What would be his benefit?" Helios asks, stealing the question right from Lavish's mouth. It's not like he even wanted to be the leader of the pack — that sounds like way too much work — so in what way would being nice to Odette do him any good?
"Look at yourself," she says, a sinister smile growing on her face. "Do you really think any of the other trained kids are going to want to work with you? You're annoying, weak, and pathetic. Stick with me, and I won't let them push you around."
"Why are you assuming they're going to hate me?"
Even if he'd never admit it out loud, Odette's words actually sting. Lavish has gone his whole life being told he's those things, and he honestly doesn't think it's true. He cut through his opponents better than everybody else at Valhalla, fair and square — like, honestly, he didn't cheat or take advantage of anybody in the selection tournament. Ugh, he's way too rich to have imposter syndrome!
(Not rich anymore, he has to remind himself. Father said Lavish is no longer his son, and Lavish thinks he actually meant it. He spent his entire life so far kissing up to him, and this is the thanks he gets for having his own ambitions?)
(Lavish reckons he'd be a bit less upset if his father didn't have the gall to go to his goodbyes and tell him to network in the Capitol. Even if what could be (but won't be) their final moments, all Modish Tarro cares about is himself and his company.)
(No wonder Mother left. No wonder she didn't take Lavish when he looks exactly like the worst man in the world.)
"The trained kids actually don't seem very judgmental this year," Helios says. "Tyrian looked stoic for sure, but I think the only bad apple we have to worry about is Leda. Something about them really rubs me the wrong way."
"Fair enough," Odette says. "They walk like they have a stick up their ass, for crying out loud."
"I actually didn't think they seemed too terrible." If anything, their posture and steely demeanor reminded Lavish of Gliss. On second thought, maybe that's a bad thing.
"Okay, well, can you at least pretend we get along at dinner in a few hours?" Odette asks. "Not just for my sake, but for One as a whole?"
"I still don't understand why I have to pretend to be your friend!"
Is it because… Odette's lonely, and she's worried nobody is going to like her in the Capitol? Honestly, Lavish would love if that was the case — it'd be instant karma for the way she's treating him!
"You don't," Helios says, his voice booming so loud it makes Lavish gulp and Odette just frown really aggressively. "Odette, I appreciate the initiative, but this isn't your territory. Lavish can do whatever he wants."
"Yeah, exactly!" He sticks out his tongue and blows a raspberry.
"You people are impossible," she mumbles to herself. "I think I'm going to take a nap."
She slides out of the booth and starts walking away.
"So, Lavish," Helios whispers. "What were you going to say about talking strategy?"
"Ah, I thought you'd never ask."
Yay! The kids are interacting with each other! Good for them.
I don't know what else to say, so life update time, I guess. I graduate university tomorrow. Also, I got a hit tweet with 180k likes this past week and got dogpilled by a bunch of angry cishet male Marvel fans because I joked that William Shakespeare wrote a quote that appeared in Wandavision.
Thank you Erik for beta-ing and thank you everyone else for continuing to read. See you next week with train rides part 2, featuring Seventh, Soran, Song-yi, Bex, Charlie, and Jalen. Yay!
Remember to give me Capitolites btw. And to vote in the poll on my profile bc there's only 8 votes at the moment.
Q: How deranged do you think I will become now that I don't have school to hold me back?
Linds. Laugh. Love.