The door at the edge of the room slides open and both tributes look round at it. Teetering in on impossible looking heeled shoes comes the escort, looking just as ridiculous as she had from afar. Her stark white face lights up at seeing the two, and she hurries over to them with a perky smile.
Embelia gets a better look at her outfit, and it still looks just as strange. Still just a lump of pale blue drapery. Even though it does compliment the dark tone of her skin, it looks like a heavy quilt thrown on and belted to her body. Maybe Embelia just doesn't understand fashion, but she really doesn't get it.
"Hello!" She greets eagerly, taking their hands and shaking them in turn. She does so a little too enthusiastically, nearly stumbling on her skinny little heels. "Congratulations to you both! My name is Narcisse, it's such a huge pleasure to meet you!"
Embelia stares blankly, confused by her words. Korren gives her a polite nod and opens his mouth to respond, but she continues.
"Please, sit, sit!" She encourages, moving to take a seat at a round table in the center of the car. She speaks with that Capitol accent Embelia's so rarely heard outside of Games season- though less intense. She wonders if there are poorer parts of the Capitol too, where people don't sound so fancy? "It's actually my first year, so we're both embarking on this exciting journey together!"
Already, despite her perkiness, and her awful clothes, and her perfume that smells too strongly of gardenias, Embelia likes this woman better than her predecessor. Before Narcisse their escort was a tall, pale man with no eyebrows, a horrific vocal fry that always made him sound bored and speak slowly, and teeth plated in gold- though from the distance Embelia usually stood they only looked yellow. She only knew they were gold at all because she'd been standing in the front row when she was 12, where she could just make out that it was gold.
She presumes that his perfume smelled as horrible as he looked, too. Bergamot, probably. Embelia hates the smell of bergamot.
Korren, very politely, pulls out a chair and offers it to Embelia. She looks at him with furrowed brows, but takes a seat with a muttered thank you. She glances at him, then at Narcisse, who's gushing at Korren's manners.
"You two are such an exciting pair to get on my first go! A handsome pair really gives me hope of a promotion next year! Just follow my lead, and I'll make the best of it for all of us!"
Of course. A pretty young pair makes an easy job to sell to the elite. The better they perform the more favour Narcisse gains from the Capitol.
Like animals in a circus, led by a clown.
Embelia's horrified, and judging by his silence, so is Korren. The train is silent for a moment, silent enough that the soft buzz of technology can be heard in the walls. Narcisse clears her throat, shifting in her seat. She opens her mouth, seeming to debate saying more, but deciding against it. She looks tense, a little awkward.
"I like your hair," Embelia says suddenly, surprising herself even. Korren turns his gaze to her, seeming shocked to hear her voice beyond a few syllables.
She means it, though. Narcisse's hair (almost certainly a wig) is pastel blue to match her garment, styled in intricate dreadlocks that sit piled up onto her head like a great blue crown. Embelia's seen dreadlocks before plenty, it's a manageable hairstyle and lots of people go for it in her neighbourhood. But Narcisse's are more intricate, shinier, and look like she'd have sat and had them done for quite a while if they weren't a wig. They're impractical and ridiculous, but they do look nice.
Narcisse lights up, placing a manicured hand on the precarious looking style. "Thank you, dear!" She gushes. "I'm thinking it'll be all the rage in a few months, so I'm trying to get the jump on it. You know, I've gotten nothing but confusion and rudeness since I arrived, so it's nice to hear some kind words."
"I can't imagine why," Korren says politely.
"Well aren't you too sweet," Narcisse coos. "You'll both do very nicely."
Quietly, the door to the cart slides open. From the opposite side of where Narcisse had entered, comes two people. Embelia recognises them immediately as two of her district's victors: Seeder and Chaff. They're the only two District 11 victors that remain- or the only two Embelia ever sees. She thinks there may be another who'd won in the early years but they're either too old - or perhaps even too dead - to mentor anymore. She doesn't know enough about the Games' history to be certain.
Narcisse perks up when she sees them enter, standing up and beckoning them over eagerly. Korren sits up straighter in his seat as they approach. Embelia follows his lead after a few seconds, catching a strong whiff of Chaff. He trails a few feet behind his companion, but already the unmistakable stench of alcohol fills her nose. His balance is already precarious, like he's been drinking from the moment he woke up. He probably has.
"Embelia, Korren, meet your mentors!" Narcisse says, vacating her seat for Seeder to take it. "Seeder and Chaff!"
Embelia nods to them, watching as they take their seats and Narcisse excuses herself, glancing back with an excited squeak before leaving. The doors close and the train, imperceptibly apart from the world beginning to move outside the windows, takes off.
She looks out the window as they begin to pass seemingly endless fields, wondering if this is the last she'll ever see of her home.
"I'm very sorry this happened to you," says Seeder, giving each of them a sympathetic smile. Her voice is soft and warm like honey. "But we're going to do our best to help you both through this. Have either of you put any thought into strategy yet?"
"Oh, I guess we're not wasting any time then," Korren says, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. "I have, actually. A little bit."
Seeder nods, sitting back in her chair and gesturing for him to go on.
"Well, I think I want to seem really confident. Like in training and in my interview, I'd like to seem laid back and like I'm not threatened. I'm pretty strong; I work on a potato farm. I do transportation, so a lot of lifting big heavy bags."
That explains why he's so filled out. Transportation is a highly secure job - Embelia was once shouted at by a peacekeeper for just standing too close to a transport van, and nearly accused of trying to steal. She was lucky that the man driving the van knew her, knew she wouldn't steal, and was able to talk him down.
Highly secure means highly paid, decent pay means regular meals. Korren must be from a well respected, maybe even wealthy family to have landed a job like that.
Embelia sits quietly and listens to Korren explain his ideas, taking in every succinct and carefully chosen word. Even though he speaks quickly and easily, he seems to take careful consideration of each well constructed sentence. His dark eyes shine with warmth and confidence, setting his already handsome face alight with charm. She was sure he'd soar in the Capitol, Narcisse had struck gold.
Even though he's certain to pose a huge threat, she supposes it's no harm to her that he's easy on the eyes.
Really easy on the eyes.
All the boys in Embelia's neighbourhood have never been of any interest to her. They're either rude, too skinny, or sixty years old. There's certainly no one like Korren where she's from. Strong and kind, and a quick mind for tactics. He'll be a fine partner.
But that's all… Embelia isn't delusional. He can't possibly be anything more than a partner, someone who can help her get back home who just so happens to have warm brown skin that seems to glow golden whenever a ray of sun hits it from the train's windows.
It's then she hears Seeder clear her throat, and notices everyone looking at her expectantly. She blinks out of her daze, sitting up straighter.
"Sorry?" She says, eyebrows knitting together as she looks rapidly between Seeder and Chaff.
"Have you thought about strategy yet, kid?" asks Chaff, amused smirk on his scarred face. He sounds as if he's repeating himself, and Embelia realises she'd stopped listening in favour of staring at Korren.
"Oh, no." She shakes her head, fiddling with her hands in her lap. "I haven't had time. Just been thinking about what strengths I have that might help… I'm pretty clever, and I know plants."
Seeder hums, leaning forward with her forearms resting on the table. She looks the two teenagers over with a carefully neutral expression, but there's curiosity in her eyes. She looks Embelia in the eyes, gold boring into grey. "Do you have anyone at home to return to?"
Embelia blinks, frowning before she nods. "Yeah. My mother, and my friend Bay."
Seeder nods, not giving away any reaction, and looks to Korren. "And you?"
Korren seems just as confused. "My mom and dad, and my little brother."
"I see," says Seeder. She doesn't explain herself any further.
What on earth had she meant by that question? It's possible she was just trying to gain an understanding of their motivations. Having something to go home to can surely power someone through the games.
Or maybe, whispers the wary and distrustful part of Embelia's mind, maybe she's trying to decide who deserves to live more. Who she should turn her focus to in order to save their life.
Seeder's face gives nothing away, and Embelia can't come to a definitive conclusion.
"I'll be working primarily with you, Embelia," Seeder says, moving on without elaborating. "And Chaff will work with Korren, which is our standard arrangement."
"Well," Korren says, shifting in his seat to sit up straighter. "I don't see why we should split up if we're a team, right Embelia?"
Embelia looks at him and frowns, looking him over. "Uh… I haven't decided yet."
"Well it doesn't seem like splitting up has worked in the past. No one's won since before we were both born."
Chaff scoffs, a grin on his mouth as he looks at Korren. "It's gotten District 11 past the bloodbath the last few years, kid. Don't forget we're the ones who've done this before."
"We can split up for now," says Seeder, calm. "The two of you can decide if you'd like to work together later on. Deal?"
Seeder and Chaff seem to bounce off each other quite easily, and Seeder appears to know just how to mediate her companion's boisterous temper. It's then that Embelia realises just how long they've been doing this together. And just how many children they've seen off to their deaths.
Korren frowns, looking at Embelia like he's willing her to change her mind. "Fine," he finally grumbles. "But I'll convince you, trust me."
Embelia gives him a strange look as she gets up and follows Seeder to sit on a lush sofa.
She notes that Seeder looks strong, healthy. Like she hasn't turned to substances to cope like her counterpart. She smells like honey, like the golden brown of her eyes. It's a nice change from the strong scent of bourbon that wafts from Chaff even from across the room. She doesn't look much like the rest of District 11 either, she has paler skin and different features. Narrower, almost, like her long nose and pin straight black hair, streaked with grey. She knows - better than anyone - not to ask why she looks so different, but she does wonder.
Embelia likes that she does, though, because she's much the same. While she shares the wide, round features of much of her zone, Embelia's skin is much lighter, her eyes a pale grey instead of the near black of those around her.
Though, despite her seemingly healthy demeanor, there are still dark circles that sit heavy under Seeder's eyes even as she smiles kindly at Embelia.
"So tell me a bit about you. Do you work?" she asks.
Embelia tries to return her smile, but it doesn't form right and she's certain it looks more like a grimace. "I'm a picker, in an orange grove."
Seeder leans in, interest piqued. "You any good?"
She nods, actually managing a small smile. "I'm the fastest in my zone."
"Okay." Seeder nods. "That's good, we may be able to work with that."
"Come on, kid!" Chaff's booming voice cuts through their conversation and Embelia turns around to look. She finds him with his elbow on the table, trying to goad Korren into an arm wrestle. "I'll let you wrestle the stump if you're that nervous."
Korren glances wistfully over to Embelia and catches her eye, giving her a handsome smile. She turns back around, round cheeks dusted ever so slightly pink. When she catches Seeder's eye again she's still smiling.
"Chaff likes a bit of trouble," she says, and Embelia's thankful she either doesn't notice or doesn't mention her blushing. "But he's a good mentor. I should know, I taught him myself."
"But no one from our district has won since he did," Embelia points out, not meaning to be rude.
"No," Seeder concedes. "But we do alright… and who knows? I've got a good feeling about this year's pair."