Embelia greets the next morning with a tired gaze, watching as the silent, strange looking servant delivers her new clothing.
She watches them from where she sits beneath the sheets, and doesn't understand why they don't even wish her a good morning, they only offer a nod of their head before they're out as quickly as they were in. She makes a conscious choice not to dwell on it, fearful of what conclusions her mind might conjure up given the chance to. Instead, she gets up from the bed in which she'd tossed and turned all night and goes to pick up the clothes.
Her hands find a pair of black leggings and a cropped t-shirt to match, the sleeves embroidered with a bright bold 11. She tugs gently on the hem of the shirt, wondering if it's intentionally that short, or if they've just misjudged her size again. Regardless, she changes into them. The shirt fits fine, but leaves an uncomfortable emptiness around her middle that she keeps trying to close. She tugs the pants up higher and tugs the shirt down to no avail. It's clearly intentional, for whatever reason. Fashion, maybe.
As she moves toward the bathroom, she notices something she missed, sitting on the bed where the clothes had been. A small leather bracelet, her token. Dorian had taken it for safe keeping during the tribute parade. Embelia cracks a smile, hurriedly picking it up and slipping it back onto her wrist.
She trails her dainty fingers over the worn leather, thinking of her home, of Bay, who'd placed so much faith in her return. Her smile falters, and the fond memories that had sprung to the surface are quickly overtaken by her fears, by the thought of Bay's horror when she surely perishes in that arena. She had been tasked with an impossible promise, but she was not one to go back on her word. She sniffles, adjusting the bracelet on her wrist before looking up, going to finish getting ready and face what lay ahead.
Korren and Embelia stand in the elevator together, Seeder's advice echoing in their heads as they descend to the basement. It seems as though even Korren is too anxious to speak, though he does keep glancing at Embelia, whose eyes focus instead on the glass wall of the elevator. She watches the skyline in daylight with curiosity. It doesn't look as beautiful as it had at night.
She continues to watch even as they disappear underground, and only glances forward when they come to a stop and the doors slide open. Revealed before them is an expansive gym, bordered with survival stations and weapon stations alike. They appear to be the last tributes to arrive- Embelia fears that it may be her fault. She'd spent much too long trying and failing to put her hair in some semblance of a braid. Even just one might have sufficed. In the end, she'd settled for tying her curls back in a ponytail that she fears could fall out at any moment, getting into her face and leaving her vulnerable. She doesn't know what she'll do with it when she enters the arena. Hopefully Dorian will have come up with something more secure.
Embelia enters a few steps behind Korren, eyes still scanning the room as she makes her way to the center of the room where the other tributes have gathered. Even as the head trainer - who introduces herself as Atala - gives them all a rundown of the rules and a few pieces of advice she glances around her surroundings, her gaze falling on the edible plants station and quickly lighting up.
The moment they're given free reign, everyone seems to head in different directions. Some head for the survival stations, while the careers head right for the weapons. A few others stand around, looking around aimlessly and unsure where to start. Embelia, however, turns to her partner.
"You need to work on edible plants with me."
"Who says I need to work on it?" Korren responds, but doesn't fight it when he's tugged by the wrist toward the station.
"Please," Embelia says. She smiles politely to the instructor but declines his help. She's certain she'll be a better teacher for Korren. "Look at you, Korren."
"What about me?" Korren questions as the girl before him takes a seat in the false underbrush and crosses her legs.
Embelia looks him over pointedly. "You're well fed, which means you're wealthy, which means you don't need to know these things."
Korren folds his arms, shrugging a couple times as he opens his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but nothing comes out. "I- I wouldn't say wealthy."
"Wealthier than me. Come on." She pats the ground before her, giving him a smile when he gives in and sits across from her. "Even if you did know, I probably know more than you."
"How do you figure that?" he questions, watching as Embelia plucks some leaves and berries from around her and places them in a bigger leaf, fashioned into a bowl.
Embelia smiles to herself, sparing him a glance as she considers her words. "My mother is a maid," she begins, amused by Korren's confused look. "She's worked for the same family for all my life. They're wealthy, more so than you, but they're very generous."
"Still not seeing the connection," Korren says, reaching for a berry but drawing his hand back when Embelia makes a noise of protest.
"If you'll let me finish." She sets the big leaf down in her lap, grabbing another and beginning to sort the plants between the two receptacles. "When I was little, they used to let my mom borrow books from their library for me to read- I assume to give a single parent a break so she could do things other than keep me entertained. Anyway, I devoured them, no matter the book. There were books in there on plants, those were our favourite. Cause mom could teach me along with the books. What to eat, how to eat them, what to avoid, and what could be used for medicine."
"What's the sorting process here?"
"Are you listening?"
"Yes! I asked, of course I'm listening. But a good teacher allows their student to ask questions."
"I'm sorting them into edible and non-edible, if you must know. Then I'll help you memorize them. Satisfied?"
"My thirst for knowledge is momentarily quenched."
Embelia can't help the smile she cracks. "Shut up," she mumbles. "Anyway, I read all those books. There were even some old ones in there, there was some pretty heavy censoring but they talked about plants and fruits that haven't existed in Panem since the dark days- some that never existed in Panem at all."
"Really? Like what?"
"Like… guava," she says, a bit proud to share her knowledge. "A fruit that used to grow south of Panem."
She assumes that whatever used to be south of Panem once had a name, but it had been blacked out and "south of Panem" written in its place. She often wonders if she was really allowed to be reading those books, but she'd never gotten in any sort of trouble for it. Maybe because she'd never gotten caught. She never quite knew what it was that made that family so wealthy, but she's certain it's something unsanitary, to do with the Capitol's less glamorous secrets.
"Guava…" Korren repeats, testing the word on his tongue with amused curiosity. "That's crazy."
"The books said they tasted like… a sweeter pear."
Korren watches quietly for a moment as Embelia sorts her plants. She doesn't notice the smile on his face. "Well, if I see guavas in the arena I'll have a taste and let you know."
"Do you think they can do that?" Embelia asks, head popping up to look at the gamemaker's box. There, a gaggle of them sit, watching and taking notes, likely listening in to what they can. She hopes they're listening to this, somehow, and jotting down ideas. She'd adore just a taste of one of the fruits she's read so much about. Even in this situation, at least it would be a reason to smile. "Recreate extinct fruits?"
"Probably. The technology here is…" He trails off, blowing out an impressed puff of air from his pursed lips. "A couple years ago they had a tropical volcanic island for the arena. Nothing like that exists in Panem."
"Maybe it used to. Like guavas." She tears her eyes away from the gamemakers' box and looks at Korren. "Ready to begin?"
After Embelia is satisfied with what she's managed to teach Korren, the pair make their way around the gym, spending some time at each survival station until it seems they've run out, and all that's left is the stations Embelia desperately wants to avoid: the weapon and fighting stations. She glances over to where the boy from two fights a trainer with a sword and swallows, averting her gaze.
"Okay," She says. "We can circle back round to some of the ones we weren't so good at before lunch-"
"Come on," Korren says suddenly, grabbing her hand and beginning to drag her across the gym, to a rack of silver bows. Embelia's eyes are wide as she tries to protest, but all that comes out is stammered noises.
"We don't need it!" she eventually manages.
Korren releases her hand once they're stood in line behind the boy from three, giving her a look with raised brows. "There's no way we'll get through this on survival alone, you know that as well as I do. There's no harm in giving it a try!"
Embelia looks around before responding, noticing the girls of the career pack stood at the next station over, the girl from two throwing axes at a target and hitting it dead on each time. Embelia scowls, and turns her gaze back to Korren. "Fine," she concedes, huffing as Korren gives her a celebratory grin and steps up to the bows.
There's no denying Korren is an imposing figure. Next to the weedy twelve year old from three, he looks like a giant. Tall and muscular from years of work, and confidence never wavering. Embelia often wonders why he'd weaken his image by associating with someone as unassuming as herself, but she doesn't ask him, worried he'd come to a realization and break off their arrangement. She figures she should count her blessings that he does associate with her. Proximity is a more powerful tool than most people give it credit for.
She watches closely as Korren pulls back the bowstring, the carefully sculpted muscles of his back flexing in the black tank top Duchess had chosen for him. She hears him take a breath and watches him close one eye before releasing the arrow. It flies forward with a quiet whizz, burying itself in the shoulder of the target. Korren lights up, letting out a whoop of celebration. He turns to Embelia with that charming smile.
"You missed," Embelia points out with an amused smile.
"Hitting the target is more than I hoped for! An arrow to the shoulder hurts pretty bad, don't you think?"
Her smile grows to more than amusement, perhaps even fondness. "Lowering your expectations?"
"Exactly! Your turn!" He holds out the bow to her, and she hesitates a moment before taking it.
"Lower your expectations even further for this," she warns, stepping up to the line and tugging curiously on the bowstring. She's never even held a bow until now, much less shot one. Even as she grabs an arrow and nocks it, she's wishing Korren had at least dragged her to something more beginner friendly. Her arm trembles as she pulls the taut bowstring back.
She releases a soft grunt of exertion as she does her best to hold it in place, releasing it when she feels she has a clear shot at the target's head and… she watches it fly right past the target and into the wall behind it. Her arm still trembles as she lowers the bow, though not from any sort of exertion or nerves this time. It's humiliation.
And when she hears snickering from the next station she whips around, seeing that same girl from one who'd tried to scare her last night standing there, whispering to the girl from four. Humiliation and shame sinks into her skin and she slams the bow down and turns to Korren, who looks incredibly sheepish.
"I shouldn't have listened to you," she mumbles, making to walk away but Korren catches her arm. "Let go! You should have just let me stick to what I know!"
"Embelia," he says, voice only loud enough for her to hear. "I did it for a reason-"
"Yeah, to humiliate me, I figured that much." She tugs her arm from his grip but doesn't move, glaring up at him. "That is low."
"Will you let me-"
"No! Just- leave me alone! Those girls think I'm weak now, you've made me look like a complete idiot!"
She should never have trusted him, she thinks as she storms away, back to what she knows she won't fail at. She doesn't know why she bothered to let him in even a little bit, she should've known by now that trust is just betrayal waiting to pounce, that Korren would just be another soul that wasn't worth caring for. No one was, especially not Korren, who's destined to die, or to live over her. Perhaps even to kill her himself.
But still, she won't pull too far away from him, won't break her promise to him to help him through this as he supposedly helps her. So when she hears him following her she doesn't stop him, but she doesn't look at him. She'll cool off, she'll tuck the humiliation away safe in her mind, never to be explored again, and she'll continue on trying to survive. And this time, she won't be so foolish as to let any care for Korren, or any silly feelings that only end in heartbreak distract her
She promises herself, but promises with herself are far too easy to break.