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Characters
Here
GOVERNMENT OF PANEM
DISTRICT 10 IDENTIFICATION PASS
DATE OF BIRTH
04/10
GENDER
Male
MIGRATED FROM
DISTRICT 10
COUNTRY
panem
ASSIGNED OCCUPATION
tribute
PANEM CITIZEN NUMBER (PCN)
ID # (p6h8f1.di5210)
STRAY FLORES
STATUS
HEALTH
STAMINA
HUNGER
SANITY
thoughts:
This is so fucked up.
outfit:
A training outfit.
location:
City Circle, Panem Capitol.

Ending the dinner was a sweet gesture but extremely out of place. Not that it went unappreciated, but Stray couldn’t forget about the fact that all but 1 of their death dates were coming up quick. Stray checked out mentally soon after his own little performance that didn’t go as well as he’d hoped, especially after the sarcasm flew over some heads. But, he felt reassured that the rest of them were probably thinking the same thing. Or at least Clay had been. It made him regret jumping on the bandwagon. They were all going to die for entertainment’s sake anyway, so what was the issue with being nice? In the same vein, why bother?

-​

Vixen proved to be even less helpful than he initially thought she would be with Novia even worse. Obviously, they didn’t have the same goals in mind. She told him that he was still neutral enough that his standing with the other tributes was manageable, but he’d need to make a bigger impression. Eventually, she gave. It wasn’t her in the arena after all. However, she begged Stray to at least try to be favorable to potential sponsors and appear like he had the potential to win. He could, easily, but the issue was that he didn’t want to. They settled on the idea of second place with minimal killing. Stray wasn’t really convinced, and Vixen stuck to her idea that everything would change once he truly came face to face with death. Frustrated, Stray stripped down to his underwear and tried to suffocate himself with his pillow.

It was too bad that, even with the rare chance of having his belly full and a soft bed, Stray could hardly sleep. The good life treatment was so foreign, and he couldn’t get the faces of everyone at dinner out of his head. That got him thinking about home. District 7. He might have saved his father, but now he couldn’t save his brothers if it were ever one of their names called. Stray wished that he didn’t have to die only once.

Before he knew it, the sun was rising, and he’d only drifted in and out of consciousness. Fear and anxiety gave him the energy he needed to complete the day, but steam and natural caffeine wasn’t going to keep him going forever. Stray’s thoughts shifted to the Gamemaker and how he’d mentioned the Training Center. But, before he got up he had to ask himself one thing. What kind of sick fuck did Pluto Eversong have to be to be a part of this? Stray found himself thankful. In a couple days, he’d never have to watch a bunch of kids kill each other again.

After silently encouraging himself to get out of bed, Stray raided the closet for some clothes to change into after a shower. He didn’t think twice about the face that he had one option that wasn’t there just hours ago. There had already been so many unexplainable things he’d witnessed in the Capitol thus far that some questions weren’t worth asking.

The scalding water helped ease the tension in his body. Stray stood in the shower, trying to milk it for all that it was worth in terms of hot water. 20 minutes later and there was still no cold water was in sight. His fingers were pruning, however, so he got out and dried off. Vixen bugged him, telling him that it would be better if he didn't dawdle. He did the exact opposite, not looking forward to any part of the day. To him, the dinner served as a telling sign of how the rest of the week would go.

-​

A little after 8:00 Stray arrived at the training facility after a peeved Vixen and a reclusive Novia. He didn’t think himself as that unbearable, but evidently he was good at pissing off the people who wanted the best for him.

In person, the Training Center wasn’t was Stray assumed it would be like. It was just as garish in person as it was on the screen, and he found himself standing idly for a few moments to take in the technologically advanced, avant-garde gymnasium. Truth be told, he didn’t really know where to start. Vixen gave him some ideas, but more than ever he felt homesick. Stray missed the field and barns.

Raw power, skill with sharp objects, and basic survival knowledge supported Stray. He wasn’t the best, but he definitely wouldn’t be struggling as much as Ellie, District 1’s tribute. Feeling bad for her, Stray shuffled over to the simulation room and squatted down next to her. For several painful seconds, he watched her make her attempt to build a fire. If his time in the Capitol had taught him one thing, it was that he was incredible at wasting precious time.

“I hope that, for your sake, you can get your hands on a lighter during the Games.” He offered Ellie an awkward smile. Ellie seemed nice at the dinner and rather than feeling some sort of unfairness and anger towards her, she filled him with curiosity. What was it like to be her? To be from District 1?


coded by hanthesunbeam
 
GOVERNMENT OF PANEM
DISTRICT 9 IDENTIFICATION PASS
DATE OF BIRTH
12 - 22
GENDER
GIRL
MIGRATED FROM
DISTRICT 9
COUNTRY
PANEM
ASSIGNED OCCUPATION
TRIBUTE
PANEM CITIZEN NUMBER (PCN)
PNH6A7.DI3R81
millet overwhill

STATUS
health
mental state
stamina
hunger
thoughts:
oh, yeah,
that looks like it hurts
outfit:
Standard training fit
location:
City Circle, Panem Capitol

Millet had been more than happy to leave the company of the others, giddy even, to be released from the hell that was interacting with people. Only for her positive mood to be soured by walking into a room full of more people. The three members of her team sat in her room, waiting for her to get there. Right now she just wanted to go to sleep. There wasn't anything more tiring to her than a room full of people and running around. Couldn't it wait?

It was shortly after that the screens came to life and a man, the head gamemaker himself, explained things about the training room for the next day. So that was what the ambush was about? Sorrel was the first to speak up. Millet didn't exactly listen to everything he was saying, she was busy thinking about how incredibly annoying his voice was. She caught something about how her skills could make up for her lack of personality when it came to sponsors.

After her lecture from the rest, she was happy to finally be alone. She hadn't been on her own all day and it was really starting to get on her nerves. Pressure from every single angle was making her annoyed, causing Millet to be even more snappy and volatile than normal. These were strangers, people she didn't trust, enemies even. Some had caught her intensest, others had awarded themselves the title of target.

Millet threw on the first outfit she could find, not really caring at all what she looked like as she climbed into bed. It was a strange feeling. To be completely and utterly alone. Back at home she had shared a bed with her two sisters since they were children. To not have someone kick you in their sleep or breath on your face felt...odd. Feeling very out of place in the luxury of it all, she had a harder time than usual falling asleep.

--​

The girl was up before the sunrise. She didn't have to be. Millet was in the habit of waking up before the sun. She had spent her whole entire life doing it, there was no way that one day with a more forgiving schedule was going to change that. She took her time, enjoying the peace before the storm. Reading up, once again, on her fellow tributes, sounding down in her mind who she was will to work with and who she wasn't.

A long shower wasn't something she got at home. A shower was a luxury. Maybe it was out of solace or some type of twisted guilt that she couldn't bring herself to waste more water than she needed. Millet may have been about to die, but the fact that her family couldn't have these sort of things made her hold back. It was almost sickening how much she had seen gone to waste, things that were daily necessities that people like her own family struggled to have. It was disgusting how easily everything came to her.

Her conversation with Sawyer the night before came back to her as she made her way down to the training center. They had suggested she hone in her skill set, train her strengths to be useful. Millet had never had prior combat experience. She was quick with a sickle and scythe. The faster you cut the grain, the quicker you were finished. That meant everything in the sun when others would pass out from dehydration and heat exhaustion. Her strength was good a well. And something she never knew about herself until recently was that she had good aim.

When she walked into the training room, she just wanted to take a quick look around to get situated with the layout of everything. Part of her just wanted to pick up every sharp object and hurl it across the room to see what she could hit. That seemed a little too impulsive, even for her. Millet finally made her way over to the physical therapy portion of the gym. Somewhere she planned on visiting eventually for pointers about her hand. Though as soon as she made it over, she recognized the person laying on the table being tortured by a woman. River was in obvious pain, his face scrunched up as he held back from yelling. Millet crouched slightly to be at eye level with him, cocking her head to the side. "This looks like fun," She commented, blinking over at him with curiosity. Was this the best use of her time? Probably not. But she had all day to do everything else, Plus, River was someone she was intrigued by, so time wasn't completely wasted.
coded by hanthesunbeam
 

Capitol Panem | 25th Hunger Games

District 3 Tribute Lector Giga
Cam 3 — 113° 214° -14° Capitol
Health

Stamina

Hunger

Sanity
would killing be difficult if I don't hate them? would it be scarier if it was or if I felt nothing either way?

In the quiet of the dark room, the sounds of a clock ticking echoed, soft yet piercing. Except there was no ticking; the clock in the room was digital. Lector wondered if he was having auditory hallucinations already. Probably not. It was probably just his brain trying to compensate for the eerie silence that had been going on for hours ever since he laid down on the uncomfortably comfortable bed, trying and failing to fall asleep. Seven hours, to be exactly. It was now almost exactly 6am, when the training was meant to start.

Lector blinked, and realized his eyes were burning. Three days straight of barely sleeping wasn't working out for him, clearly. A soft sigh left his lips; he didn't want to get up at all, even though lying here was pointless and not enjoyable in the least. He just wanted to stay still. Maybe hold his breath. Hope that it would let him disappear, dissipate into pitch black, as though he was never there. What chaos that would cause in the Capitol, he mused, if a tribute went missing in plain sight before the Games. Ah, too bad dreams don't come true.

With considerable effort, he forced himself to sit up, reaching out for the small light beside his bed to illuminate the room. He could have just drawn the curtains, of course, but that meant standing up. He needed a while more to muster up the will for that. Lector glanced at the training suit which hung off the wardrobe, its slender silhouette apparently made to fit him perfectly. He should be putting that on and leaving the room. Now.

He had to be moving. This wasn't school, this was a life-or-death matter. He had to go. He had to do something. He wanted to do something. Anything.But he couldn't bring himself to move. It was like this... being called Lector was just a cage for him. Like he was sitting somewhere deep inside, trapped in a cell and yelling muffled instructions, praying that this time, at least, his body would finally listen.

He scoffed at his own sentimentality, lowering his head into his open palms, pushing them against his aching eyes. Sparki and Jazz weren't going to be happy if he showed up any later than right now. They had agreed — between themselves, not with him — that he would be trying to train up his body, since he was clearly lacking compared to certain other competitors. Once more, Lector stared at the training suit. Then again, he thought to himself, did he really care for their happiness? No.

It took him ten whole minutes after that to will himself into getting out of bed and changing his clothes, then three more to convince himself that he wanted to go to the Training Center. If he hadn't already memorized the way to his destination, he would have probably only arrived about half an hour after the opening time. Well, though he was technically late either way.

"You should focus on training your stamina," Sparki had told him, " since there's no point in trying to raise your strength."

Lector was pretty sure that was meant to be an insult, but he took it as a mere fact. There was River. There was Clay. And there was him, who was going to need, say, five years to get anywhere close to as built as they were. Not that he even wanted to, though. What was the point? He was the type to use his brains, not brawn, even if he had both. He didn't want to be able to fight with those giants. He just needed to be able to run away from them.

With that thought, Lector finally entered the Training Center. There were already quite a few people there, presumably split up into the training route they chose to take. There was a section that immediately attracted his attention: a table full of gadgets, the metal glinting like diamonds under the bright lights — or, at least, they were in Lector's eyes.

But he was supposed to be training stamina. How? By running? Where? Did he really have to? He gave one more look at the table that was as magnetic as the the materials of the things arranged on it, before reluctantly turning toward the gym. He'd look at them later, he promised himself. He had to control his urge, for now, and focus on his main mission for the day.

As he neared, he spotted two of his fellow tributes, one lying down while a woman was... doing something to his leg. The other was Millet, who looked somewhat amused. A little closer and he realized that her companion was River, looking like he was absolutely suffering. Lector subconsciously ended up staring as the nurse-esque lady continued to do her something, pulling one particular trick with her hands that made River look like he wanted to scream out.

"What the..." he muttered before he could stop himself, his first words around any of the other tributes. What was this supposed to be? Pain resistance training?



codebytriples
 
GOVERNMENT OF PANEM
DISTRICT 12 IDENTIFICATION PASS
DATE OF BIRTH
09/27
GENDER
Female
MIGRATED FROM
DISTRICT 12
COUNTRY
panem
ASSIGNED OCCUPATION
tribute
PANEM CITIZEN NUMBER (PCN)
ID # (pnq7h3.di4D03)
pyra haywood
STATUS
HEALTH
STAMINA
HUNGER
SANITY
thoughts:
really loving her insomnia rn / bad memories.
outfit:
training jumpsuit.
location:
training facility, panem capitol.

— 4:48 AM.

"Can't sleep?" Light spilt into her lavish bedroom, illuminating the lanky figure leaning against the door's opening. Coal was grasping the same flask from when Pyra first met him, it was as though his life depended on it. Pyra imagined ripping it from his hands and wondering if he would melt into a puddle. "I...uh, don't really sleep anymore." Taking a swig of the flask, his dark eyes were hazy.

Pyra was situated on the bay window, onlooking the expansive and frankly impressive cityscape of the Capitol. Her coarse, thick hair was a dishevelled mess and her eyes felt heavy; certain they were bloodshot and sporting dark rings underneath. Sleep was rare for Pyra, it was something that would only happen when her body finally shut down, unable to go on any longer. Ever since the incident, it was like this. Weeks. Months.

"I read your file..." Coal broke the silence once more, Pyra's head whipping around, eyes narrowing. "Hey! Are you really surprised that they have a file on you?" Coal cocked an eyebrow, continuing, "what happened to you was rough, my dads were miners. I mean, I can't imagine what you went through, but uh...if it is any consolation, it isn't any different in the arena." Sighing, he took another sip. Pyra's eyes went back out the window, her knees were up against her chest, arms enveloping her.

"I would love to tell you that you'll forget their faces...but you won't." Silence followed, the only sound filling the room was the sound of sloshing liquid in the flask. Pyra wasn't surprised though, she always saw their faces late at night. It was the reason she couldn't shut her eyes or the reason she couldn't wake up refreshed and with a smile on her face. They were the reason she couldn't move on. Maybe you don't deserve to move on...

— 7:00 AM.


Eventually, Pyra succumbed to sleep, body curled up on the bay window. The scraping of chains sounded behind Pyra, eyes flicking open immediately. A blanket was wrapped around her, which must have been from Coal. Yet, the scraping continued.

Cautiously, Pyra lifted herself up, slowly turning her head around. The room was barely lit. Behind her was a green body hunched over the end of her bed, head elongated. It definitely wasn't human. Am I still dreaming? Her eyes searched for something to defend herself with. A lengthy floor lamp was within reach. Taking hold of the lamp, she unplugged it from the wall quietly.

Standing up, she tiptoed towards the green monster, eyes focused and hands fisting the lamp tightly. It reminded her of a pickaxe, a little lighter if anything. Readying up to swing, the monster's head began to turn to reveal — Penelope?

"About time, dear! I was afraid you would never wake up from your slumber!" They seemed unphased by the weapon ready to bash their head in. Penelope had painted themselves a green hue, their skin enveloped from head to toe. The 'elongated head' was merely a loaf of red hair, curled and pinned, with a scarf wrapped around it and tied neatly under their chin. Pyra would never understand their fashion — not that she was one to talk.

"I could have killed you!" Pyra's raspy voice sounded angry yet concerned, which was met with a curt laugh.

"Oh, that is the joys in life! You have to keep it exciting — on edge!" Penelope's perfect, pearly white teeth shone through their overdrawn lips. "Anyways, I have something for you." Pyra only then noticed the thick silver-metal chain in Penelope's green hands. They held it up, a pendant resembling a fire dangling in front. Before Pyra could speak, they continued, "I saw you didn't bring a tribute token with you, so I thought why not make you one?" Penelope stood up, causing Pyra to instinctively step back like some hurt animal.

"Turn around dear, let me put it on." Penelope gestured with a finger, leaving Pyra to drop the lamp onto the bed. Taking a step closer, Pyra turned around, ignoring her gut feeling to run away. A delicate hand brushed against her neck, combing her thick hair to one side. The warm hands around her neck reminded her of her mother. The cool chain rested on her chest as Penelope clasped it shut. "I must add, while I dabble in jewellery making, the concept is from the mind of the wonderful Justice." Sweeping Pyra's hair back in place, she continued, "I'm sure it is symbolic for something, it always is with her."

— 7:38 AM.

A short scoffed breakfast later, Pyra made her way to the training facility by the encouragement of Penelope and Coal, who just wanted Penelope to shut up. It seemed most of the tributes were already here, some circling that tribute, River, who was having something aggressively assault his leg it seemed. Gazing around the rest of the facility, she saw a few other familiar faces from the dinner. Ellie and Stray appeared to be in a conversation.

Walking further into the facility, the newly placed chain necklace thumped against her chest. It was then she spotted the wall of weapons, a massive assortment at that. One stuck out like a sore thumb, or more akin to a bad nightmare — a pickaxe.

Pyra attempted to calm herself, rubbing sweaty palms against her thighs. Instead of turning away though, she kept moving forwards. Suddenly she was in front of the pickaxe, and without much thought, she wrapped her fingers around the wood. Memories came flashing back, mostly bad ones. Pyra wanted to drop it, to run away and hide, as though the pickaxe was the cause of all the painful memories. Yet she didn't. Fuck it. Fuck all of this.

Tugging the pickaxe off the wall, Pyra turned around to be faced by a hologram. The hologram was of a nondescript figure. A figure which began sprinting towards her. No time to think, Pyra stood her ground, swinging the axe with all her force into the hologram's skull.
coded by hanthesunbeam
 
indigo lockhearst
location
Training Facility, Panem Capitol
outfit
Training outfit.
mood
"I wanna go back to sleep."
health
stamina
hunger
sanity
Before indigo went to bed, moments from the dinner ran through her mind. She felt exceptionally full, which wasn't a feeling she was used to, but as nice as it felt, it also felt a bit weird to go to bed on a full stomach. She almost felt uncomfortable, which had her tossing and turning for most of the night. Indigo had taken a lot of care to make sure she didn't stuff her face too much. All that rich food after living with a diet that consisted of one meal stretched out through a whole day wouldn't sit well with her stomach, and she didn't want to feel sick and disoriented when she woke up for training the next day.

And while she was neither of those things, she was tired. All of the thought that went into her fellow tributes when she'd been unable to get any sleep had kept her up even longer. She wasn't even sure how long she was asleep for, but she knew she was up later than she should have been. Indigo was meant to join the other ones in training, so even if she was late, she wondered vaguely how nobody had bothered to wake her up. Maybe she wasn't late?

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, Indigo kicked off the covers and dragged herself to the bathroom for a shower. She was quick, because she still believed she was running late, and once she was dressed, she slipped into the training outfit that had been laid out for her. It just sort of suddenly appeared on her bed when she came back out, which she thought was odd, but someone must have heard the water running and realised she was awake.

Properly dressed, and with her hair combed into a ponytail, Indigo made her way out of her room — which was much bigger than anything she was used to — and noticed her mentor seated at the dining table. A delicious spread of food was laid out as well, and Indigo's stomach grumbled at the sight of it.

"Morning," Tiberius greeted her.

The moment he looked in her direction, Delphi, her Capitol escort, rose from the couch and walked over with a smile on her face. "Ah, you're up!" She twirled the ends of her ponytail around to style it a bit, similarly to the way a mother would fuss over her daughter's appearance on the first day of school. "I hope you slept well. Tiberius thought it was best if we just let you sleep a little longer."

Indigo appreciated that. "Aren't I late though?"

"Actually, yes,"
Tiberius stood up and walked over to stand beside Delphi. "A little. I'm not sure you'll get to enjoy the breakfast spread but grab something quick to eat along the way. Today just experiment a bit. No need to show everyone where you're real skills lie, but if you want to practise those a bit too, then go for it. Mostly, you need to keep an eye on everyone else. See what they do, who they interact with. Today and tomorrow is all we have to make allies, and you don't want to be stuck with last pick."

Indigo had to keep in mind what she remembered from dinner the previous night, and who among them seemed like potential allies. With that thought, she grabbed a slice of plain bread from the table and nibbled on it as she took the elevator to the floor she needed to be on.

By the time she reached, the bread had been devoured, but all it did was make her feel more hungry. She was still a little sleepy too, having not gotten much sleep last night. Still, she was always good at acting, so she did her best to not look like she was running on just a few hours of proper rest.

Indigo certainly was a little late, it seemed. She recognised a lot of people already present, with Millet, River and Lex together while someone did something to River's leg. Too many people, she didn't want to add to that. Stray and Ellie were together, and while she could have easily joined in, the fact that Ellie was present was enough to turn her against the idea of learning how to make a fire. She was fairly sure she could manage with that anyway.

Pyra was a few feet off to the side, and Indigo looked at her just in time to witness her swinging her axe with a kind of ferocity that Indigo wasn't sure she wanted to be anywhere near. Perhaps for the time being it was best to observe than to interact. Glancing around, she tried to see where she wanted to go. There was an obstacle course that looked tempting — indigo was confident she could get through it in record time with her quick feet and small size, but that was perhaps a bit too much to show off on the first day, and Tiberius had warned her against that.

So, instead, Indigo opted to check out the archery station — the one without the simulation, because Indigo wasn't capable of going through that just yet. For now, she'd stick to firing at targets and hoping at least one arrow hit the centre.
 
Last edited:
GOVERNMENT OF PANEM
DISTRICT 7 IDENTIFICATION PASS
DATE OF BIRTH
10/28
GENDER
Male
MIGRATED FROM
DISTRICT 7
COUNTRY
panem
ASSIGNED OCCUPATION
tribute
PANEM CITIZEN NUMBER (PCN)
ID # (pnh0R7.di1C07)
river calhoun
STATUS
HEALTH
STAMINA
HUNGER
SANITY
thoughts:
Who does he think he's staring at?
outfit:
Fitted shirt and joggers.
location:
City Circle, Panem Capitol.

River had hoped that by getting to the Training Center so early, he would be able to do his physical therapy away from the curious, scrutinizing, remembering eyes of the other tributes; they’d no doubt wonder about what was wrong with him, perhaps reconsider their opinions about forming an alliance with him, and perhaps even keep the knowledge of his weak ankle tucked away in the back of their minds to use in the Arena. Hell, this was the kind of thing he'd take note of.

Running into the only person he was seriously considering an alliance with was probably the worst case scenario.

He nearly flinched at Millet’s sudden appearance in his line of sight, so close to his face. The young man was already jumpier than most, and in his agony, hadn’t even seen or heard the other tribute coming. Despite it all, River managed an almost pleasant expression back at her—a tight-lipped smile contorted with a grimace from the pain.

“It’s not,” he answered lightly, meeting the girl’s eyes. “The uh… Lady said this was going to help get my ankle ready for the Games. I’ve sprained it a few times working.” He shrugged. Talking was nicer than he’d anticipated since it kept his mind off whatever it was the physical therapist was doing back there.

River decided to opt for honesty to set a good precedent, in part: establishing trust between them would no doubt help later on. But at the same time, there was nothing wrong with putting a more positive spin on the situation like he had. After all, his medical history was his personal business. Millet didn’t even need to know as much as he told him.

The easy expression on his face faded as he glanced around the rest of the center, or at least the part of it he could see from his exam table. He furrowed his brow at an inconspicuous tribute whose attention was very clearly focused in their direction, squinting. It was Lector from District 3, the tribute who hadn’t said a single word at the previous evening’s dinner. Crane had advised him to tread lightly around him trough, unassuming as he may seem: he’d done some especially horrific things to earn a spot in these Games.

“Huh.” River flashed a brief glance up at Millet, speaking quietly. “Wonder what he’s staring at.”

He could already hear Crane’s voice in his head telling him to hold back, to please do something, anything else than what he was about to do, but his hard head was already set on being confrontational. The physical therapist tapped River’s leg twice to let him know she was done, and he sat up on the table, eyes still locked on Lector.

“Morning!” River raised a hand up to wave at him, flashing a dangerous kind of smile absolutely devoid of anything warm. “… Can I help you, Three?”

coded by hanthesunbeam
 
GOVERNMENT OF PANEM
DISTRICT 1 IDENTIFICATION PASS
DATE OF BIRTH
05/19
GENDER
female
MIGRATED FROM
DISTRICT 1
COUNTRY
panem
ASSIGNED OCCUPATION
tribute
PANEM CITIZEN NUMBER (PCN)
ID # (pnh3wq.di09r1)
element wright
STATUS
HEALTH
STAMINA
HUNGER
SANITY
thoughts:
perky and anxious
to flaunt herself
outfit:
training fit
location:
city circle, panem capitol

Anxiety was wrapping its leathery wings around her mind, cold and unwavering. Her cheeks flushed pink while the nape of her neck began to bead profusely with cold sweat. How was she going to survive a single night if she couldn’t start a measly spark? Quietly praying to the earthly gods endearingly known as the Gamemakers, she hoped that they wouldn’t choose a tundra biome for the Arena this year. Dainty hands, indicative of a life of little work, rubbed a juniper stick downwards, applying pressure to her tinder nest. Nothing. Ellie dropped the twig in frustration.

Grateful for the company, Ellie welcomed Stray by her side, looking up at him with a weak attempt at a smile. She found it difficult to go too long without the presence of people around her. Of all people, Ellie was surprised that Stray, who had kept to himself the night before, had approached her. Nevertheless, she took an interest in the mysterious boy from District 10. There was nothing Ellie was more passionate about than prying at something strange.

She was curious, to say the least, and decided to offset Stray’s awkward approach by replying with a feverish, “Yeah, me too. Or you.” Winking at Stray playfully, Ellie hoped that he would understand her implied invitation to become allies in the Arena. If she were to unite with Stray in the Arena, he would be able to help her survive the synthetic terrain. At least, Ellie assumed he would be able to, as he grew up in District 10- which wasn’t known for its comfortable lifestyle. Not only that, but more importantly, she genuinely liked Stray, and hoped that he felt that same.

Ellie threw her hands up in the air, surrendering the sticks and saying, “Oh, don’t look at me like that- I’m so embarrassed. I can’t start a fire for the life of me. Literally.” Standing up from her crouched position among the earth and twigs, she brushed off the remaining bits of soil that quickly clung to her pants. Dirt was Ellie’s enemy. Maybe a tundra wouldn’t be so bad.

Ellie stole a glance past Stray’s shoulder and took in the tributes that had come into the training center. Indigo was busying herself with the archery dummies (Ellie thought it best to leave her be- she wasn't necessarily the fondest of her), and Pyra was splitting holographic skulls in two. She was perturbed by Pyra’s skills- at first impression, Ellie had assumed she was simply a defenseless girl wound up with fiery nerves. Pitying the poor girl, she had not expected her to be so assured with a pickaxe in her hands. It was a sight to see, and she admired Pyra’s headstrong approach to training, though Ellie did not feel the least bit overwhelmed by her competition.

Ellie stepped over the lip that separated the terrain from the smooth tiles of the training center floor. Sick of twisting sticks around and choosing rocks to form a firepit, she decided that she would move on to something that she was more comfortable with. Not wanting to disclude Stray, she also wanted to see what Stray was good at. He would have some aptitude with butchering animals, which wasn’t too different from humans, coming from District 10. It would not be surprising to Ellie if he, too, was familiar with the art of knives, her preferred choice of weapon. She also wanted to tap into the enigma that is this District 10 tribute, unable to keep herself from testing the water for herself. She would set aside survival skills and focus on her own agenda, which may or may not come back to bite her- either by karma or Velvet. Ellie leveled her eyes with Stray, squinting at him, mystified.

“So, Flores. Stray. Is it okay if I call you Stray? I’m going to call you Stray. Tell me, what are you good at? I want to know!”

coded by hanthesunbeam
 
GOVERNMENT OF PANEM
DISTRICT 9 IDENTIFICATION PASS
DATE OF BIRTH
12 - 22
GENDER
GIRL
MIGRATED FROM
DISTRICT 9
COUNTRY
PANEM
ASSIGNED OCCUPATION
TRIBUTE
PANEM CITIZEN NUMBER (PCN)
PNH6A7.DI3R81
millet overwhill

STATUS
health
mental state
stamina
hunger
thoughts:
two is company, but three is a crowd....get it?
outfit:
Standard training fit
location:
City Circle, Panem Capitol

It was interesting how River had reacted to Millet's sudden appearance. District 7 had just about jumped out of his skin. She now definitely knew, adding in how he had acted the night before, that the guy was a bit jumpy. She was uncertain if that was a good or a bad thing. On one hand it was good to always be prepared and alert to the things around you. On the other, those who had the tendency to scare were also bad in stressful situations. And was there anything more stressful than someone trying to kill you? Probably not. Dinner last night had been a close second though.

Even if she was, at the moment, analyzing River, Millet doubted all these things would come to her mind when making a sure decision. She wasn't exactly one to think things through. Her gut feelings mostly dictated what her next move was. Rational decision making had never been her strong suit. His pained smile was met with the signature Millet expression. Blank, devoid of any particular emotion and difficult to read. There may have been a small twitch on one side of her lips. His pain somewhat amused her.

He then did something that she appreciated. An explanation she wasn't expecting to get. The tribute from district 7 went ahead and told her what this all was for. A weak ankle, huh? She could have guessed, but hearing River tell her the honest truth boosted her opinion of him. It made him even more appealing than before. "I see," She responded, nodding a few times. Millet's gaze wandered from his ankle back to his face.

"I'd hate to see what she'd do to this," She added momentarily, pulling her scarred wrist into view, "Don't stick your limbs into farm equipment." Her tone was dry, though she added a knowing smirk. It had been, what, almost ten years since her hand had gotten caught in a mill. It was still weaker than the right, but it was better than having a nub. It was after that she refused to work anywhere else but the field. You'd think she would have learned after what had happened with her father. Guess stubbornness was just as much a part of her as the color of her eyes.

The two had swapped important bits of information, gaining a small framework of trust. Things were looking promising, that was for sure. If they didn't become allies, at the very least River had gotten himself low on the kill list. Millet mused that she may even feel a little bad if she had to kill him. Though she wasn't too certain if that was even possible.

"Huh. Wonder what he’s staring at.” River brought her attention to someone else looking in. A quick glace over her shoulder acquainted her to the onlooker. It was Lector from District 3. An interesting case he was. With more blood on his hands than her own, it was probably unwise of her to be so curious about him. But she was crazy, so it wasn't surprising. He hadn't said much of anything the night prior, if at all. He was more of a thinker as she had been told. That was something Millet was not. River, however, seemed less than pleased. The addition of someone else must have perturbed him some. Seven sat up on the table and called over to Lector, his greeting less than friendly.

Millet looked from Lex, back to River, than back again to district three who was currently at a table of gizmos and gadgets. As River waved over to him, all Millet did was nod her head in his direction. Even if district 7 regarded him coldly, she kept her own demeanor neutral. Which was pretty good considering everyone else got cold eyes and a look that had the ability to kill.
coded by hanthesunbeam
 
GOVERNMENT OF PANEM
DISTRICT 10 IDENTIFICATION PASS
DATE OF BIRTH
04/10
GENDER
Male
MIGRATED FROM
DISTRICT 10
COUNTRY
panem
ASSIGNED OCCUPATION
tribute
PANEM CITIZEN NUMBER (PCN)
ID # (p6h8f1.di5210)
STRAY FLORES
STATUS
HEALTH
STAMINA
HUNGER
SANITY
thoughts:
I am actually so nervous right now I am sweating.
outfit:
A training outfit.
location:
City Circle, Panem Capitol.

Ellie was just as chirpy in this one on one interaction as she was during the first night’s dinner. Stray didn’t expect anything less from her, but her boldness still caught him off guard. Standing up, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced away. There were only a few silly reasons he’d say no to becoming allies, at least for a while. For one, he’d rather see someone from the poorer districts win. But, as long as it wasn’t him, he guessed it didn’t really matter.

“Yeah— no, I mean yeah. Sure.” Stray continuously tripped over his words and his face felt hot. He didn’t know why, but this official declaration to one of the other tributes made him jittery. In a good way, almost. “If you need help with a fire or whatever, come find me.”

District 1 would be a strong ally to have, at least for whatever period of time they maintained that relationship. Stray liked Ellie. But, thinking into the future and comparing it to how she’d presented herself thus far made him doubt Ellie’s ability to split when the time came. Stray was scared of dying and despite his ‘noble’ ideas about how the he’d allow the Games to go for him, he knew that it was difficult to predict the exact outcome. Blowing out a huff of air, Stray forced himself back into the present.

He let out a soft chuckle watching her give up. “It’s really not easy when that’s all you’ve got, and you haven’t done it before. Don’t feel too bad.” About to offer to try and be of more help to her, Stray noticed her looking towards the others. It urged him to turn and do the same.

Indigo was at archery and Pyra was slashing away at the holograms. From the corner of his eye, he caught Millet, River, and Lector near each other. He didn’t want to know what was happening with them. Much preferring the current peace, Stray glanced back to Ellie, who was contemplating him with a strange expression. Taking a small step back, he stared at her.

“I suppose I’m alright with knives and the like.” He knew he was excellent with them. In his free time, he’d sharpen them, place targets on trees, and throw them. It gave him gushes of serotonin, even more so the better his aim got. Eventually, he moved onto moving targets. He wasn’t proud of that.

Stray motioned for Ellie to follow him and shuffled towards the rack of bladed weapons near some targets that were set up. Sparing a few moments to pluck one from the generous collection, he settled on a larger chef’s knife rather than one of the proper throwing knives. After weighing it in both of his hands, he placed himself at a considerable distance from one of the dummies, drew his arm back, and launched the blade. The knife spun through the air before sticking right in the head of the dummy.

Turning to Ellie, he smiled at her proudly for a moment before his face returned to its typical jaded state. "But that’s useless if I don’t get my hands on any knives, isn’t it?” He shrugged before crossing his arms over his chest. ”What about you, Ellie? What can you do?”


coded by hanthesunbeam
 

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