darya marin.

“Right,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “Well… that makes things easier.”

The tension in his shoulders eased, like something he’d been bracing for hadn’t quite landed. “Best swimmer in Four,” he went on. “Yeah. I believe that.” There was no edge to it this time - just a quiet kind of respect.

He studied her again, but differently now - not analysing, not picking her apart. Just… taking her in. “At least you’re honest about it,” he added. “Or trying to be. Not many others here would bother.”

At her offer, he hesitated - not shutting it down outright, but weighing it. “My sister’s the one who really knows her way around herbs,” he said carefully. “I just picked things up watching her. Enough to know what helps… and what doesn’t.” He paused, considering his next words. Unsure how much to reveal straight off. “Not looking to trade everything I know. But… I wouldn’t mind knowing who I’m not going to have to watch my back for every second.”

His gaze flicked over her, then back to the view from the window. “Swimming’s a good edge to have. Even if there’s no water, it still tells me that you're strong and resilient. Useful skills to have when people are trying to kill you.”

A faint, tired half-grin touched his mouth. “Besides… if nothing else, we’re not exactly the pairing they’d put money on.”

A pause.

“Should keep things interesting for them, I suppose.”

They kept watching him even as he turned away, studying him like he was something to memorize. Was he suggesting...being allies? No. Couldn't be. Had she given the impression that she wanted that? Darya dug her nails into her palm as she turned his words over in her head.

"What exactly are you suggesting? That you'll only help me if I promise not to hurt you in the arena?" Her face scrunched up. "Because I can only make that promise for myself- not for the people I'll be with."

"Besides, there are plenty of other ways I could learn about herbs," their tone had gone cold, and they looked out the window again. It did little to soften their edge. They'd definitely gone too far, given too much away. They couldn't let him get more from this conversation than they did. "I don't need to do things just to...keep things interesting, or whatever."

vanity knew perfectly well that there had to be other drinks in the capitol — her district alone produced coffee, as well as a sweeter drink called hot chocolate that the capitol seemingly couldn't get enough of — but with the amount of alcohol the district produced, it might as well be all they drank.

she smiled at darya, gesturing loosely at their glass. “how's your... milk?”

She tore her gaze away the second Vanity spoke again, choosing instead to look at her tall glass of milk. "...Sour," she grumbled. "What makes you so sure you're going to win the Games?"

Darya had trained for long enough to know that training didn't gaurantee anything. It increased her odds, sure, but one stroke of bad luck and she could be out in the bloodbath. Darya knew she was incredible at what she did, but she wasn't delusional. She could make the wrong allies, or piss off the wrong person, or sleep in the wrong fucking tree. There were any number of decisions that could make her end. And, sure, Districts 1, 2, and 4 were having a good run in the past decade- but overall? Statistics were pretty even across all districts. They couldn't count anyone out.

"How do you know Twelve won't win? Or Ten? Or maybe this is Seven's year."

"Is that why you're here?" Seraphina asked as she stood up, making her way to the center of the room. "Because you have trouble sleeping?"

Once she was far enough away from her company, Seraphina pulled her dress over her head in one fluid motion. It was a simple thing, plain and frayed with more than one suspicious stain. Now it looked like nothing more than a mess of crumpled fabric.

She wore nothing underneath, so the temparature of the room met her body with a quick intensity. She sighed with pleasure, rolling her head from shoulder to shoulder as she let the heat relax her muscles. After a few moments, she made her way to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest and letting her head rest gently on them, looking towards the other tribute.

"You're right," she murmured, "it's better when you're naked."

The sauna simply wasn't going to cut it. She looked up to find the blonde stripping herself of her dress. The sauna definitely wasn't going to cut it.

Darya unfolded herself and stood up, glancing towards the other tribute as she made her way to the floor. "Comfortable?" Darya made a beeline for the door. She wouldn't consider herself a prude, per se, but nothing about being in a sauna with a naked stranger felt appealing right now. "Well, I'm getting pretty hot so I'm gonna-"

A screeching noise clawed at her ears, and then she was pressed to the wall and breathless. A second ago, there had been dim lighting throughout the sauna, but now it was completely dark. A light in the hallway momentarily washed the room in red. Okay, so it wasn't completely dark.

Kai inhaled sharply. He returned his gaze to Darya, glad that in this moment – in this neverending, hazy, terrifying moment – that it was her he found himself next to. He’d never been quite sure where the two of them stood, but Kai was so grateful it was Darya he was traveling into the belly of the beast with.

“That’s fair.” He nodded at their assessment. Nobody really could tell what was to come; nobody knew what the blood, sweat and alchemy of the Arena would give rise to. Kai wrestled with the duality of his own reasoning: he was unsure if he could kill, but he also somehow knew if it meant saving Darya that he wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. “Guess it’s better to live and find out.” He paused for a moment, mulling over his words. It was better to survive no matter the cost… right?

It has to be me or you. He felt these words like fire in his blood. He had no qualms with this conclusion. They were right – it had to be one of them. They’d spent too many hours dedicated to this very thing, and Kai would be damned if he let either of them fall at the gates of victory. Kai felt himself returning to his body, settling into his form and feeling a sense of clarity grow within him.

“Me or you.” He held up his hand, extending his pinky finger. “Promise?” His words hung in the air before he continued, “We’ll figure something out. I’ve seen a few others – we have our work cut out for us, but we can win. One of us can, I know it.”

They hooked their pinky around Kai’s, let a promise fall from their lips, and suddenly, they weren’t playing this game as an individual anymore. A moment ago, they’d been toying with the idea of giving it all up, of lying down and failing and making an embarrassment of their father. Now, they’d be sacrificing Kai’s chances if they did that. There was no longer a choice. One of them was going to win. Darya had to wipe the sweat and self-pity from their brow and get to work.

Darya slipped their pinky out from under Kai’s, patted his hand, and shook off whatever sentimentality had been blanketing them. It was time for strategy. They didn’t care if they weren’t in the Capitol yet. If they didn’t have the right mentality, they might as well die first. Their trainers had hammered this mindset into them since childhood. If they weren’t locked in on what they wanted from start to finish, nothing mattered. They had to stop pretending like they could will themself out of this situation. The only way out now was through. 

They were on their feet and pacing in seconds. 

“Okay, first, we need allies. We both know you’re the best candidate for that mission. Do whatever you have to do to win over the strong competitors. Anything you have to do. We should start with the siblings, from One. If anyone asks, you want to ally with me because I’m an asset. No other reason. If you need to talk shit about me, do it,” Darya ran a hand through their short curls, shaking them out as they took a second to think. Then, they were rattling off again. “As far as the training districts go, Four is the most overlooked. Use that. Play down how much you’ve actually trained. We don’t want the other trained tributes to view us as a threat until they’re sleeping next to us in the arena.”

Finally, they stopped to breathe. They looked at Kai and paused. “Too much?”

“i'm really not sure,” she added, in response, resisting the urge to giggle again. she settled for what she knew was a charming smile. it was a lie — she had enough experience with alcohol to know that it made her giggly, friendly, happy. it also made her stupid, which is why she wasn't drinking now. she couldn't afford to be stupid right now. every moment counted.

"What made you want to start now?" There was genuine interest in her tone, probably for the first time since they started talking. Was there a chance someone else from the upper districts was dreading this as much as she was? Not likely. "Are you that bored already?"

He let out a short breath, something almost like a laugh, but there was no real humour in it.

“Deer?” he jeered, with a crease between his eyebrows. “That’s for Peacekeepers and their families. Too rich for our district rat tastes, I'm sure.” he spat out bitterly.

He tilted his head slightly, and acquiesced.

“Berries, when there’s time to gather them,” they went on. “And when no one’s watching too closely.”

His gaze drifted briefly toward the trees beyond the glass, distant for a moment.

A pause. Then, like the thought slipped out before he could stop it.

“My sister collects herbs. Medicinal stuff mostly, but sometimes something makes it into the food, if we’re lucky. Makes our rations taste actually palatable...”

He shrugged painfully, like it didn’t matter now. He would likely never see his sister again.

His eyes slid back to her, sharper now.

“Though I’m guessing you didn’t have to worry much about where your food came from,” he said, with touch of reproach in his voice. “Captain’s daughter and all.”

Not quite an accusation. Not quite neutral either.

"Both, I think," Darya answered truthfully. It was too exhausting to play a game of subterfuge. With all of their strengths, they didn't need dishonesty. "And I..."

Darya blew out a shaky breath, avoiding Rowan's gaze. "I'm pretty much the best swimmer in Four. I don't know why I lied about that, because it's probably pretty obvious that someone from my district can swim. And it's probably stupid to admit that I'm lying two seconds after the fact," they realized they hadn't taken a breath since they started speaking, and gasped for air. Fuck, they were bad at this. They should have left all the talking to Kai. "Anyway, it won't matter if the arena has no water."

They cleared their throat, trying to reset. They didn't really know what would come out of their mouth next. "Is it just your sister who knows about herbs? Because if any of that knowledge rubbed off on you... I think I have a skill or two I could trade for the particulars."

“what's it like in four? i've never been,” she added, her voice high and breathy, doing her best to replicate the tone of voice she'd heard from other girls when they'd talked about boys. vanity had never had time for that sort of thing, and she'd thought that voice sounded stupid, which of course meant she intended to use it as much as possible until they got into the arena. “i heard it's pretty there.” district one was an ugly, flat place — you could see for miles and miles, and everything died in the winter, turning everything you could see an ugly shade of brown. vanity would be hard pressed to call district one pretty, which was ironic given the industry's exports, all of which were things that glitter and gleamed and shone.

“i mean, i guess i'll see it for myself when the train gets there. but that's not the same,” she adds, with a giggle.

"So you've never seen the ocean? Or...swam in it?" Darya frowned. What a terrible way to live, and an even worse way to die. They opened their mouth to ask more about the bodies of water within District One, but found another thought surfacing instead. They couldn't hold back their curiosity. "And why are you giggling so much?"

Now, all that remained of his home was the tribute next to him, shoulder against shoulder as his gaze met a pair of captivating brown irises. The fear of them ending up here had always resided in the back of his mind -- like the sleek body of some apex predator, stalking in the shadows, eyes glittering in the moonlight. Now, it had become a reality.

He nodded at her words, a small chuckle escaping his lips when Darya finally began speaking in jest. "But my ass is so nice, why would they kick it..." he pouted jokingly before the tone intensified once more. He nodded solemnly, taking a deep breath before exhaling long and slow. "I know. I'm not gonna hurt you either."

Kai his words linger in the air for a bit before clearing his throat. "I mean, not that I can hold a candle to ya." He gave them a playful nudge with his shoulder. "Fast in water, fast on land. Always the best. Crowd's gonna love you." He then bit his lip in contemplation, contemplating his next words before finally asking, "Do you really think you'll be able to do it? You know..." He hung his head down a bit, struggling to muster the courage to speak the words. If he did, he knew he was in it for real. "Kill?"

Crowd's gonna love you. Darya felt a short huff of air escape her nose- a whisper of a laugh. If there was anyone the Capitol would love, it was Kai. He was just their type. She opened her mouth to say as much when she noticed how hard he was thinking and stopped in her tracks. It was unsettling to see his demeanor change so quickly, so Darya pushed herself up and turned to face him completely.

The second he asked the question, she regretted being in his direct line of sight. Her eyes darted away, studying her hands in her lap like they might have some sort of answer. She knew what those hands were capable of. She just didn't know- couldn't know- if her mind would allow it. "I think...," she sucked in her cheek and bit down. Silence stretched on longer than she meant it to. "I think no one knows what they're capable of right now."

"I mean, I think I could. Yes. I could," A sharp inhale, then a brief attempt to look up at Kai before their gaze fell back to their hands. "I just don't know if I could live with myself afterwards. That's going to be... That would be the hard part."

"We need to figure something out, Kai. I can't die for nothing, and I refuse to kill for nothing... So it has to be me or you."

The gesture felt… off. Not wrong, exactly. Just out of place here. Like something from a different world.

He hesitated, then took it, wrapping his larger, calloused hand around hers briefly before letting go again.

“Rowan,” he said, nodding tersely.

His eyes flicked over her, taking in the way she carried herself: steady, precise, unflinching. Could probably hold her own in a fight, he thought. Maybe even quietly dangerous. Was she testing them—or just being friendly? Hard to tell.

“Besides the usual,” he said, rolling his eyes and letting a hint of a smile touch his lips. “We hunt, fell trees, try and make sure the forest doesn’t swallow us whole.”

They shrugged and decided there was no real harm in being friendly. For now. “As for me, its pretty much the same as anyone who works the forest,” they said. “Cut. Haul. Climb when you have to.”

A pause. Then a teasing half-smile. “Though I’d bet you’re more at home in the ocean than up a tree.”

"Rowan," they repeated. Their stomach churned at the sound of it. It would be easier not to know anyone's name. It would be easier not to try conversing with them at all. They wiped at their pants and looked back to the trees, desperate to ground themself.

They listened to Rowan rattle off each of their abilities. Nothing Darya couldn't have guessed, but still far too honest. Their eyes flicked back to him as he teased. For a moment, they considered telling the truth. The moment passed. "Well, my father's a ship captain," they started. That part was true, at least. "Spent most of my childhood on deck, so I guess I feel more comfortable on top of the ocean than in it."

In truth, Darya's father hardly let her near his ship. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't care to ask. She hated that hunk of wood, and she hated the crew that worked it. But she knew everyone would assume correctly that she was a strong swimmer. It was never too early to start a campaign of confusion. That campaign would probably be more effective if she were any good at lying. One follow-up question and she'd be figured out.

"Do you eat a lot of fish in Seven?" She deflected. "Or is it mostly...deer? Rabbit? Berries?"

“well, it's always nice that when my skincare routine gets the acknowledgement it deserves,” vanity said, smiling. her routine consisted of buying stolen products from the factories, and those certainly didn't come cheap. when she won the games, she wouldn't have to resort to factory leftovers and what could be smuggled out in a sleeve any longer. that victor's stipend was going to be put to good use.

“i'm vanity. from one,” vanity said, and then, because she couldn't resist, added, “why, don't i look like enough of a luxury?” she batted her eyes at the other tribute dramatically, almost clumsily — all the better to sell the tipsy act with.

“you don't look so underfed yourself... so i'm guessing you're from four?” she was guessing, but she would've bet money on it, if she'd been a betting kind of girl — they couldn't have been two, and that left very few districts where there was enough food to go around, four being one of them.

Their gaze snapped back to her face when she guessed their District correctly. Someone was observant. "You think I'm well-fed? Could be a mayor's kid from a lower district," they shrugged, taking their milk gratefully from the avox. "Or... a merchant. Or something."

"But I'm not," they sighed, taking a sip of milk. "I'm Darya. From Four."

Their next question hit Kai in the chest with the same velocity of the bullet train that they were currently floating along in. "I- what? Vote for you?" Kai stuttered, genuinely taken aback. "Shit, Darya, you're the one who's gotta be joking now." He let out a huff of air, quickly coming to the conclusion that this conversation was getting dire, and fast. God, Kai hated serious conversations like these -- serious conversations of any kind, really. The directness of Darya's words crawled under his skin and nestled into his nerves before giving them a slight shock. He looked down at the floor in meditation before realizing he still needed to adorn himself with more than just a towel and a shirt. "Give me a sec."

Kai ducked into the lavatory, shutting the door behind him and dropping a towel before amending boxers and joggers to his increasingly chic ensemble. He exited the bathroom, eyes fixed on the other Tribute from 4 before sighing. "I didn't vote for you." He spoke the truth, running fingers through locks still slick with perfumed moisture. "You shouldn't be here. Even if your father did basically ship you off." His words were meant to be kind, but he regretted mentioning their father as soon as he said it.

He slowly sauntered over to the edge of his bed, lowering himself to the floor and resting his back against the edge of the mattress. He took another sigh, eyes plaintively staring off into the distance. "This place is already fucked up. Like, really fucked up." He patted the carpeted floor next to him, offering a seat to, perhaps, the only other person in the world that he could currently trust.

Tension left her shoulders the second he confirmed it, and then returned at the mention of her father. There probably wasn't a soul in the district that he hadn't told to vote for his child. They could only imagine how much he rejoiced when the Quell was announced. Darya sank down solemnly next to Kai, their shoulder brushing his gently. There was no use staying sorry for themself, especially when everyone else in their position would be trying to kill them soon.

Well, all but one. Hopefully.

"You don't deserve to be here either," they said finally. A beat of silence. They pulled their knees up to their chest. They could feel the discomfort radiating off of Kai, so they followed up with a small smile. "I mean, I could easily list, like, ten people back home that could kick your ass."

She'd meant it to lighten the mood, but she didn't like the aftertaste of the joke. She cleared her throat, looking at him seriously again. "You know I'm not gonna hurt you in there, right?"

A knock at the door. He missed it the first time, but the urgency of the second and a faint "Kai!" finally registered in his psyche. He quickly shut off the shower -- as fast as his unfamiliar fingers could -- before hastily wrapping a towel around his waist and heading for the door. As infamous as Kai would soon be, there was only one human who could possibly shout his name with such familiarity.

The door opened with a metallic swoosh and sure as the tide rises, there they were.

"Darya Marin," he beamed, running his fingers through decently wet hair before crossing his arms. Darya was a familar face. Darya meant home. Kai leaned against the door frame, glistening and damn near half-nude. "We've gotta stop meeting like this."

"How do you think I'm holding up, Kai?" They absentmindedly paced the length of the room, dragging their fingertips along the wall.

They hadn't explored every corner of their emotions yet; they weren't sure they'd have the time. But there was one thought that had rattled around in their head all day: Did anyone see them for more than their talents? A small part of them had hoped that, someday, their father would wake up and realize he couldn't bear the thought of losing his only child. They thought that if they worked hard enough, people would see that they were indispensable to the community.

When they were voted into the Games, no one seemed scared of losing them. Maybe Darya should feel good that everyone had so much confidence in them, but it stung to know that no one wanted them to stay. They spared a glance at Kai. Did he know how they were feeling? Or did he also think of her as the sum of her abilities?

"Did you vote for me?" The words fell out of their lips like dominoes, quick and unstoppable. There were things Darya had to know before privacy was a thing of the past- before cameras followed their every move. She could only hope Kai took this seriously.

vanity knew the game they were playing. and like with all games, she was in it to win. she took a long, slow sip of her drink, trying desperately to ignore the squirming, uncomfortable feeling that was settling itself in underneath her ribs.

the problem, of course, with this game, was that vanity was not the kind of girl who liked silence. she couldn't stand silence, in fact.

“like what you see?” she asked, her voice calm and smooth and easy, in no way betraying her real feelings.

her mother's voice rings in her ears. you need to do better than this, vanity. this is the hunger games. you need to learn to keep your mouth shut.

she takes another long sip of her drink, wishing for a brief moment that there was gin in her drink. at least that would help shut her mother's voice up.

When the silence was finally broken, Darya leaned back in her stool, a dangerous smile playing at her lips. "Haven't decided yet."

Darya leaned her elbows on the bar, waving the avox over. She didn't drink- had never had a drop of alcohol in her life- and she wasn't about to start now. There were plenty of things she might regret not doing before the Arena, but drinking wasn't one of them. So when the avox looked expectantly at her, she ordered a tall glass of milk.

"So, are you from One or Two?" Darya didn't bother turning her body towards the blonde, but she addressed her with her eyes. "Can't be from one of the outer districts. You look like you moisturize."

"I didn't know it was that bad," she felt oddly protective of the odour that radiated from her skin, "it was fine 'til I came in here."

Truthfully, she had felt the grease in her hair and the grime under her nails some days ago, but had not felt inclined to wash it away. The bathroom attached to her room on the train only had a shower, and she was immediately averse to all the buttons and knobs that she was faced with.

She didn't trust where the water came from, didn't understand how they were able to hook the water up to the train and keep it flowing. The shower was useless to her - at least with a tub she'd be able to see the water she was using, watching the dirt and dead skin cling to the surface as she scrubbed.

She looked at the person before her, with their straight shoulders and quiet confidence, and sighed. Perhaps it could be interesting to see how their lives differed, how the things that came naturally to Seraphina would be completely foreign to the person whose head now rested against the wall.

"I have," they nod. They'd never thought of it as a privilege, but it was apparent that some districts didn't have comforts like this. In District Four, they even had saunas that floated on rafts. Darya decided not to mention that. "Usually people get naked for these."

Finally, Darya pried open their second eye. Their eyes caught on the stranger's grease-slicked hair, then dropped to her blood-crusted nails. It was likely that her nails were a product of their current circumstances. Darya had bitten their own nails down to stubs in the quiet of their room. It was a reminder that they were the same now. Maybe yesterday she'd been privileged, but today she was just a lamb to the slaughter.

"I'm not encouraging you to get naked, by the way," Darya pressed her palm to her brow and swept some sweat away. "Just be prepared to sweat a lot. It's supposed to help you release toxins. Could help you sleep."

The space had been quiet before, but their presence settled into it, disturbing the fragile sense of refuge he had managed to find. His shoulders tightened slightly, though he kept his eyes on the passing tree line beyond the glass.

At their words, he frowned faintly.

“I didn’t realise we’d travelled so far,” he said, more to the horizon than to them. A small pause. “Maybe you’re right.”

Only then did he glance over, brief and measured, before looking away again.

At the mention of the sequoias, something in his expression shifted—subtle, but wistful.

“I’ve seen them,” he said. “Near the coast.”

His hand came to rest against the cool glass, fingers pressing lightly, as if grounding himself. He shifted his weight, still aware of them lingering nearby.

“Not used to being this far from it,” he added, quieter, unable to fully hide the note of sorrow in his voice.

"District Seven, then? We're neighbors," her tone was even, her expression unmoving. Then, a flicker of a smile. She extended her hand towards him in a way that felt unnatural. "I'm Darya."

It was strange to introduce herself to someone she'd have to be killing in a few weeks, especially when the person seemed so...normal. Maybe he'd even be likable if the circumstances were different- hard to tell, really. The important thing was that he was open. If she kept being cordial, maybe she could get a read on his strengths before they got to the Capitol.

"What do you guys do in Seven, besides cut down trees and make paper?"

no, what vanity needed to do was assess the competition — surely district one hadn't been the only district clever enough to realize that this year they didn't have to risk sending in some unprepared, underfed child. this year, they could send in the best of the best, and vanity wanted to know who, exactly, she was up against. sure, some of the outer districts had probably failed to put two and two together, but there were enough districts that she knew that some of them had to have sent someone worth competing against.

Oh, fuck- Darya winced as she accidentally made eye contact with the blonde sitting at the bar. The girl had a healthy complexion, shiny hair, and a dangerous glint in her eye- very reminiscent of the District One tributes of the past few years.

Reluctantly, Darya put her hurried mission on pause. It would be a rookie mistake to make eye contact with a possibly well-trained tribute and simply walk away like it hadn't happened. Instead, she sat right next to the girl and stared intently at her, studying her face and the way she sat and the drink in her hand. It was her way of saying hello.