a heroic tragedy

Wake up, eat, smile, sleep. Wake up, eat, smile, sleep.

The days in the Capitol followed the same tiring, exhausting routine, yet every single one of them seemed to be a new trip of horror for Robbie. Some days he wondered if he would even ever get used to this. Probably not. Looking at the mentors that were still older than him, he was actually quite sure that it never would. Except if he decided to drown himself in alcohol and pills, and that hadn't worked out too well. He wasn't sure if he should want it to help anyway.

Stepping into the elevator on the tenth floor, Robbie leaned against the cool walls, inhaling a deep breath as he looked at himself in the mirror in front of him. In his dreams he was still just a little boy who had to sit on a pillow next to Caesar to appear taller, answered his questions in a high, insecure voice and looked at the pictures of teenagers killing each other, of him killing others, put a look of horror on his face. When he was awake, the face in the mirror staring back at him was that of a grown up man, with shielded blue eyes not showing any sort of emotion, with skin stretching tight over the muscles he had built at night, and nothing that could possibly put horror over his lean frame. Not on the surface at least. 

Running a hand through his hair, he pushed himself away from the wall, rolling his shoulders to get rid of the tension in his sore muscles, but that was probably impossible. It felt like the exhaustion sat deep inside his body, in the deepest fibres of his muscles and bones. It was everywhere and not letting him go. 

Mentoring wasn't an easy job, and sometimes Robbie wished to be able to go back in time and not survive the Games for the simple reason that he didn't have the nerves to send young innocent teenagers to their death bed without being able to do much about it. Even if the nightmares were already eating away at him, this job did so even more. Building their hopes up every day destroyed his own, seeing the flicker of life in their eyes blew out the one in his, and letting them cry at his shoulder made him reach for someone else's shoulder for him to cry on.

Today though, there was no shoulder for him to cry on, and no possibility to crawl into his bed and hide there like a weak doll either. It just so happened that his male tribute of the year had done something stupid, was held up by peacekeepers now, and Robbie had to fix that. At least this was something he could actually fix, not like the approaching death of these children. 

Stepping out of the elevator in the basement, he already saw a woman in a white uniform stand next to the door to the training rooms, with crossed arms, an annoyed look on her face, and brows that furrowed at his sight. Robbie put his best smile on his face, pulled the corners of his lips up with imaginary fingers and straightened his shoulders as he stopped in front of the peacekeeper. 

"Hey. Listen, I'm sorry about what Scott did in there. I'm a hundred per cent sure that he knows he's not allowed to attack other tributes, and I'm also a hundred per cent sure that that wasn't his intention. You know how they are, teenagers, heated heads, angst before the games. You can't seriously blame him for what he did. Besides, I think the Capitol wants to see their tributes entering the arena as a whole human being and not scarred from something else already", Robbie started to ramble, his voice light and careless - as if he was. 

The peacekeeper rolled her eyes and just nodded back over her shoulder. Then she moved to the side and through the door into the training room, leaving Robbie alone again. Or so he thought. After exhaling a deep breath, he caught movement out of the corner of his eyes and turned around to see another peacekeeper drag his tribute down the corridor. The young boy, seventeen years old, pretty thin even for a District 10 boy, with reddened cheeks and sweaty blond hair, stared at the floor in front of him instead of Robbie, who folded his arms in front of his chest and raised an eyebrow. Although he didn't feel like blaming the young boy, he couldn't appear too careless either. If Scott did something like that again, attack another tribute with a sword, something was bound to happen to him.

Robbie's eyes wandered from the angry face of his tribute to the strong fingers holding him by his jacket, and from there up to the face that was hidden by a helmet but revealed soon after. His eyes connected with deep blue ones, hard and unforgiving, and a thousand times more distant than Robbie's own had looked in the elevator. High cheekbones drew sharp shadows onto scruff covered cheeks, brows furrowed low over those hardened eyes, lips pressed into a thin line. Yes, Robbie had to admit himself that face looked anything but inviting. Yet he couldn't help but feel like he wanted to run his hand through those brown locks and graze his lips along that jawline. 

Shaking his head slightly, he pulled himself out of those hilarious thoughts and cleared his throat, barely keeping himself from blushing. "You can let him go now, thanks. Please. You're not going to harm him for such a stupid teenage thing to do, are you?"

For a few seconds silence hang over the corridor, then the peacekeeper's lips opened and a deep bass voice with a slight accent Robbie hadn't heard in a while reached his ears. "We actually should."

Seriously? Robbie's swooning stopped immediately, probably only caused by his too long abstinence. Was this guy serious now? What the hell would it give him to punish a little boy who'd die in a week anyway? "But you won't", he replied in a cold voice, eyes battling with those of the peacekeeper. The other man raised an eyebrow, so did Robbie in return. Finally, the peacekeeper replied, "I haven't decided that yet."

Robbie rolled his eyes, pointing at the closed door next to him. "Look, your colleague just walked off, so I'm assuming she doesn't really care. You shouldn't either. He's going to be thrown into a deathly arena in two days and will probably be punished better than whatever you can think of in that brain of yours. Just let him go, okay? He won't get dinner tonight, if that makes you feel better." His lips formed a smile, rather sarcastic. The attitude of this man pissed him off, he had to admit it. Threatening to hurt Scott wasn't really something that was attractive, even if the rest of him was.

Eventually, the man's fingers losened around Scott's shirt and he took a step back. "If you attack another tribute again, I'll break your fingers on my own", were the last words formed by that deep voice, then the peacekeeper turned around and walked off. So did Robbie. His fingers tightened around Scott's arms once he grabbed it and then he started pulling his tribute down to the other side of the corridor, disregarding the quiet "ouch" leaving Scott's lips. "Never get me into such a situation ever again", Robbie said through gritted teeth shortly before they appeared at the elevator.

He slammed his hand against the button, and only then looked back. His eyes found another pair of blue ones at the other end of the corridor, and for a second it even looked as if they softened, sending a rush of tingles through Robbie's body. Then the contact broke, the elevator door's opened and Robbie returned to reality.

Robbie detested Capitol parties with a fiery passion. He hated everything about it. The overflowing food, the drinks, the overheated, sweaty and drunk people, the fact that everybody only vanished into the bathrooms to throw up and keep eating and drinking, and that he had to pretend he enjoyed every single second of it.

Of course he knew he had to deal with this though - it was just one of the many disadvantages of winning the games and being a mentor. He was expected to attend the parties he was invited to, and he knew they were the best chance at getting sponsors for his tributes. The best and only chance. That was the only reason why he ever survived them, and he knew tonight he would concentrate on nothing but the fact that he had to find somebody to keep Tempest and Sebastian alive. Besides, he had survived sixteen years of this craziness. He'd surely survive another one.

He inhaled a deep breath to calm himself down as he stared at the big doors, standing white open to let everybody important and known inside - it was a blur of colours, hurtful for the eyes. Maybe the horror and hilarity of it all, such an awful mixture, was what really got him through all of this, he thought to himself as he adjusted the jacket of his suit - he had to admit it was one of the prettiest he had ever worn, a dark grey one with shimmering leather arms - and made his way through the entrance.