Sleep came to Aphrodite quickly, but it was the shallow, surface-level kind. She could feel the coarse roughness of the cave floor against her back, feel Cosima’s arm barely touching hers. If she strained her ears hard enough, she could’ve sworn she could hear the sound of wings, but she didn’t dare get up to check. It was the kind of sleep that would elude you the second you decided to wake up, and so she kept her eyes shut, willing herself to fall into a more substantial slumber.
She rolled over, away from Cosima, lifting an arm over her eyes in an attempt to get a little more comfortable, the bed roll they were lay on making a kind of shuffling noise as she moved. The noise didn’t seem to stop even after Aphrodite had settled. She let out a soft sigh, and as she did so, the sound of shuffling stopped.
For a moment, Aphrodite almost opened her eyes, but - not wanting to miss out on any of the sleep she could get - kept them firmly shut. The absence of noise should have meant nothing to her, but somehow the world seemed a little too quiet now.
And then the shuffling started again.
Her brow furrowed. It could just be Cosima moving next to her, but this was The Hunger Games, after all. It was better to be safe then sorry. Aphrodite took a few measured breaths, feigned sleep, and then opened her eyes, turning just in time to see a figure looming over her.
“Zeus.” She breathed, her voice wavering.
And then his hands found her neck.
The initial shock drove any coherent thought out of Aphrodite’s mind for the first few seconds. She gasped for air, her fingers clawing at his hands as they pressed down on her airways. She tried calling out, but she could get out little more than a gasp of Cosima’s name, incapable of thinking of anything other than the fact that she was surely going to die.
And then her brain kicked in, and her hands left his and instead began moving across his body in the dark, trying to find a weak spot. At the same time, she started thrashing around, moving every part of her body that she could in an attempt to dislodge him from the position he had over her. She feel the blood pounding in her head, the tightness in her chest beginning to expand outwards to the rest of her body. Her hands felt clumsy and useless, but she drove them further, reaching around to his back and clawing her way across it.
Just as she was beginning to think the endeavour was useless and that he had already won the fight, he let out a hiss of pain, and Aphrodite felt the wetness of his blood on her finger tips. She drove her hand across the wound, forcing her hand down and driving her knee into his crotch at the same time.
He cried out, his grip loosening just enough for Aphrodite to let out another gasp of Cosima’s name, her knee finding his crotch three more times before he withdrew a hand in an attempt to pin her leg.
This was all she needed. Her hands darted back to the hand around her neck and she wrenched herself free, her knee driving itself upwards again and again.
“Cosima!” She yelled, grabbing on to Zeus’s arms and attempting to tuck her foot behind his leg. She grunted with exertion as she pushed against his arms, trying to drive him backwards.
And then her foot found it’s mark, and with another grunt of effort she rolled him over, managing to reverse their positions.
“Cosima!” She called out once more, using her full body weight to stave off Zeus’s arms. “Get the swords!”
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Syren gazed longingly through the polished glass of the tribute train, the landscape speeding by to the eerie silence of her current habitat. Another day, another prison. She looked out at a world left untouched, forgotten; and far more beautiful for it. She stared for a for more mere moments before setting herself to the situation at hand. Rising with purpose she swiftly turned to face another tribute whom had, unfortunately for them, stumbled into her den.
August wasn’t all that sure what the Capitol wanted her to do upon her arrival on the train, so she sat in her district’s common area and stared out the window, her hands folded in her lap. After some time spent watching the fields pass by until the terrain was unrecognizable, she built up the courage to explore the rest of the train.
A few cars down, a door was left partially ajar. August peered in and found what appeared to be a bar, occupied by another tribute and an avox. She watched the stranger sat on one of the stools as she hesitantly entered the room. “Hi there,” she offered after a few silent moments, waving her hand in front of herself once and laughing nervously. “Have you been on the train long?”
It hadn’t taken long for Ceres to find the food cart. Since she’d only really had her parents and her fiance to visit her at the Justice Building she was itching for some company that wasn’t from The Capitol and she always thought that food brought people together, surely there would be someone there.
The smells hit her as soon as the door slid open and her eyes began to take in the feast that was cooking before her, a grand buffet of things she’d never seen before from all of the different Districts. Of course if James were here he would’ve scoffed and critisized about how it was all too grand, that it was a waste.
But James isn’t here. She reminded herself, allowing an giggle to escape her lips. She was allowing herself thoughts and feelings that she hadn’t in the 6 years that she’d been betrothed to the man and now she was here. She was still wearing the ring though, she couldn’t quite get rid of that yet.
Ceres pushed the thought away as an Avox offered her a plate and she began to leisurely take in the tables around her filled with more food than she’d ever seen outside of work, and she could help herself to whatever she wanted!!
Her plate was piled high in minutes with meat and cheese, fish and bread and she’d even taken 3 different deserts in small ramekins too. Ceres chuckled again and felt her heart lighten even as she sat alone for the moment. She was free.
The pressure in the room changed as the door to the carriage slid open from the opposite end that Ceres had entered from, The girl from District 9 looked up, a small piece of bread in her hand and a wide smile on her face.
There was an audible smack as Fort knocked his head on the doorframe on his way into the catering cart. He breathed in through his teeth and rubbed the red patch on his forehead. Smooth, Fort, real smooth. He had sobered up when they called his name, but he hadn’t spent any time sober since. The alcohol supply in his room had dried up, though, and his stomach had rumbled at him until he was forced to teeter from his bed in search of food.
Still rubbing his head he straightened up and looked around the room, blinking slowly. He was loosely aware of the presence of another tribute in the carriage, dropped his hand from his forehead and moved very carefully over to one of the long tables groaning under the weight of cakes and pastries, doing what he thought was a very good impression of a sober person. He piled a plate high with the little latticed ones made with apple and plonked himself down on one of the plush loveseats further into the carriage.
Looking up, he realized he’d sat right next to the other tribute.
“Hey!” He smiled, a small piece of apple dropping down his front which he hastily tried to recover. “You’re Fort, what’s my name?” He paused a moment. “Wait. That wasn’t right.” A look of drunken consternation crept across his face. “No, I’m Fort. What’s your name?”
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Getting on at District 2, Ellery was one of the last tributes to board the train. He was still groggy from Reaping Day-- the bed in the Justice Building had provided little sleep, and there was no amount of morphling that could calm Ellery’s nerves. Suffice it to say, it was going to take a while for Ellery to recover. The dark circles under his eyes proved as much.
Climbing up the stairs into the train car, Ellery found himself surrounded by tributes. Ugh. Conversation was the last thing he needed right now. Still, appearances were everything-- if he didn’t make a good first impression, he was as good as dead. Besides, Ellery had always possessed a certain dry charm. He glanced at the other tributes and steeled himself, wondering what he could possibly say to mask his confusion and fatigue. He had to play it cool.
“Hey,” he said to the group. “Is it just me, or is it hot in this car? For the love of Panem, open a window or something.”
Cosima entered the room rather abruptly, holding up a deck of cards she had found in one of the drawers one carriage over. “Look what I found!” she said, singing the words as she waved the deck around in the air. “Do you know any card games? Crazy Eights is my favorite.”
The lights had finally come back on. Finally. He had been sitting in darkness, looking up at the stars for quite some time now. But now the lights were on he could go for one final walk. Tomorrow they get to the capitol, there would be no moment of peace after that.
He sat down on one of the lounges, got his notepad out and flicked through it. He looked back at some old drawings, he had ones of his mother that he lingered on. He kept them, and redrew them when he could bear the pain so he would never forget her face. He paused on an old picture, one he had copied from a photo. It was a picture of his whole family together, it was the last time he felt whole, the last time they were all happy. He flicked forward a few pages, he stopped on drawings he’d done of Daphne as his heart skipped a beat, feeling a tightness in his throat as he looked on her face. With a sigh he flicked through further, he went past blueprints, lyrics and landscapes from back home - the pictures getting ever more recent till he made it to a blank page. One last drawing. He thought as he put his pen to paper.
