#neph is though

If there was any god out there, Nephtali was sure they hated them. 

Why else would they be sent as tribute to be killed in the name of entertainment?

It was a little too late for the fisher to complain however, as they stood before the Cornucopia. Any second now, and the gun would fire. Any second now, and the madness begins.

Any second now, and their fate would be sealed.

-

What did Neph even do to get here? The career tributes might’ve been a better choice. Hell, as far as they know, they probably weren't even on the census. Life in Panem meant a life of strict social castes and a large wealth gap. District 4 was no exception, with Neph being one of the unfortunate many.

Alas, not even poverty could keep them out of the Games. Nor their lack of sight, for that matter.

Their fellow tribute was, to them, one of the middle-class. A tall man with a lanky figure, who called himself 'Sasha'.

A wonderful name, Nephtali thought as they shook hands, defender of mankind.

But they didn't trust him immediately. Just because he was the District's other tribute didn't mean they were friends. What if he had something else to gain from this? Would he betray them for his own reasons? 

Would they get hurt if they trusted him?

-

The key to winning this, Neph concluded, was to keep the both of them alive for as long as possible. They were still on uncharted territory when it came to Sasha, but that was a can of worms they would open another time.

Right now, it was time for the sponsors to pick their favored tribute.

All these tributes had their own unique ability. Some of them could even control magic. One of them could turn anything into sand, so they heard. Another could shapeshift into a catfish. Everything was teeming with magic in one way or another. 

Everything, everyone, but them. 

Magic was valuable, highly sought after, a luxury only few could afford and a power less could reliably wield. Of course they wouldn't have any of those, what would they even do with it? 

Sasha was missing. Or, at least, Neph couldn't hear him nearby. Maybe he was finished for the day? But Neph wanted to maximize their chances of winning. If they could get even one sponsor, their chances of winning would increase… not like they were particularly lucky in the first place. But what could they do?

Their greatest asset was probably their hearing. Echolocation works wonders when your eyes are decommissioned. Maybe even their spatial awareness. Quick thinking? Rapid reflexes?

"Oi, herbivore, are you just gonna sit there?" A gruff voice called out to them, stalking its way towards them. "'Cause if you are, then move over."

The voice… it sounded like one of the District 2 tributes. Maybe the lion man, the one who could disintegrate whatever he touched. That made sense; the wealthy District 2 was known for its strength and masonry. 

"Are you even listening, or are you just deaf?" They snapped out of their stupor, lifting their head to where they thought the voice came from.

"Apologies, I was… just thinking about things,” they hastily stood up, dusting off their shirt. “I’m not- I can’t see very well. I didn’t notice you.”

“A blind tribute…?” The lion man chuckled, flopping down where Neph used to be. “Heh, how pitiful.”

“... excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He yawned, rolling over to stare at the fisher, “This is a game to the death. Herbivores like you… well, they don’t last very long.”

There was truth to his words. Truly, he was right… but goddamn, did Neph want to wipe the floor with his ass. “We’ll see about that.”

There was no point in garnering enemies this early on.

-

The rest of it went by in a blur. The sponsorships, the training sessions, the tribute interviews… All that really mattered to them was getting out of this shithole alive. See their family again. Run away from Panem… if that was even achievable. Sasha had come up with a plan, apparently, during his small disappearance earlier on.

Keep each other alive for as long as possible. Avoid the others as much as you can. Take only the bare essentials. Don’t ever get separated.

Today was their last training session before the games. Everyone was on high alert, suspicious of anything that even looked their way. The District 4 tributes were in their own corner, building strength and shaking their nerves off as best as they could. Sasha was still discussing their plan, his hushed voice keeping Nephtali tethered to reality.

“-and if we do this right, then we’ll be able to make it to the final day,” he finished, grunting as he completed a pull-up, “So, whaddya say, Neph?”

…

“Neph?”

“How do I know I can trust you?” The fisher blurted out, cross-legged on the floor.

“Huh?”

“How do I know you won’t betray me? String me along for the ride then kill me at the last minute?” They turned to face him, brows furrowed and eyes sharpened. “How do I know I’m not just a pawn in your game of 4D chess?”

The other tribute sighed. “You’re asking a very difficult question, Neph.”

“I’m still waiting on my answer.”

“Okay, okay, fine. How about this,” Sasha leapt down from the bars, hands on his hips, "When it's just the two of us left, we can force the Capitol to elect both of us as winners."

"What? That's impossible, no one's ever heard of two victors."

“We'll be the first,” there's an odd lilt to his tone, like he was planning something. “This is just a gameshow to the Capitol, we’re just here for entertainment. We’re only kept alive if we’re pleasing them, so if we play into their favor and keep away from the others, we’ll be fine.”

“What if they make us fight each other? What then?”