#soac82train

By the time the peacekeeper’s gather me, I’ve calmed down considerably. Clara, of course, is the one who accomplishes this, and for that I’m grateful. She’s the last person I see before being pulled away, the last one I’m allowed to hold. Her halo-ringed head bobs gently against Marigold’s shoulder as they exit the room, those doe eyes on me, no longer wet because I’d soothed her after the commotion and confusion.

I give it three days. After all, since Clara was born, we haven’t been apart for more than a night. She won’t understand. She’ll start to wail.

But I try not to dwell. Instead I focus on complying with the peacekeepers. It’s easier to just follow the pristine uniforms and crisp hallways-- it takes my mind off both my sister and the other visitors I received. Valerie, with her kisses and tears, and my aunt, her prayers falling on deaf ears. While I do feel bad about that, the thought of my impending death overrides the guilt.

Oh God. I’m going to die.

Again, I redirect my line of thinking onto well-kept hallways, rhythmic footfalls, and finally, the train. It’s sleek, like a blade, and on the inside the decorations are a lavish purple. I discover the overall design, while kind of gaudy, is enough to make me pause and even smile. I’d love to take a hatchet to the room and cut down the glam, maybe add a splash of blue, possibly yellow--

Prosper Lalune greets me at the end of a hall, beckoning with a half-wave. I follow in silence; leave the peacekeepers behind. We eventually meet Genesis down another way and the three of us wind up in a sitting room. I note that our mentor is missing for the time-being, but I dismiss the thought as Genesis immediately gets up to leave. I suppose there’s no point in having whoever it is here if she’s not going to coach us both. Or perhaps coaching separately is good? Damn. I’m starting to regret staring at clothes during the past games, and not the tribute’s tactics.

I continue to watch Genesis out of the corner of my eye. There’s something a little off about about the boy, something beautiful but strange. I mean, I really shouldn’t be one to judge, since most men seem strange to me. However, I do appreciate his good looks. Those cheekbones in particular are nice, but I don’t linger on the assessment. Rather, I wonder why such pretty things-- the train, the Captiol’s couture, my district partner-- have to be so closely associated to the games.

Once Genesis is gone, Prosper gives me a quick one over, sighing:

“Nice job pulling yourself together out there. Keep doing that and you should be okay, I think."

It's all the advice I get, along with a short set of directions to my room, and then the escort is billowing out of the seating area.

-

For the next few hours, I work on not crying. I keep my attention off all things family, even watching the Reapings and a previous game to keep me occupied. To my great satisfaction, by the time the train pulls into the floodlit Captiol, I can easily keep a smile on my face and I enter the tribute’s tower with confidence.

Of course, on the inside, I’m a mess. A complete trainwreck in comparison to many of the other tributes. Most were strong and steady at the reaping; not misty-eyed like me, not that I can tell. I want to scream at my own incompetence.

It’s a small comfort to finally enter the room I’ll be staying in for the next week. Again, everything is so pretty, so… opulent. I could admire the silky sheets for days, the ocean of a carpet for months, the gleaming dressers forever.  Even the curtains look as if they’re spun of pure water.

Speaking of, I decide to end the day the way I started it.

-

I don’t know how long I shower. I’m too wrapped up in bubbles and soaps to care. Hundreds of shining settings steal my attention, the glass walls tinting all colors of the wheel, and I deliberately choose to ignore the clock. I blowout my hair and dress myself and play with the make ups in the mirror; I do anything but sleep until my body begs me to stop.

At that point, I can’t help but collapse onto the feathered bed. The swirling patterns on the sheets make me grin and I play with the cutest ribbon I’ve ever seen, fumbling fingers on smooth fabric. Bad things become a memory washed away by shower water. I fall asleep.

-

The train is magnificent. It’s longer than some of the tallest trees are in height, sleek and fast, yet it hardly feels like we’re moving at all. immediately John is swept away by Pike, who seems to have taken an interest in him. Sure, he’s attractive for a male, but he’s a little piss baby who, honestly, doesn’t look like he’ll last five minutes into the Games. He was still crying when we boarded the train, for god’s sake. I didn’t mind, though. Pike reminded me a bit too much of Bastion, with his smarmy attitude and I wasn’t interested in befriending John anyway.

Of course, that meant I was left to my own devices. Not that it bothered me. I preferred it that way. I wandered into the main living space, noting a beautiful looking table set off to the side. It was set for four people, but there wasn’t any food out quite yet. Walking closer, I bent down to examine the wood. Mahogany.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

I jumped up, whirling around in surprise to find Ivy standing a few feet away, a smile on her face and I flushed at getting caught. I must have looked so stupid, inspecting a fucking table when I had all of these resources at my fingertips.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m from here too. I can appreciate good craftsmanship.” She paused, glancing around, “Though I must say, every year, they replace more wood with metal and plastic.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything. What was I supposed to say, anyway? I didn’t normally have a whole lot to say to people I didn’t know as is. I was on my way to almost certain death, which definitely wasn’t a great conversation starter.

She took a few steps closer, tilting her head slightly. “You don’t say much, do you?”

“There’s not much to say, is there?” I responded with a shrug. “I got Reaped, and now I get to fight to the death against 23 random kids for the enjoyment of our Great Nation of Panem. What a great fucking honor.” I spit the last bit out.

I’m mildly surprised when she laughs at my comment, but I shrug it off. I’d never met her before, but word around the District was that she wasn’t quite right in the head, even before the Games.

“I suppose you’re right, but there’s other things in between now and then.” She paused, sobering. “And there’s always the chance you can come back. I did.” When I didn’t say anything, she seemed to perk up again. “Anyways, if you want to see some really nice woodwork, you should see my room. I put in a special request.” She said with a wink.

My life may be over soon, but I’m finding that every cloud has a silver lining.  Too long I’ve suffered and toiled in distress.  But now that I actually feel whole for once, I know that I have to appreciate what little time I may have and stay as positive as can be.  

A shower, unlike any I’ve had before.  It had been years since I could properly bathe myself.  I had forgotten how refreshing they can be.  Rose-scented steam wafted across my nose; just one of the many detailed luxuries the Capitol had to offer.  

Although it will be cut short soon, I had to admit I had quite the life with cotrasting perspectives.  As a female, as a male, as middle class, as a street roamer, and now finally as a celebrity.  Maybe that could help me win.  Who knows, it would be a nice surprise but I’m not expecting much.  

I stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a velvet robe, then was immediately met with a 8 foot tall, pink-haired hologram.  

                                                Train Task

My eyes went wide as I stepped onto the train. Wow. I had thought that the room in the Hall of Justice was nice but this…this is a whole other level. I kept moving forward into the train car until I heard Oriana speak.

“The Capitol wanted you to travel in style,” she said in her Capitol affected accent.

The train is beautiful and luxurious and all, I suppose. But not as beautiful and luxurious as me, don’t be stupid. I find that even entertaining such a thought is heresy. I was sent to this earth by a god. The proof is in my DNA. Bitch, look at me! I’m stunning. I belong in a museum. Obviously in a glass case, that is. I don’t want any greasy hands touching the masterpiece that I am.

Familial farewells pass with little event. My mother manages to turn on the tears, but neither me nor my father are convinced, and it is mainly the man guarding the door who seems taken in by her. You can always tell that her tears are fake, because she makes sure to cry in a manner where she still looks beautiful. Father, on the other hand, does not cry. I cannot imagine him crying, even as a baby, and I feel that to do so would be disrespectful, so I will drop the subject. He just looks blank, perhaps disappointed that I cannot be the Peacekeeper he has trained me to be. It is unusual, but he claps a hand on my shoulder, and the gesture is firm but not aggressive, perhaps even gentle.

“If you win, there will still be a place for you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The car pulled up to the train platform, the engine humming as Casey, Beatrix, and myself got out and headed for the train. I’d barely paid either of them much attention as I was still a little shaken by Marion’s visit. I suppose in her mind she was trying to atone for whatever had pushed me away but I could care less what things she had to do to help her sleep at night.

Fuck I need to stop thinking about her.

“You coming Sweet Pea?” I hadn’t realized Casey had already disappeared inside the train and Beatrix was hanging out the door. Nodding my head I followed our escort into a train that looked eerily similar to the ones Marion used to help design and work on. The inside of the car was lavish and with a table laden with sweets and drinks.

In matter of minutes Beatrix was left to herself in the single, tidy room within the Justice Building. For a moment she had thought no one would come so seeing her aunt walk out of the room was still a shock. The amulet still held in her hand tightly, as if chocking the life out of it. This was the last piece of home she would have. No matter the outcome of what had just happen. It didn’t matter if this had been a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘good luck’. Her fate was sealed. 

Therefore, with a big, deep breath she willed her stiff legs to move. To walk away from the life that had been thrust upon her, and even though she was walking into her possible death she felt relief. As if a weight on her back was being dropped with every step she took. Maybe the smile she put on right before the doors open was real this time around?

Making her direct way to the extravagant train, Beatrix eyes light up as it came into focus. It was so -- big. She stated the obvious in her head. She wasn’t poor, but she wasn’t rich either. The thing that was taking her to her death was so beautiful. She almost began to bounce on the heels of her feet as she approached it, and she could begin to see it in more detailed. Her greedy, wide eyes trying to take in every detail. Her awe radiating off every single part of her body, and the escort that greeted her at the door couldn’t help but chuckle. For someone going into the hunger games, the girl was surely looking happy. Until --

   she tripped on her own two feet as she walked through the door and into the main compartment. 

Beatrix had been so preoccupied with admiring the shiny, clean train and looking at least cooler than she did up on the stage since she knew her team - were they even her team - was awaiting her inside. One thing was obvious, multi-tasking was not her thing. 

Landing on her knees and hands, her brown hair cascaded in front of her. Thankfully hiding her mortifying expression and red cheeks. Can the world just eat me up right now? She wondered as she could almost feel the entire compartment fall silent and every eye on her. Here was the only mentor in their district with the boy that had made the most dramatic volunteering she had seen and then -- there was her. The girl that had tripped coming into the train.