the non-combatant

Andrick Zillith Age 80 District 12 Tribute in the 75th Annual Hunger Games

[democracynow]

[andrick-zillith]

Andrick at one of the many pre-Games interviews at the Capitol.

[daisybrain]

[andrick-zillith]

Andrick Zillith in the hovercraft on his way to the Arena.

[andrick-zillith]

Out of the Swarm - Andrick x Elle

[district3eleanora-blog]

The games had been going slow  Elle was surviving, but just getting by.  At this point, she was either ready to start killing everything around her or just get killed herself, it was her own circle of hell-waiting impatiently for her fate to happen.  After leaving Alayne, she was killed, if Elle would have waited a few hours later, she might have been the face that shown in the sky.

She hadn’t stopped running since she heard Alayne’s cannon, and she finally found an area that seemed to have adequate space to hide.  Rooms and corridors made of stone stood, and she would take the time to explore every place she could.  

However, her explorations were suddenly interrupted by the murmured buzzing that began to grow louder by the moment.  As she turned to face the source, a black cloud of swarming insects were headed over the arena, like a blanket of darkness.  

Quickly ducking into one of the rooms, she lunged past one of the windows and ran into something-someone.  

"Woah…woah…"  She gasped, her hands grabbing for the axe that was attached to the pack she was carrying.  "What the hell is going on?"  

Pulling the axe out of the pack she held it in front of her, finally getting a glimpse at the man who she had come in contact with, one of the oldest, from on outlying district.  

"You’re not going to hurt me are you?"  She screamed through the humming of wings, her eyes lowering to meet his.

[andrick-zillith]

The buzzing seemed like it would never stop. These insects gnawed at the places on Andrick that he couldn’t swat constantly. He continued to moan until someone collided with his leg. He couldn’t help the yelp that escaped his legs.

The body was hazy through the cloud of bugs, but whoever it was had an axe. So this was it. In the midst of a storm of locust, he was to be killed. At least his hell would be over. Whoever it was seemed to be taking their time, though…

“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

Andrick couldn’t fight the smile. Perhaps he wasn’t to die right now. He shook his head from his sitting position. The voice was female. Not that that meant anything in the Games; there were vicious women. “No, dear. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

He continued swatting at the bugs feebly. “Will these stay long? Do you know?” Of course she didn’t, but it was worth the question.

[andrick-zillith]

Out of the Swarm - Andrick x Elle

Day Three had passed without a cannon sounding, and Andrick’s heart had been in one piece. But then Day Four happened. One cannon. One single, lonely, solitary cannon had sounded.

When Alayne’s face had lit up the sky…

The face that would no longer light up the room of her children. The face that would never again kiss her husband. The face Andrick had sworn to himself to send back home. It was in the sky. That face was in the sky and Andrick was still on the ground.

He hadn’t slept that night. His body quaked with tears that originated in the pit of his stomach. He had been in the arena less than a week and he had already lost. He was alive, but he was deadened. The other deaths had hurt him, of course. Fawn, Nicholey, the Mayor of Eight! So many young people dead and gone before their time. Before their prime. And he was here. He had outlived them – this was truly his hell.

The buzzing that began seemed like a physical manifestation of the blood in his veins. It was stagnant, it was annoying. But it was essentially worthless. It wasn’t until the sun seemed to darken in midday that Andrick looked out of his window. He hadn’t eaten in four days – perhaps he was hallucinating? But was a black cloud actually descending on his temple?

It didn’t take long for him to realize that this was very much real. Within moments, the buzzing was in his room. Luckily, the small window only allowed so much of the infestation in at a time, but it was enough to send his older body into fits of pain. With a groan, he began to swat at whatever he could. He retched as his hands met sizeable bodies – this was hell.

[andrick-zillith]

Permanence - Day Two

A full day had passed in the Arena. Andrick had not left the four walls of his stony room for the entirety of the day. Only once had he ventured as far as the window to look up at the sky as the faces of eight young people illuminated the sky. Each new face brought new tears to his eyes. What a waste. What a shame. What a horror.

His body was fine. He had grown used to having sparse amounts of food from his days in District Twelve, and he spent most of the day sitting, meditating in his cool confines, which helped him conserve energy. No one had passed him. He had heard nothing but the occasional crick of an insect or the sound of wind passing through the trees. Nothing. And that suited him just fine.

The night had gone by without incident, and he had awoken before the sound of the cannon the following morning. He had checked in with his body, finding himself to be tired and hungry, but generally okay. That meant more meditation. If he was safe, and if he didn’t need food in the moment, he could stay put.

His wife, Lily, flitted through his mind. Was she watching at home? Were his children? His grandchildren? There were Tributes that lined up in age with almost every one of his family members. Even from this far distance, he could feel their terror and sorrow in his heart. It shook him deeply, but he refused to cry. No, if he were going to be a Tribute, he needed to be strong. If not for himself, then for his family.

Andrick settled back into the far corner of his room, the rock wall cool against his back. This was steady. This was constant. Even if the cannons rent the sky and the other Tributes tore and destroyed each other, this rock face was solid and unchanging. The thought brought a smile to Andrick’s face. Constancy. Permanence. These were ideas that scarce could be found in The Hunger Games, and Andrick had found them. And that, if nothing else about this establishment, was beautiful.

[andrick-zillith]

Small Smiles - Intro to the Arena

Andrick was quiet for all of that morning. Simple small smiles replaced vocalized goodbyes – to the Avoxes, so kind in their servitude; to the Capitol, so bright and beautiful; and to Magnus, who had shown him nothing but the sheer and unadulterated good of humanity the past few days. Words couldn’t fully capture the thoughts in his mind and heart, and he didn’t trust his throat to carry the sounds of thanks anyway. So, he settled for small smiles and little nods.

The hovercraft ride was arguably worse than leaving the Training Center. Memories had been made, however brief, and Andrick was loath to leave the building that had become home. But it was the people in the craft around him who had helped make said memories. The faces around him were the marks on his mind, and the faces he would soon see lit up in the night sky – if his own face wasn’t there as well.

But the worst moment of all was waiting in the small, metal tube to be ejected into the Arena. His stylist had done what she could for the old man, but he could read the sense of defeat on her face. No one ever mentioned the stylists. They did hard work, preparing the Tributes year in and year out for their appearances around the Capitol, and they rarely got credit. But as the metal slid across to separate Andrick from her, he realized that he was one more project doomed for failure. That must be exhausting: knowing your hard work is destined to fall apart.

The tube ascended into whatever was waiting, and Andrick’s eyes adjusted to the dimmed light. He appeared to be in a rainforest, but a much more immediate threat was obvious. When the countdown reached zero, he saw many of the Tributes leap from their pedestals and take off unto the undergrowth. Andrick took his time. His body was not nearly as nimble as these younger people. He slowly sank to sit on the pedestal, his knees creaking all along. Finally reaching a sitting position, he swung his legs over the edge of the pedestal. To his dismay, he found that they did not quite reach the ground. With a disgruntled grunt, he inched his way forward until he was able to roll over and lower himself with as much grace as he could muster to the ground. The front of his shirt was instantly frayed, and his hands were scraped from the harsh stone of the pedestal, but at least now he was on the ground.

Somehow he had managed to avoid the eyes of many more capable Tributes who could have seen him as an easy target. Still, his dismounting of the pedestal had winded him, and he leaned against the large stone pillar to catch his breath. Almost instantly he could feel the humidity in the air starting to collect on his skin. A noise on the other side of his pedestal made him freeze, his eyes wide.

Everything was real now. It had been easy to ignore the future during the Reaping, the train ride, the interviews, and the training. He was a Tribute in the Hunger Games. He had known theoretically what that meant all along, but the true weight of his situation hadn’t struck until this moment. His eyes, unblinking, began to fill with tears as the noise on the other side continued. He could die. This could be his last moment as a breathing person. And what had he done? He had told his family it was okay. He had told Magnus he was ready to die.

He had lied to everyone he had met since the Reaping.

Andrick pressed a bleeding hand to his mouth to stifle his sobs as tears began streaking down his face. He was petrified – there was no other word to describe the ice in his stomach or the black spots flying in his vision. Slowly, who or whatever was opposite of him began moving away, and Andrick’s sobs turned to silent, relieved laughter. He had survived his first trial. Only ten minutes into the Arena, and he had survived.

Which was more than he could say of others. Already, cannons were booming. How could anyone do that? So quickly? Or rather, at all? What would possess someone to hunt down another human being to destroy them within mere moments of – no, what would cause someone to destroy someone, period? In context, it didn’t matter. Those were the people hoping to end Andrick’s own life. If he were to continue to survive, he needed to move.

He struck out in the direction opposite of the sound from earlier. He soon found his way into thick trees, which scared him. Who knew what lurked behind the trunks, or in the branches above? After many more minutes – and many breaks to rest – he came across his haven. A derelict building, roofless and with clinging ivy, stood in front of him. It was beautiful in its way. The stonework was intricate and architectural. A sturdy tree had made this its roothold: the mighty plant wove in and out of glassless windows and twined around the frame and into the ground.

Andrick ran his hand against the rough bark of the tree as he made his way into the building. This was home now. A small room stood empty on the far side of the tree, and Andrick made his way into it. It was darker than the rest of the building, with only a small shaft of light flickering in through a window in the wall. The shade of the tree acted as a roof for this room, and Andrick smiled as the coolness blanketed his skin.

He would have to go find supplies eventually. But for now, he was tired from his travels. Using a corner of the room to support him, Andrick slowly made his way to a sitting position. His body ached and groaned at him, but he willed it be quiet. It was time to rest and recuperate. A small smile reached his lips as he looked at the beauty around him. It was time to survive.

[andrick-zillith]

So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light 'Cause oh that gave me such a fright But I will hold as long as you like Just promise me we'll be alright But hold me still, bury my heart on the coals But hold me still, bury my heart on the coals

[andrick-zillith]

Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again, Because a vision softly creeping, Left its seeds while I was sleeping, And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence.

[andrick-zillith]

Comfort and Haunt - Private Training

Andrick was the final Tribute to go through his private training. Every single other Tribute had gone through those double doors: some with confidence, some with fear, some with other things altogether. What would Andrick bring? In honesty, Andrick was bringing tired, old bones. That was all he had left to offer these people. His name was called, and the Peacekeeper at the door had to help him push the heavy thing open.

Andrick didn’t know what to expect, but the large room was far more ghastly when devoid of the usual nervous energy provided by the other Tributes. Each of his footsteps, though soft, echoed across the expanse. Most of the Gamemakers were uninterested. As they should be. Andrick could see the two doors leading out across the way – they were sealed shut at the moment.

With no idea what to do, Andrick found his way to the edible plants. He had no knowledge of the plants and had no intention of demonstrating any sort of skills there, but it was one of the few stations that had a chair. He sat down and looked up, noticing that the clock hadn’t begun. What were they waiting for? A cue?

“Andrick Zillith?”

He had no reason to respect these people. He had no reason to crawl and beg at them. With an odd heaviness in his chest, he saw that his name had started the countdown. Good. He was that much closer to finishing these past days in the Training Center. Closer to the Arena. Which wasn’t a better option, but it was his last option. Nothing else remained, and he’d rather it be happening than be in anticipation of it.

As he sat in his chair, he studied the Gamemakers. Many were overweight. Middle aged or slightly older. Some wore their gray hair with pride and others covered it with gaudily chosen colors. All were dressed so outlandishly, though Andrick supposed that was just the current fashion in the Capitol. Only one or two ever bothered to look down at him. Mostly they crowded around the buffet of food. These were the Hunger Games, after all.

The minutes ticked by. If it was possible, the Gamemakers became even less interested in Andrick. With their lack of attention, Andrick became more and more anxious. What for? He didn’t know, but he knew it was making him crazy. His eyes darted around.

That was the answer. Only one station called his name and could calm his nerves. When he stood, some eyes followed him, but most stayed away. He made his way to where the fishhooks lay. He sat down, picked up a piece of metal, and went to work. He bent it into a hook, made a loop, and selected a piece of twine. And then it was the standard over, looping in, looping out. This was repeated until his nerves were calm. And then he started on a second hook. And a third.

The smallest smile was on his lips when the buzzer went off, shaking him from his reverie. His fifteen minutes were up. Beside him lay a small pile of completed fishhooks. However, that didn’t calm him nearly as much as the sight of the two doors opening. A warmth spread through his body as he slowly got to his feet. He had nothing left to say or show. He simply hobbled out into the welcome chill of the hallway.

It was over, and good riddance.

[aldus-eldridge-deactivated20150]

We Two Wise Men ❧ Aldus & Andrick

[aldus-eldridge-deactivated20150]

“Yes,” Aldus quickly reposed, nodding with a slightly bitter smile.  Now that they were on the topic of his daughter there would be nothing else on his mind but her sweet smile and bright eyes.  The eyes of her mother.  The curious grin she had every time she plundered.  “As it happens, it was the first doll I ever bought her.  Quite the parting gift, actually, since I never once expected her to have it.  Now it’s all I have left of my sweet little girl.”

Exhaling a long stream of air, the man turned and put on a brighter smile.  He couldn’t live in the past; only focusing on the present would suffice to keep his future intact.  “Ah, so my speculations were correct.” he paused, the rhythm of his speech already ended.  “Not that I wanted my theory to be correct; it is that I simply stated what I observed.  You are, after all, the decision maker.  Not me.  Right as you are, some of these people do not even have a home to return to should they win, and that is what breaks my heart.”

Though he was quite aware of Andrick’s meaning, the statements left something to ponder over.  Dreaming over impossible realities bothered the man, cold truths being the basis of his practice for many years.  Some even respected him for the ‘harsh’ analysis of their condition; sugarcoating their predicament would only make things worse. 

It was some time before he responded, considering all of the variables and tossing them out of the window.  If there was a dreamer in him, it took root and tried to reason out a possible idea.  A small notion to invest more hope in.  Something was absolutely better than nothing.  “I want my daughter to be safe from the world, Mr. Zillith.  I want to protect her.  I want to win and go back home to my darling princess and tell her that all is okay.  We mustn’t worry, I’d remind her.” The man explained with a controlled tone, almost distant as he spoke. 

“Using my Victor title I would transfer us to the Capitol for a while where I would get help for my daughter – she has a brain tumor, Mr. Zillith.  Without the proper help she will be dead in a few years’ time.” Aldus explained, realizing that the man was the first person he’d spoken to about his girl’s condition.  “And I do not want to have her suffer without her father to hold her hand.  That is what my dream would be, Mr. Zillith.  She is my world and I would do anything for her.”

[andrick-zillith]

Andrick could not force the smile to stay on his face any longer. It fell with his heart to his ankles. The revelation of the man’s daughter’s plight expounded Andrick’s feelings about the Games. Here was a man – a doctor, no less – unable to take care of his daughter. If this man died, his daughter would certainly die as well. Two lives at the expense of Capitol entertainment. And who knew how many other vital family mainstays populated this training arena? Andrick’s family would be fine. His children were all grown and had jobs. They would take care of his wife. But Aldus’ daughter? What about Brady’s family? Or Alayne’s?

Andrick shook his head, at a loss for words. “Mr. Eldridge… I cannot begin to explain how truly sorry I am for you.” He sat for a moment, feeling his eyes swell with tears. It was a tragedy. An outrage. “This… this is the kind of thing the people rebelled against all those years ago. And this is the price we pay. And I just- I can’t. I can’t handle this.”

Andrick shakily got to his feet. “Mr. Eldridge, it would please me greatly if you were to stay in contact with me. I won’t lie, and you seem like the kind of man who will appreciate what I’m about to say. I know I am a liability. I know I am not a person who will aide you greatly if you do in fact wish to return home. But, Mr. Eldridge, know this much: you have nothing to fear from me. Even if I break from stress in the arena and find myself with a weapon, know that it will not be used against you. Mr. Eldridge, you have at least one fan, on friend in that Arena.”

Andrick shook his head again. “Is there any hope for your daughter, should the worst come to pass?”

[andrick-zillith]

Caesar Flickerman: Ladies and gentlemen, let us welcome to the stage Andrick Zillith from District Twelve. Everyone give them a round of applause. To start off, how are you feeling about this year’s games?

Reply: Well, Mr. Flickerman, I feel much the same as I do with any of the Games: a deep sorrow for the loss of so much life.

Caesar Flickerman: What trait or ability do you possess that you think makes you stand out over the rest of the completion?

Reply: I'm too old, Mr. Flickerman. If that makes me stand out, then so be it. 

Caesar Flickerman: If you do come out as victor, what is the first thing you’ll do with the new found title?

Reply: Andrick smiles, which becomes a chuckle, and then a light laugh. Oh, please, Mr. Flickerman. I don't like lying. And I don't think either of of us really want to fill anyone with false hope regarding my future.

Caesar Flickerman: As everyone knows, since this is a Quarter Quell Games, there were no age restrictions on the Reaping.  How do you think this will affect the Games?

Reply: It makes them worse. Not that they are ever easy to watch. But the children... Anastasia. Kilia. Harper. It's terrible, Caesar. 

Caesar Flickerman: Thank you Andrick and may the odds be ever in your favor!

[aldus-eldridge-deactivated20150]

We Two Wise Men ❧ Aldus & Andrick

[aldus-eldridge-deactivated20150]

With grief in his heart, Aldus could only acknowledge Andrick’s truths with another faint nod.  “It’s despairing to think about the situation.” He put dryly.  Then with a curt resign to push forward again, he gave a small smile.  “We mustn’t worry.  I always tell my daughter that when she’s scared.” then pulling out the torn rag doll she gave him after the Reaping and looked at it with hope in his eyes.  “We’ve all got reasons for what we do.  I’m no different from you or the others.”

“Assessment?”  He gave a chortle, snugging the doll away back into his pocket.  “Merely professional curiosity, Mr. Zillith.  I often times find myself thinking over the actions of others and why they behave in the manner that they do.” he turned, giving the man another close look with a friendly smile.  “Like you.  You’ve piqued my interests.”

“If I had to guess then I’d say that you’re comfortable with this whole idea of death.  By the way you speak, you’ve resigned to keeping to yourself and waiting for your time.  Which I expect is reasonable for your age.  You’re quite proud of what you’ve done in life, I believe.  And you’re ready for what’s to come.” Aldus commented, keeping his tone light and courteous.  “My thoughts may be betraying me, however.” the man chuckled again, attention returning to the tributes once again.

“Though if I am completely honest with you, I don’t believe in my heart that I will be returning home.  As much as I want to, it simply isn’t ideal to get my hopes up.  Being realistic is all that I have.  Hard truths keep my world spinning.  It is only my daughter’s life that I fear for if I don’t return.” Aldus rambled, for once being sociable quite easy when on the topic of his dear daughter.  “Not much of a tea lover, Mr. Zillith.  Nothing but water goes into this body of mine.  Though,” with a quick glance to the array of edibles and back, “I can’t say that I have the same restraint when it comes to the food around here.”

[andrick-zillith]

Andrick watched the man pensively. He was a quaint personality, but Andrick didn’t find him off-putting. The way the man spoke made him smile. When he pulled out the doll, Andrick’s curiosity got ahead of his manners. “Oh, is that your daughter’s?” he asked before he could take it back.

Andrick’s eyebrows raised at Aldus’ succinct analysis of his mindset. “You are correct in more or less all regards, Mr. Eldridge. I have been waiting for my time for some years now. And if it is to come during the Hunger Games, then so be it. I know that it is the same for twenty two others in here, though, and that’s what breaks my heart.”

“Realism is a dangerous game, Mr. Eldridge. And, while I may also seem to be taking the realist’s approach, it’s really the dreamer in me that says I won’t be coming home. It hopes that I die a peaceful death in the Arena, staying true to myself. Maybe helping someone else make their way home.

“So I don’t know, Mr. Eldridge. Realism is a tool. But sometimes you have to put it down and let the dreamer take over. Tell me: in an ideal situation, with everything put aside – what do you want to have happen in the coming days?” Andrick leaned in a little closer to the man.

[andrick-zillith]

A Little Silence - Andrick x Brady

[bradyolliver]

Brady’s hands felt raw from working with rope half the morning.  It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.  He had spent enough years working in the fields to know what blistered hands felt like.  His palms and fingers were callused and his arms scarred, but a blister still hurt like hell.  He had been able to make a salve for it at the first aid station.  It was simple enough to make and he’d learned a few other tips while there too.

The survival stations were simple enough.  For most Brady came in with some sort of idea.  Most survival stations came down to a knowledge of nature.  Brady had spent most of his life outdoors; he knew nature.  Plants specifically.  Tracking and hunting had baffled him at first.  It still did really, but he had picked up the basics.  He’d even skinned a whole rabbit by himself, though he hardly relished doing such second time.  

In all honest it was the weapon stations he was avoiding.  He didn’t like the idea of them.  He had little desire to pull a sword on a ten year old girl or aim an arrow at young mother.  And, though he didn’t want to admit it, he knew few of the trainers would take him seriously.  He was sixty-two with two bad knees and no knowledge of weapons.  The trainers would be far more interested in the young and robust tributes… He really should try at least one though.  Even the weaponless hand-to-hand combat station would be a start.  Instead Brady continued to scan the almost endless series of stations for something requiring less violence.  Fishing.  Fishing sounded good.

There was only one other tribute at the station.  The elderly man from 12.  He sat dutifully creating fishing hooks and piling them neatly next to him.  Brady sat on the other side of the work bench and pulled a directory of different types of fish in front of him to begin memorizing.  He glanced around.  If there was an instructor for this station he wasn’t excited enough by two old men to make his presence known.

"Is there a lot of fishing in District 12?" Brady asked curiously.  Brady was pretty sure mining required caves of some sort.  That didn’t really seem like a fishing place.

[andrick-zillith]

Loop through, over, knot. Loop through, over, knot. Andrick continued with his almost trance-inducing exercise until a voice jostled him back to reality. With the smallest of jumps, Andrick looked up at the man who had joined him. He immediately covered his surprise with a smile.

“Oh my, you startled me a little there.” He let out a small chuckle. The man was older, like he was. It looked as if he, Andrick, and Mr. Eldridge would be holding up the elder end of the Tributes, despite nearly thirty years separating Andrick and the doctor from Five.

This man was from Eleven, as his sleeve indicated. Agriculture. “Oh, no, I can’t say there is. But hooks are peaceful and calming to make. Hence why there are so many.” Andrick chuckled again. “How about in Eleven? I imagine the occasional river must sport some fish.”

[spacelves]

John Cho and George Takei

[andrick-zillith]

A photo of Andrick with his youngest son, Storm, taken long before the Reaping was a threat to either of them.

[aldus-eldridge-deactivated20150]

We Two Wise Men ❧ Aldus & Andrick

[aldus-eldridge-deactivated20150]

Aldus listened to the man speak entirely in response with eyes still glued to the bustling tributes, thinking of how distinctly surreal it all felt.  In just a few days there wouldn’t be this many people about; maybe one-fourth of them slain if not more.  Perhaps Aldus was not the eldest among them like his current conversational partner, but he was knowledgeable enough to realize that things were not going to be as they seemed anymore once in the arena.  It would all be too real, then. 

Letting small smiles lapse onto his expression, the doctor had to let a chuckle out to show the amity between them.  How quickly it seemed to form once a simple bond was forged; he could never shake the sheer magic of it all.  “Wasting time is not something I am much fond of, Mr. Zillith.  Back in District Five I could be taking care of the ill instead of pretending that I can play with swords and spears.” a slight scoff escaped him, feigning some sociable aspects and keeping his true emotions hidden well.  “A scalpel would not serve me well, after all, unless I needed to perform some type of surgery within the arena.” Aldus laughed, somewhere in the back of his mind hoping that what he was trying to convey got through.

Wanting to befriend this man on a small scale, he was delighted with the way Andrick responded.  His growing speculations only served him the better.  “My co-tribute, Ms. Watts, tells me that we won’t make it.” he noted, keeping his gaze on the tributes and finding his District Partner within the crowd.  “What have you to think about our fellow tributes, Andrick?  It would amuse me to hear another person’s take on this year’s competition.”  

[andrick-zillith]

Andrick nodded as the man spoke. “Yes. There are many here, actually, with jobs. Thus is the curse of the Quarter Quell, yes? We’ve taken teachers, politicians, doctors from their jobs. But… what’s the phrase? We all die sometime? I suppose that’s as true for you and I as it is for anyone.”

As he looked over his… competitors was such a nasty term. Cotributes. That was nicer. As he looked out at his cotributes, his head rocked back and forth. “I’m not sure, Mr. Eldridge. What sort of assessment are you looking for? Because, in honesty, I can’t see them as threats. No, Mr. Eldridge. Sure, plenty of them are capable of taking my life. But all I see are twenty three other broken people who want to get home just as badly as the next person.”

His smile faltered on his face. “I wouldn’t doubt your District partner. I’m not saying you should believe her. If you truly believe you can make it home, then you are ahead of the majority of these people. But I will say, Mr. Eldridge, that she and I certainly are ‘in the same boat,’ as they say.”

Andrick force his smile to brighten. “But that’s no reason not to enjoy the days ahead. Good food, large beds, excellent tea. Have you tried it? It’s really quite marvelous.”

[andrick-zillith]

A Little Silence - Andrick x Brady

The repetitive motion of winding twine around a hook calmed Andrick’s nerves. It hadn’t been doing him any good to simply sit and stare at people while they trained, and the energy in the room – while exciting – made him very anxious. He knew full well that he wasn’t going to become proficient in any sort of weapon. But a fishing hook? That he could make.

It was relaxing. A simple wire or piece of metal was first bent into the classic shape. Then a loop was fashioned at the other end. Twine was then threaded into the loop over and over again in order to make the connection strong. The worst thing that could happen would be for the hook to break away from the string and the fish get away.

And so, Andrick threaded the twine over and over again through the loop. When he finished one hook, he moved on to another. The fine motor skills helped ease his mind and brought peace to his small section of the training center. Before long, a small pile of properly threaded hooks lay beside him. It was nice.

A small smile found its way to Andrick’s mouth as he began yet another hook. He took a moment to look around. The other Tributes were busying themselves with axes and broadswords. They were sweating and shouting and crying. That wasn’t for Andrick. No, he was quite content here with his fishhooks. 

[alayneof12-deactivated20140214]

Tea for Two | Alayne & Andrick

The day was long and tiring, and as soon as Alayne walked into the apartment she fell face first onto the lounge, face buried in one of the plump cushions. It smelled of perfume and she winced, sitting up and pushing it away quickly. It was all so fake here, nothing was old or held any sort of history. No sentimental value, unless she were to consider the countless children who had made their way through these very halls and then died in the arena, only their ghosts left behind. Alayne shivered. Perhaps she shouldn’t be thinking about that. Pushing away the pillows along with those ghost-ridden thoughts she curled up in a ball and tried to count five positive things on her fingers. It was what she did with the kids when they were hungry and trying to pass the time.

Five positive things over the past few days- She was learning lots about survival, which was important and beneficial. Her mentor was kind and smart, and she believed her district partner might be the same. The food here was amazing and wonderful and for the first time in a long time, Alayne had gained weight. Making her way over to the window, the woman found another positive thing- the view was beautiful, all the flickering lights shone and sparkled like a million trillion candles. And for number five… Alayne looked around the apartment, trying to figure something out. Well, the chandelier was very pretty. Ah, she would think up something better later. Now she wanted a hot cup of tea.

The kettle was bizarre, it was a perfect circle that automatically filled with water and the boiled faster than- well, faster than a fast something. She was still struggling with how to get the water out of the kettle and into her mug when the door opened, and she watched Andrick walk in. A smile automatically lit up her face, there was no way she could try and hate this man. Alayne might as well try and be friends with him for as long as she could. “Would you like a cup of tea? I’m just trying to figure out how to work this… thing.” The word kettle didn’t seem appropriate for such a large device.

[andrick-zillith]

Andrick took a deep breath in the alcove of the training center. They weren’t often allowed outside, and since so few magazines and tabloids requested him, the closest Andrick got to outside was this small corner where a large arched window looked out onto the park. It was nice enough. He had retreated from training quite early, as usual. After another Zen moment, he began meandering back towards his apartment.

The people around him all seemed so full of life. It pained him to think that in a few short days, they would all be lifeless. The girl from Three, for example. She was so good with her mannerisms and kindness. And then the child from Ten, of course. How terrible it was that she should be thrown to the dogs! Ah, well, perhaps he shouldn’t think that. There was a chance she could make it home. But if she did, it would be with blood on her hands, and perhaps that was a worse fate than not coming home at all.

No, no. These thoughts wouldn’t do. Andrick shook his head slowly to clear his mind. As the elevator ascended the floors to the twelfth apartment, Andrick coaxed happier thoughts into his mind. Namely: tea.

As he hobbled through the doorway, he found Alayne already on her way to making a pot of water. “Oh, Mrs. Wells! Yes, please, I would love a glass!” He moseyed over to where the contraption lay. Pulling up two mugs, he dropped a tea bag into each one. “May I?” He said before running his finger along the inside of the contraption. A small handle arose. He gripped it and pulled the trigger underneath. This caused a small spout to pop out of the glass tube, allowing him to pour water into the mugs.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Wells. It took me a few hours to figure out how to work this contraption. But once I got it, I found it terribly helpful. It boils water in no time at all! It’s a blessing. Amazing what modern technology can do, I suppose.” He smiled and brought his tea into the living room. “You don’t mind if I sit, do you? It’s been a long day.”